#also. sorry if this has been said before this game *is* twelve years old | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fractiflos · 5 months

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Another idea for your fairy tale ask game! Twelve Dancing Princesses, please. All for One is an overprotective king who keeps his brother Yoichi and son Izuku locked up, but they keep vanishing every night and returning with their shoes worn out as if dancing every night.

I think it would be fun if Second plays the role of the elf prince stealing Yoichi and Izuku away each night. The soldier tasked to uncover the mystery could be Third or a love interest of your choice for Izuku. Thank you!

It's been so long since I've read this one, I had to look at wikipedia for a refresher. But this was fun.

The reason AFO hates the idea of them dancing so much is because someone assassinated Queen Inko by slipping a small poisoned needle in her shoes before she went to dance at a ball. The needle was so small, she didn't notice until she started feeling faint as she danced, but by then it was too late and she died. Ever since then, AFO has insisted on absurd security measures for his remaining family members and obsessively checks their shoes. He has also forbidden them from dancing. Izuku was 3 when it happened, and is now six, so he doesn't mind too much, but Yoichi is angry at his brother for this (and maybe part of him was resentful at his brother for making him sleep in the same room as a child, with said brother locking the door every night).

Lately, AFO has been noticing that their shoes look worn out, as if they had been dancing all night. However, he can't figure out how, so he sends a message that any man who can figure out the mystery will get to marry his brother (a promise he does not intend to keep) and naturally, he doesn't tell Yoichi or Izuku about this. Many try and fail, which leads to them getting killed in the king's rage. However, a soldier returning from the front lines hears of this and decides to give it a shot.

This soldier has earned the nickname Third and he offers his assistance in the matter, enticed by Prince Yoichi's beauty. On the way there, he gets some advice from Old Lady Shimura, who tells him not to drink the wine Yoichi will offer and gives him an invisibilty cloak. He does as she says and when the two think the man is asleep, they sneak out through a small hole in the wall Yoichi had carved, hidden by a Captain Hero portrait. Third follows with the invisibility cloak, down to the beach where a man on a boat pulls up. It's Prince Second, who Yoichi met at a diplomatic dinner two years prior. He heard about their plight, and offered to sneak them away and dance with them.

Third sneaks onto the boat, and they go to Second's castle, where he watches them dance the night away (Izuku's observation of the boat being heavier than usual is ignored). Then, at 3 in the morning, when their shoes are worn out, they come back. He brings back a cup as proof of where he went, but as he approaches the king, he overhears the king talking to his advisor about his plan for what happens when he finally gets proof of where Yoichi goes. AFO is going to kill the soldier, and use whatever proof he manages to find to power up a spell that will curse the two into staying with him forever.

Horrified, Third tells the princes what he's learned. Yoichi isn't surprised, and that night, all three of them sneak out to go with Second and tell him what happened. This time, they didn't come back. Yoichi does send a letter explaining what happened, as he feels sorry for his brother and doesn't want him to worry. So, every diplomatic meeting is spent with AFO trying to convince him to come back. He doesn't and marries Second and Third.

I was debating giving Izuku a love interest, but then I realized the soldier thing fit Third better.

#yoichi shigaraki #all for one #christmas gift ask game #trioholders

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thekoopalingsandstuffs · 1 year

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Spewart, how long have you been trans, if you don't mind me asking?

Spewart: "Um... that's a complicated question. It was a slow transition that lasted multiple years, and went by in stages. Uh... how do I explain it..."

"Well, it all started when I was around six or seven. We were in the foster care system for quite a while. At the time, we had just moved into a home, which had, of course, the four of us bunnies, and three boys the parents already adopted. Since Hariet and I were the only two girls, when we all played together, we pretended to be boys. Like... playing pretend. It was just a joke we had. But even when we moved out of that foster home, I still liked pretending to be "one of the boys." Whenever we played games or anything, I would have everyone call me Stewart. It became somewhat of a nick-name for me. Hariet didn't use her boy name much after we left that foster home, though..."

Hariet: "My nick-name was Fernando!" *Snickers*

Spewart: "Every time us kids would play any game together, I would use the name. Every. Single. Time. Even if it was just tag or something. One night, when I was maybe nine years old, I got an idea. I... never told anyone, because it sounded ridiculous, and I wasn't sure how to explain it... but I thought about it a lot. Then one night, I stayed up late with my foster parents, watching an adult TV show; I don't remember exactly what it was... but that night, I learned a new word. "Transgender.""

"Once I knew the word, I began doing some research in my free time. I still didn't tell anyone... but I had continued thinking about it for years. I...... I knew that this was what I wanted. Soon, we moved to a different foster home, which was on Yoshi's Island. Eventually, I built up my courage, gathered my family, and I told them. I wanted to be male. It was one of the most... tricky and nerve-racking things to explain in my life... but thankfully, my siblings were completely supportive of me, and my foster parents were perfectly fine with that! So-"

Topper: "-Something you should know about Yoshi's Island! It has a very low population, very low amounts of authorities, and VERY low legal ages for stuff, if any at all. A ton of kids will go there to "legally" do dumb stuff. Legal drinking age? 13. Age to drive? 9. Age of consent? 11. Age to buy tobacco products? There is none! Age to-"

Rango: "AS SPEWART WAS SAYING!!!"

Topper: "Oh, right, sorry to interrupt!"

Spewart: "It's okay! Um... Topper is right. Very low legal ages. The minimum age to get surgeries, extreme medical procedures, and other stuff like that is ten. I was twelve at the time. So... a few weeks later, I got my phalloplasty done."

Hariet: "Some people might not know what that means. Can you explain it, just in case?" (:3)

Spewart: "Uhhh...... I got my genital surgery done......" *Flustered*

Hariet: "Okay, perfect, carry on!!"

Spewart: "Um... anyways... just one year after my... ahem... surgery... we moved out of that foster family, and came into our current home, with our aunt, Madame Broode. I was very nervous seeing her again, since the last time I saw her was WAY before any of my surgeries n' stuff. But luckily, she was also super supportive and glad about it. Only two years after that, I got my top surgery done!"

Hariet: "Which means??"

Spewart: "Um... breast tissue was removed, so my chest is more flat and masculine looking. That's what the scars are from."

Rango: "Tell them how you chose your name!!!"

Spewart: "Oh yeah, um... well, when I told my past foster parents that I wanted to be male, they asked me what I wanted to be called. I thought for a long time, unsure, when Hariet suggested my nick-name from when I was a child! Stewart! So that's what I was called for a couple years. Then one day, I uh... accidentally vomited onto Topper, due to my CVS... and he said-"

Topper: ""We should call you 'Spewart' 'cuz you're always friggin' spewing puke everywhere!!""

Spewart: "So he called me that for the rest of the day. But... I actually kinda liked it! It has a nice ring to it... it's unique, and funny. So... I asked Hariet and Rango to call me that, too. I've been going by Spewart longer than Stewart... ha ha..."

Topper: "I can't believe I teased you, and you STOLE my idea, and made it your identity!!! Ridiculous..."

Spewart: *Snickers* "Well... that's how I became Trans! There's... not really a specific age, like I said, but more like a time period... and... even though it took a while to get like this... I'm happy with the end result!"

Hariet: "And we are, too!" *Hugs Spewart*

Topper & Rango: *Hug Spewart, as well*

Spewart: "Awww, you guys!" *Blushes*

#broodals #spewart broodal #trans #transgender #backstory #long ass post

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rainydance91 · 5 months

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New encounter

The Darkheaven investigators team had gained quite a reputation and with it came more job offers. One chilly afternoon, the bell above the agency's door jingled, announcing a quest.

The name of the quest was Adrian Adalligate. He was a tall man, with piercing blue hair and blonde hair. His confidence was apparent as he surveyed the office, his eyes stopping on each team member and finally stopping on Ran, who he gazed.

"Good day," Adrian greeted with a sly smile, his voice a velvet murmur that sent shivers down Ran's spine. "I've heard exceptional things about your agency. I have a proposition for a particularly challenging assignment."

Alex, always the cautious one, eyed Adrian warily but maintained a professional demeanor. "Tell us more about this assignment, Mr…?"

"Pardon my rudeness" He said, while sifting his gaze to Alex. "My name is Adrian Adalligate." I'm a merchant and I'm part of the religious merchants' association called Mercator Religionis."

Adrian shifted his gaze back to Ran and leaned in. Ran felt a powerful energy coming from Adrian, what pulled him in. "There's a mansion on the outskirts, plagued by entities more malevolent than any you've encountered. I believe your unique abilities are precisely what I need."

Alex asked with growing concern, but also with a sense of excitement, "could you tell us more about the mansion?"

"This mansion has been owned by the Mercartor Religionis association for a very long time, said Adrian withouth shifting his eyes from Ran this time. Alex's cauciousness kept rising. We've been trying to maintain this historic mansion, but it has been difficult thanks to ghosts lurking around. It's mainly the poltergeist, who is lifting old paintings and precious artifacts and destroys them. We've relocated some of it, but we can't let visitors in like this so we could continue with maintaining it all and keep the history of this mansion alive. The mansion belonged to the man named Lionel Devorare who's family had live there for twelve generations. We have a lot of the mansions historic documents in the association, if you'd like to take a look at them."

"Yes, we would like to see them," said David with enthusiasm. "I've heard of your associaton before and you've worked together with the historians association before as well. I was trainee back then, but I was told stories about how you do everything meticulously."

Finally Adrian shifted his gaze from Ran and towards David. "Having someone from the historian association with us on this mission would be a great help. We are grateful to the historians association for helping us before. Having important texts restored gave us valuable information about the mansion."

David smiled. "My teacher Mr Langrin was in charge of the restorations. He was a great historian, but sadly a few years ago he passed away."

"I remember him. He was very kind and knowledgeable. It's a pity what happened to him."

David turned towards the team. "He died at an expedition, where the building they examined game crushing down and no one knows why, The building was deemed to be sturdy, even though it was old. There was an investigation and police was involved."

"I'm so sorry to hear about your teacher David." Said Ran with compassion.

"It's okay. Time has passed and though he is gone, then he lives on within the historians association. We had beautiful ceremony held for him and all of his final wishes were realized. He is at peace." Said David confidently.

David smiled at Ran and Ran smiled back. Suddenly Ran felt chill coming through his spine.

"Is everything okay." Asked Alex worriedly. "I'm okay said Ran. I just felt a chill that's all."

"I hope you don't get down with anything." Said Maria with concern.

"I really feel well. There is nothing to worry about." Said Ran reassuringly.

Adrian watched intensly the entire interaction. His gaze on Ran the entire time.

Ran finally turned to Adrian. "I'm sorry about that. We will gladly help you on your mission."

Adrien smiled at Ran and Ran was again pulled in by the energy emmiting from Adrian. "I'm very happy that you guys agree to accompany me. We in the Mercartor Religionis association will be very grateful and you will be rewarded for your time, knowledge and work greatly. I will make sure of that."

The team, enticed by the promise of a new challenge, agreed to take on the mission. Little did they know, this decision would unravel a series of events that would test not only their paranormal powers, but also the bonds that held them together.

To be continued!

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #writerblr #writers and poets #books #writer things #adventure #unexplained

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pippytmi · 3 years

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Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

#this is both a threat and a reminder that im still working on these #😌😌😌#supercorp #supergirl #bisexualgoof #i need a fic tag #disclaimer that i still do not know anything about hp #im doing more research on harry potter than i do writing smh

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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aristocratic-otter · 2 years

Text

OK, ok, I'll post something, sheesh! Lol, kidding. I wanted to post. Though I'm not sure who's left for me to tag 😂 Thank you for the tags and lots of love to @stardustasincocaine. @urban-sith, @moodandmist, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @captain-aralias

I've got (sorry!) a little angst from my erotic grope fest fic today:

A Fucked Up Cinderella Story

Baz

Without the chemicals of arousal flooding my brain, I can finally think. And my thoughts bring me no ease. I’ve spent ten hours with this boy. We’ve bared nearly every secret of our bodies to each other. And no few of the secrets of our minds too. I feel like I know him better than I know the people I’ve lived with or around for eighteen years.

And, two hours from now, he’ll be gone. I’ll never see him again.

It’s not to be borne. I don’t want to give him up.

But do I have the right to ask him for more than these twelve hours? The agency he works for has gone to great lengths to ensure that our identities are kept private from one another. I’d willingly shed my mask right now if he asked it of me. But is it fair for me to ask him to shed his?

He’s in arguably the more vulnerable position here. I’ve got family, money, and political power on my side if he were the type of person to come after me. If what he’s said is true, he has almost nothing. One friend, no money, no family.

I’d be risking a reputation of being gay (which is true) (and I don’t care if everyone knows it), and of being the type of man who hires escorts (which probably every man in the old families has done at one time or another. And no few of the women).

He’d be risking a reputation of being an escort. Prostitution may be the oldest profession, but it’s also still the most reviled, as unfair as that is. He could lose job opportunities, educational ones, and I don’t know his friend, but there are definitely some people that would discard a friendship with him over it.

So, I risk almost nothing by revealing myself, and he risks everything.

I feel a black cloud of grief rise up in me as I realize that, no, I can’t try to find out who he is.

To counter that, something good

from The Watford Games

Baz

Simon’s forehead is on mine, and our lips are a finger’s width apart. I can feel his hot breath washing over my skin, smelling of rat meat and something indefinable. It should be disgusting, but it’s not. I’m depraved, I know.

He’s saying I’m not a monster, and those are words I would have given anything to hear, before. When I was just a boy longing after another boy who hated him.

But now? Now that I’ve tasted the buttery fatty richness of Simon’s blood? He can’t tell me I’m not a monster. Not when everything in me is dying to sink my teeth into his neck and drink him dry.

“I am!” I retort, trying not to notice how my bottom lip actually brushes his when I speak.

I can’t see Simon’s eyes through the darkness, and that’s a tragedy. I want to know if he’s peering at me with suspicion, as I’m used to, or with the much newer and exciting look of interest he’s been giving me lately. I’m probably imagining the latter, though.

“Baz,” he whispers, “Shut up.”

And then he kisses me.

What? It's a classic line! 😂 Ok, tagging a few folks (for Sunday, since I'm gonna once again post at a minute to midnight🙄). @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @caitybug, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @im-gettingby, @otherworldsivelivedin, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @skee3000, @tea-brigade, and everyone mentioned at the top!

#co/ws/awtwb #simon snow series #six sentence sunday #egf2022 #hunger games au

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startanewdream · 3 years

Note

I would love a number 3 Jily from the kissing prompt list.

Also sorry I ordered this like I'm at a fast food restaurant 😂

Hiiii! Considering how long it took me to answer it, it was not fast at all!

Thanks for this prompt! I thought a lot how to fill the idea of a Jily enemies-to-lovers kiss because I thought by the time they shared kisses they would be a lot more friends... then I messed a bit with canon and found this way. Hope you enjoyed it!

Set during their Fifth Year.

Read on AO3 or below:

Seven minutes in heaven

Sirius holds his chin languidly as he considers Peter’s question.

‘Three,’ is his answer, unashamed and not pretentious in a way that James can’t help but feel jealous.

Three .

Sirius kissed three people already and James has never kissed anyone.

It shouldn’t be a competition, because he doesn’t compete with Sirius — for most of the things they are equal, their grades always so close that for a while the professors thought they had to be cheating in exams.

But Sirius kissed three people and he doesn’t even notice all the stares he gets. It doesn’t seem fair.

I’m better than him at Quidditch , James tries to tell himself, but somehow this thought doesn’t bring him any satisfaction. While he was scoring goals, Sirius was scoring something else and though it’s not a competition he can’t help but think he is losing .

The bottle spins again and again and James eyes it with uneasiness. He will pick dare if the bottle points at him, because he always chooses dare on principle, but this time he knows he just doesn’t want anyone to ask how many people he has kissed before.

But the bottle stops at Lily Evans, who watches carefully the person at the other end before saying: ‘Dare.’

Mary grins mischievously. ‘I dare you to tell me who is the most gorgeous bloke in our year.’

James almost rolls his eyes at that, because everyone always says it’s Sirius so it’s not even an interesting question; but to his surprise, Evans just shakes her head, looking flustered.

‘No, that’s against the rules. You can’t ask a question in a dare.’

‘You are no fun, Lily,’ Mary answers, and James feels like this is some inside joke between them; he wonders what's the discussion about who Evans thinks it's gorgeous. ‘Fine, I dare you to try seven minutes in heaven.’

‘You can’t involve anyone else in a dare —’

‘I am not choosing anyone now . You’ll wait there until the next dare.’

Evans seems to consider this before she nods, grimacing, obviously not happy. The rest just watches Evans and Mary; they were the ones that came with that muggle game for animating that chilly October Friday night, and they are the ones that decide the rules.

‘If you are picked, I’ll be spending those seven minutes turning your life into hell,’ Evans warns Mary, her voice amiably, and James almost smiles. Sometimes Evans is funny. ‘The first broom closet to the right, okay?’

Mary nods.

‘What’s seven minutes in hell?,’ Remus asks, curious, watching Evans leaving the Common Room. James feels a little impressed; there are only fifteen minutes until curfew, and for good-girl Lily Evans to risk a detention, she must really take the game seriously.

‘In heaven,’ Mary corrects, grinning. ‘It’s a dare where two people spend seven minutes together in a room. Or in this case, the first broom closet to the right leaving the Common Room.’

‘And what do people do then?’

‘You’ll see if you pick dare,’ Mary answers genially. She indicates the bottle to Remus. ‘Spin it?’

Remus does, but now he is blushing. James looks around; Sirius doesn’t look particularly excited, but Peter has the flushed expression on his face, a little dreamy, and James knows he is far away. Or rather his thoughts are in the broom closet next to the Common Room.

Seven minutes in heaven with Evans ? James tries to imagine it, but he can’t, not really. It wouldn’t be heaven ; she would fulfill her promise of making it a hell, because he and Evans don’t really get along. She gets annoyed with every little thing he and his friends do, never cracking a smile and, most of all, always sticking with her annoying Slytherin friend. Snivellus . There is no way that seven minutes with Evans could ever be fun…

‘James?’

He blinks, coming back to reality. Sirius is looking at him with an innocent expression that doesn’t fit him.

‘What?’

‘I asked, truth or dare?’

‘Dare,’ answers James without thinking, because he can’t risk saying truth ( no, I have never kissed anyone, I’m a failure, ok? ), before he realizes what this means.

And then everyone is smirking at him, knowing looks on their faces that makes James want to flush, except James Potter doesn’t get embarrassed. Not in public. Not evidently. He has an image to uphold.

‘Go on, then, James,’ says Sirius, indicating the portrait. ‘I dare you to spend seven minutes with Evans. Heaven or hell, it’s up to you.’

The girls giggle, and James raises quietly, pretending it’s everyday that he gets to be in a broom closet with a girl, that this is very normal for him. He grins as smugly as he can, but the smile vanishes as soon as he turns his back to him.

Seven minutes in a broom closet with a girl . Not any girl. Lily Evans, really?

And then as he is leaving, he hears Mary’s whisper: ‘Maybe Lily will finally kiss someone, you think?’

Hmm, James considers. So Evans has never kissed anyone either?

He thinks about it; it’s not like he has paid attention to Evans so far, but he knows she has been on a date before. He may have heard something about her meeting the Hufflepuff prefect in the last Hogsmeade weekend, but that was not a thought that had bothered him.

But if he’d think about Lily Evans in a way that he had never really thought before, what would he think? Well, James is not immune to girls , not at all, but it’s just he never looked at Evans because he should feel attracted to someone who is nice to him, right? Like Emme Vance; she winked at him after the first game of the season, and he’d felt something warm inside him. If only he had not been distracted by a comment from Sirius, then he’d have gone talk to her and then his never-kiss-anyone problem would have already been fixed…

But since this is a problem he apparently shares with Evans, maybe, just maybe, they can solve it together?

It’s not a bad idea, he thinks, and when he opens the door of the broom closet, for a split second, he considers that it’s a great idea. Now he is positively considering Lily Evans as someone kissable, for the first time he really notices the thing he may already have noticed about her before, but disconsidered only because he and Evans don’t get along.

And the things is that Evans is a girl and James likes girls. And she is pretty, with her long auburn hair that falls on her shoulders, that fair skin that seems so soft, her full pink lips, and her green eyes that seem to shine under the light coming from the open door. Then his eyes fall to her chest, to the curves that weren't there in the 11-year-old Evans he remembers annoying since their First Year, and, yes, Evans is a girl and James likes girls and his body has a sudden urge to remind him of this.

He looks hastily at her eyes, hoping she didn’t notice where he was staring and trying to look nice and very kissable too; but the first words that come out of Evans’ mouth are not encouraging.

‘Oh, it’s you .’

Her contempt is nearly enough to make him regret everything he thought, but his stupid teenage body isn’t always on the same page as his mind.

He closes the door, only the dim light of the lamp above them illuminating the small closet.

‘Let me guess,’ he begins, looking for the way to most annoy her. It’s a favourite pastime of his and much easier than dealing with his sudden… attraction… to her. ‘You wished it was Sirius .’

She raises her eyebrows, not impressed. ‘I was hoping it was Mary,’ she says without any shame. ‘I had planned to transform one of these buckets into a rat, she hates them.’

‘You weren’t kidding with those seven minutes in hell, were you?’

‘It’s her fault for picking the worst dare,’ Evans says, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. ‘Seven minutes in heaven , as if.’

His annoyance flares up. He still thinks Evans is gorgeous, especially with the way she crosses her arms under her chest, highlighting some curves very beautifully, but they don’t get along and they never will.

‘Your friends seem to think you’d take advantage of those seven minutes,’ he says, smirking, watching her eyes narrow in what it’s her favourite expression for him. He adores pissing her off. ‘Never kissed anyone, Evans?’

She blushes, a pinkness colouring her cheeks in the most charming way and James wants to touch her face, feel his cold hands burning with the warmth of her skin.

No, stop it , he shouldn’t want to touch her. He doesn’t stand her. And vice versa.

‘Don’t talk about you don’t know, Potter,’ she tells him angrily, but it’s just the same anger that James would use if the situation was reversed and he knows he hit a nerve.

‘What, been kissing Snivellus?’

‘Don’t call him that,’ she answers immediately. ‘And we are just friends, stop being creepy.’

‘But would you consider kissing his mouth? ‘Cause that’s creepy, Evans.’

‘I said we are only friends. You might try someday.’

‘I have friends,’ James says smugly, and Evans rolls eyes, but doesn’t reply. ‘If you never kissed anyone, what did you and Smith do last Hogsmeade weekend? Held hands like you were twelve?’

She searches her pocket for her wand, but it’s not there, so Evans throws him a look that would curse him if she had this power.

‘It’s none of your business, Potter. And I haven’t seen you having any dates to talk about my life!’

It’s true, but James can’t let her know that. ‘Oh, noticing if I have dates, Evans? What, you were jealous ?’

He takes a step closer to her, enjoying the way she just looks more nervous. That’s something more familiar for him, annoying Evans, and it’s much more comfortable to deal with, especially because if he is not concentrating, he would notice how she smells very nice.

And James is not thinking about that, of course.

‘I would be sorry for anyone who has to endure a date with you,’ she answers evenly. ‘Trust me, these seven minutes are taking way too long — imagine a full day.’

‘One might think you were imagining a full day with me, Evans.’

‘Only if I was in a nightmare.’

‘So I do appear in your dreams.’

‘Nightmares,’ she repeats, her eyes pure steel as she glares at him; James should notice the warning that look gives (he shouldn’t push her too much ), but for once he can only think on how green her eyes are, like the Forbidden Forest at night.

And he enjoys too much walking in the Forbidden Forest.

‘Maybe if you had a date with someone else you’d stop wondering about my dates,’ she declares, hissing. ‘Do you know what I imagine, Potter? You never had any date.’

‘I have,’ he lies easily, his hand running absently through his hair. ‘Just because I don’t go showing off about it —’

‘You? Not showing off? When was the last time you did something and didn’t brag about it?’

‘A gentleman does not show off,’ he says, which is something his father told him once but James didn’t think about it until now.

‘If you were a gentleman,’ she replies, a knowing smirk on her face that tells her she knows she hit a nerve with him too. Evans knows he never kissed anyone, and he can see her smugness about it, and if she tells anyone — Merlin, if she tells Snivellus he will never survive it…

‘Do you know what I imagine , Evans?’, he says, throwing her words back at her desperately. ‘That Smith kissed you and you were horrible at it.’

Her flushes intensifies, but if it’s shame or anger, James can’t know. She uncrosses her arms, coming closer, finger pointing at him menacingly.

‘He didn’t — you don’t know what you are talking about!’

‘I bet you don’t know how to snog.’

‘I can kiss just fine , Potter!’, she replies angrily (it’s anger after all, James realizes) and then she does the last thing James really imagined she would do.

She presses her lips against his.

And for two seconds, that’s all they do, really; he doesn’t know what’s keeping her immobile, and he almost asks if her brain has just turned to jelly too, because that’s what’s happening to him.

And then, in the fogness of his numb mind, other things emerge quietly. Her perfume, so close now that it’s more powerful than any other smell in the closet; the warmth of her skin, very different from that cold night; the green in her open eyes as she stares at him, as in shock as he feels, before the eyes are closed, stopping him from reading her emotions; and the sweetness of her lips, a hint of caramel that he suddenly wishes he can taste properly.

His eyes close and, in the darkness, all he can feel is Lily Evans.

They take a step closer in a synchrony that James knows they never had before, and then Evans’ hands are holding his arm and James holds her face. He moves his lips very tentatively, wanting to share more of that (whatever that is), and Evans raises on her tiptoes, her lips parting just the slightest. He feels her breath — it’s the butterbeer, a part of his mind realizes as if he should already know — and suddenly he wants to taste the drink too in her mouth.

(Is it possible to get drunk on a non-alcoholic drink? Because he feels intoxicated).

His tongue touches her lips, again tentatively (he has no idea what he’s doing, but so far things seem right), and she parts her lips even more, allowing him in. James has another moment of panic ( what is he supposed to do now? ), but then Evans’ tongue meet his and this feels right too.

Not just right. It sends shivers down his spine, it makes the world spins around him as if he is afloat and the only thing connecting to Earth is Evans’ lips and the way they move and Merlin why hasn’t he ever kissed Evans before ? He feels disconnected, as if he is watching them kissing from above, and James nearly laughs at the idea that he is snogging Lily Evans in a broom closet, that’s so unlikely — didn’t they hate each other?…

Then she breaks apart, jumping violently backwards, a look of terror on her face, and when James opens his eyes he sees that along with that kiss Evans was sharing the same thoughts as him.

She was in a broom closet snogging James Potter .

He breathes hard, urging air to fill his lungs; apparently kissing stops his natural reaction of breathing — though not other reactions. His body seems to be working overtime, judging by the way his heart is beating too fast in his chest.

Evans is out of breath too; he sees her chest rising and falling fast — then Evans notices his stares and she crosses her arms protectively, recovering faster than him.

‘I told you I could kiss,’ she says, voice full of dignity and he envies her for that.

James couldn’t form a sentence if his life depended on it.

‘You will not tell this to anyone,’ she adds, eyes narrowed again in what used to be James' favourite expression. Now he isn't sure. ‘I — I will deny it if anyone asks, so you will just look like a liar.’ She watches him. ‘Potter?’

‘Okay,’ he whispers, though he is not sure what he just agreed to. His brain is still not functioning properly.

‘Let’s go,’ she says, walking past him and opening the door, leaving just a hint of her perfume in the air.

He follows her, more on instinct than anything, surprised with the fact that he can walk .

People cheer when they enter the Common Room and James steals a glance at Evans. She looks normal, undisturbed, not at all like she has just shared a kiss with James that he… that he really wants to repeat.

‘You still have two minutes!,’ Mary notices, shaking her head disapprovingly at Evans, who just shrugs.

‘Two more minutes and one of us might not leave there alive,’ she says casually, sitting next to Mary.

‘James?,’ Sirius calls him, watching him closely, and James forces a smile upon his face.

‘Evans is right. One of us might not survive.’

They laugh, and James thinks he handled it well, half-truth as it is; everyone knows they don’t get along, he and Evans, they never had, and yet…

The bottle spins again, and now Remus is struggling to say who was his first crush, but James is not listening, not really paying attention to the game. His lips are still tingling, that lingering taste of butterbeer on his mouth, and he can’t help but steal glances at Evans — next time, he thinks feverish, he will let his hands (that stayed reprovingly still ) touch her face, hold her closer. Next time he will kiss her neck, will hear her sigh into his lips.

He will know what to do next time, he promises, but Evans never once looks in his direction.

The bottle stops pointing at her and it’s James turns to ask.

‘Truth or dare, Evans?,’ he asks, his voice sounding nicer than he ever talked to her before, while his hand runs through his hair nervously. His smile is confident, because Evans has to share that urge too, right?

But Evans eyes him as if she’d rather look at anything else and her voice is nearly dismayed when she calls ‘Dare’.

James doesn’t hesitate. ‘I dare you to go out with me, Evans.’

People whistle, but Evans doesn’t look amused. ‘It’s against the rules involving others in a dare, Potter,’ she tells him, coldly, raising. ‘And I think I’m done with this stupid game.’

She leaves the Common Room, and Mary throws a confused look at James before following her friend. Sirius looks at James with a baffled expression.

‘You stayed with her for five minutes and decided to ask her out? What happened there?’

‘Nothing,’ James says at ease. ‘I just realized Evans isn’t so bad.’

It’s a simple way of putting it, but despite what Evans may think about him, James will keep his word; that kiss (his first kiss) will remain between them only.

#Jily #Jily fanfiction #canon compliant #mostly #first kiss #James and Lily #t: fanfiction #prompt kiss

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adam-banks2024 · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago.

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness.

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say.

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.”

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--”

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.”

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up.

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face.

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path.

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks imagine #the mighty ducks x reader #mighty ducks #mighty ducks imagine #mighty ducks x reader #adam banks #adam banks imagine #adam banks x reader

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imjustwritingg · 3 years

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braced myself for the goodbye

Hi friends! This is an 8x11 speculation fic as requested. All the talk of that amazing promo and the concerns of a possible Upstead breakup took me down a seriously deep rabbit hole of feelings and angsty goodness that became this one shot. Title is lyrics from the song “Mine” by Taylor Swift. Enjoy lovelies!

TW // mentions of domestic violence

Also on AO3 and FFNet!

Braced myself for the goodbye,

'Cause that's all I've ever known

Then you took me by surprise

You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

Twelve hours ago Hailey’s morning had started out so wonderfully. She had been half asleep, anticipating the sounding of her alarm to wake her for the day, but instead she was woken up with Jay’s lips ghosting over her skin. It was dreamlike, a glimpse of what heaven could be. She had smiled uncontrollably, wiggled against him, and when she rolled in his arms to face him she was greeted with a grin and his sleepy voice saying good morning.

“A very good morning indeed. Not a bad way to get woken up. Who’d have thought that elite Detective Jay Halstead would be such a sap? And a cuddler too.”

He had rolled his eyes at her, but there was a playful smirk on his face and he just pulled her closer against him. His arms wound under and around her and his hands pressed against her back. The feel of his fingers had sent goosebumps shooting out all across her skin.

“I think you love it,” he told her as he casted quick glances between her lips and her eyes.

“I do love it,” she said while moving her hand up his chest and around his neck to the back of his head.

He hummed out a response and leaned his head down closer so that little space was left between them.

“I love you,” he confessed.

He hadn’t given her a chance to respond and instead pressed his lips against hers for several moments, swallowing the moan that escaped her and not waiting or expecting her to say the words back.

The moment he said them and his lips were on hers, Hailey felt like she was floating. She knew she loved him, she had for a while, and a part of her knew he loved her too, but hearing the words as they fell from his lips was something she didn’t think she’d ever forget. It put an ache in her chest that was so good she wished she could bottle it up and keep it for forever.

The moment was cut short when they’d been interrupted yet again by a ringing phone and before she could say the words back that she so desperately wanted to say to him, they had to get dressed and head into the district. What Hailey hadn’t anticipated was the case they’re pulled into wrecking her beyond comprehension.

What was supposed to be a simple wellness check quickly turned into a search for a missing family and an ugly domestic violence case that Intelligence took the lead on. And in the process of connecting the dots and weeding through the lies of an abuser, Hailey was forced to remember her past and the monster her own father had been while she was growing up. The monster he could still be.

By the time the case is over and the last of the files have been closed, Hailey is completely deteriorated from the workday. She just wants to crawl into bed and try to forget, but when she enters her apartment she quickly spots a hoodie hanging over the back of her couch that doesn’t belong to her. Suddenly her heart aches again as she thinks about her partner.

Jay had been an anchor for her throughout the day just as he’d always been since they became partners. He kept her grounded without being overbearing, letting her know he was there for her and by her side. But as the day went on Hailey reflects on the abuse she doesn’t think she’ll ever really fully move on from.

Weekends that were supposed to be spent having fun with her brothers and being normal kids were instead spent running to the nearest sibling’s bedroom and locking the door when her father had drunk one too many beers.

His voice was always so loud when he was yelling that Hailey could swear the whole house would shake. He’d start downstairs, shouting at her mother, knocking his fists into her first, and when she’d sink to the floor or pass out he’d go in search of Hailey or one of her brothers.

There are moments she can remember so vividly hiding in so many places to avoid her father’s hands or whatever belt or cord he had been able to find. The back of a closet, the bathtub, under the dining room table, the shed out back when it wasn’t too cold. She’d spent so much of her childhood hiding and fearing her father, watching the relationship between him and her mother zig zag and spiral, that most days Hailey’s not sure how she turned out to be even remotely sane or normal by any means. She remembers how he’d always apologize to them all, tell them he loved them. Like loving someone and beating the crap out of them were synonymous and one in the same.

She tries so hard to not compare her life with her father to her relationship with Jay, but she can’t help it. She knows deep down that her partner would never think of hurting her the way her father has, but after the day she’s had and the too much time she’s had to think, she’s also unsure if she can love him back the way he deserves. She wonders if maybe it was a sign from the universe when they were interrupted earlier in the morning before she could say the words back to him that he so easily could say to her.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to say them.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to love him.

There’s a knock that breaks Hailey out of her thoughts and she makes her way to the door. She glances through the peephole and sighs.

Of course it’s him. Who else would it be?

She considers not opening it, but then thinks of what she has to do and the conversation that needs to be had so she opens the door and forces out a smile as she looks up at her partner.

“Hey,” Hailey nearly whispers.

“Hi,” he says back with a half-smile.

She lets him enter the apartment and closes the door behind him. She makes her way towards the kitchen, leans back against the island, and then nods to the couch.

“You left your hoodie here,” she tells him.

He glances to the couch and looks back at her, gives a short nod. “I didn’t come here for my hoodie. I wanted to see you, make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m...dealing,” she says slowly, as if trying to find the right words to say.

He waits for her to start and steer the conversation, but when she doesn’t he takes a small step towards her.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.

She shakes her head, but it doesn’t give him the relief it should. Not when she’s looking at him the way she is, as if she’s about to give him the worst news of his life.

“We should talk. I’m sure you have questions,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Maybe, but you know you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, Hailey. I’m not gonna push you,” he tells her.

She does know, but she also knows she has to do this while she still has some nerve left.

“I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.”

He nods and gestures to the couch. “You wanna sit?”

She shakes her head and he shuffles his weight to his other foot as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. He can tell she needs a moment. He’s always been able to read her, give her exactly what she needs without saying a word, so he waits until she takes a deep breath and then she speaks.

“I don’t think I ever really learned relationships,” she starts, but her eyes don’t meet his as if she’s somewhere else entirely and not standing there in the same room with him.

“My parents didn’t exactly give me and my brothers the greatest example of what one should look like. My dad - he used us all like his own personal punching bags. And my mom, she took it. She just took it every single time and I never really understood it when I was little. Five year old me couldn’t understand why daddy was hurting mommy. It got to a point where it was just normal, expected. And as I got older, I still didn’t ever fully understand it. I think maybe it just happened so much that it was burned into my mom’s brain that, that’s what love is. That it’s okay if someone hurts you as long as they say they love you and they’re sorry after.

“I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve loved them, or tried to anyway, but relationships haven’t ever been easy for me. It’s like a what-if game constantly playing in my head, like a voice in the back of my mind that I can’t ever silence completely. And it gets loud. It gets so loud sometimes. The second-guessing and the wondering if there’s an ulterior motive for things someone says or does. It’s something I’ve never been able to turn off. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to turn off. Like it’s burned into my brain too. There are parts of me that are just unfixable. Parts of me that I don’t think will ever fully heal.”

There’s a look on her face that Jay knows all too well and he braces himself for what’s about to come. He watches Hailey lean back against the island and she tightens her arms across her chest almost defensively. He doesn’t say a word though, just gives her a nod telling her to continue and waits for it.

“Being your partner is easy for me, Jay. Being your friend is easy. And I know we didn’t ever label whatever it is that we’ve been doing, but I don’t really know how to be a girlfriend. Especially a girlfriend who works with their boyfriend. I’ve tried it before and I don’t know how to be that person. Maybe it’s because of my parents. Maybe I just don’t really know how to love either and that’s not fair to you. Even with Garrett. I know I loved him, but I just – I didn’t know how to. And in the end he paid the ultimate price for loving me.”

Hailey pauses, takes a breath, and then continues. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Jay. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been so good to me and I like being with you, but I – I don’t...”

She looks away from him as she blows out another breath, unable to finish her sentence, but he does it for her.

“You want it to be over,” he says.

The dejected tone of his voice sends a pang through her chest and she nods her head slowly as she meets his eyes again. There’s a sadness in them she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before.

“I think that might be best for both of us. I shouldn’t have – I thought I could do it. That night in the bar when I told you about the job offer and you kissed me? I wanted that for so long. I wanted you. But I’m beginning to realize that just because you want something it doesn’t mean you should have it. And I would never forgive myself if I hurt you down the road by saying or doing something stupid in the heat of the moment. Not after everything you’ve already been through. You don’t deserve that and you shouldn’t have to live with that possibility or my issues. You shouldn’t want that. So, yeah. I want it to be over for both of our sakes.”

She’s not sure what he’s thinking and it’s the first time in a long time that she can’t read him, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to do this, wishes it could be different. That she could be different. But it’s not and she’s not, and she’s afraid that if it doesn’t happen now then both of them will just hurt each other later. So she does the hard part for the both of them, ripping it off clean like a Band-Aid, and ignoring the sting it leaves.

She’s not sure how much time passes as she watches him and waits for him to speak. She can tell he’s thinking too hard, digesting what she’s told him, and the longer he’s silent the more she thinks that her decision to end it all right here is the right call, but then he surprises her when he looks up at her with glistening eyes full of love and compassion and understanding. Everything that he is. She’s not sure she deserves it.

Jay shakes his head slowly as he looks at her from a few feet away. He’s kept his distance, not wanting to make her feel cornered or not in control of the conversation and situation, but then he takes a few steps toward. His eyes burn into hers and she feels her heart pounding relentlessly inside her chest.

“You said you don’t know how to love, but I don’t think that’s true. Hailey, if it weren’t for you being my partner, for your friendship, your love for me - platonic or otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.”

His voice is low, almost guttural, as if he’s lost his voice and it’s too painful to speak, but he keeps his eyes on her and goes on still.

“Hailey, you’re the person who loved me enough to make me realize I needed therapy. You’re the one who loved me even after knowing about my own past and the demons I have. My PTSD, what happened with Erin, my dad. You showed me every time you’ve stuck by my side and trusted my decisions even when others didn’t. You showed me when you chose to stay here instead of taking that job in New York. No one has ever chosen me over anything like that before. Not even my own brother. You have showed me countless times you love me without ever saying the words. But that word means something different to you because of your family and I get it. I don’t need to hear you say you love me to know that you do.”

He takes slow, hesitant steps towards her until he’s standing in front of her within arm’s reach to still give her, her space. He looks at her with tears still in his eyes, trying to keep them from falling, as he watches her own roll down her cheeks now.

“I’m not going anywhere Hailey. I know things haven’t been easy for you, they haven’t been fair or made sense. Life hasn’t been kind to you, but that doesn’t make me care about you or love you any less than I do, and it doesn’t make you unworthy of receiving that love either. The things you do for the people in your life, complete strangers even. You have the biggest and most beautiful heart of anyone I’ve ever known.

“You deserve this Hailey. We both do. I know you’re scared, I am too, but not because of your past. I’m scared of losing you. We don’t need to define anything or put a label on it if that’s what you wanna do. Girlfriend might be a bit of a weak term for you anyway when you’re so much more than that. We can take it one day at a time, take things as they come, but I want this. I want you. I wanna be with you.”

“Jay, I - “

“If you really want it to be over between us then I’ll respect your decision and I’ll walk out the door and we’ll never talk about it again. All I’m asking for is a chance to show you how it’s supposed to be, that love can be good. That it is good. That it doesn’t come with conditions or ulterior motives. That you deserve every good thing in this world. And I’ll be here to remind you when you think you don’t.”

He can see the wheels turning in her head, but her eyes are everywhere except on him now and he can’t quite read the look on her face, and it scares him.

There’s a fleeting moment where he knows he won’t come back from this, that she was it for him, but he won’t push her. He won’t do that to her. And when she finally meets his eyes again, but doesn’t say a word, he ignores the crushing of his chest and the sinking of his stomach, and takes a step forward to close the distance between them.

He knows what this is now.

Why she mentioned his forgotten hoodie. Why she didn’t wanna sit. Why she’s kept her distance.

She wasn’t intending for him to stay.

He lifts an arm slowly, not wanting to scare her, and rests the palm of his hand against the side of her face. He brushes his thumb over her cheek like he has a dozen times before now, realizing a second later that this might be the last and it sends an ache through him again. He leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead, lingering a few beats longer than he should, but if it’s the last time he kisses her he’s going to savor it. He removes his lips and drops his hand a moment later, and steps away from her.

When she still doesn’t speak all he can do is give a slow nod before he turns for the door. He doesn’t make it three steps before she calls out to him, her voice shaking and his name cracking in half as it falls from her lips. He stops mid-stride and she notices the slight hesitation from him before he turns around to face her, and then she sees that his tears have fallen. Tears for her. For them.

She knows what she is about to do is the hardest thing she’ll ever do and it’s terrifying, but not as terrifying as it would be if she let him walk out her door for good.

“I want that with you. The good kind of love. I want it and it scares the hell out of me,” she breathes out through hiccups and fresh tears.

It’s all he needs and then he’s walking towards her. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close and tight against him with one arm around her back and his other hand holding her head to his chest.

Her whole body shakes and she can’t stop crying now as she leans into him. And then she whispers, “I do love you and I want you to stay.”

He squeezes his arms around her in their embrace and presses his lips to the side of her head.

“I’ll stay,” he tells her, knowing it’s the only thing she needs to hear from him.

Her eyes close at the sound of his words and her entire body goes limp in his arms. It’s the first moment since the mess of their day on the job that she finally feels herself fully relax and be at ease. She grips his shoulder with a trembling hand, the rest of her body still shaking, but he continues to hold her up and hold her against him like the anchor he’s always been for her.

She knows he means staying more than just tonight and there’s a moment, maybe for the first time in her life, where the future doesn’t worry her or scare her. Not when it includes him, them.

#upstead #upstead fic #hailey upton #jay halstead #jay x hailey #chicago pd

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1ddotdhq · 3 years

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🎊 Wed 13 Jan ‘21 👾

Zayn had a party (in a storage unit?), Liam has a podcast, Niall still likes golf, and Louis is calling out shitty politicians! Meanwhile, Jason Sdksksks is trying his damndest to win back his lady love from the nefarious Mr. Styles’ wiley ways. Yes, yes, it’s all very dramatic, so let’s get started!

Alright, clearly Zayn had the zarty of the YEAR last night as we got oodles and oodles of pictures of, uh, Zayn-themed party decorations that would be very on brand for any twelve year old stan but honestly I CANNOT imagine him wearing party hats with...his face on them cut out Mishapocalypse-style. I mean, he would still look like a ting, of course, but a very odd ting, especially when mixed with his own personalized Bode jacket that matches Harry’s personalized Bode Vogue pants, with their own twist: the Nobody Is Listening cover art, weed, Star Wars, 993, and some others! We know it was at Gigi's apartment building thanks to the many pap pics of the games and balloons being brought around (trust Zayn to find every way to get papped other than his actual face) but wow does it look like the whole thing was set up in some kind of....industrial storage unit? Odd, but points for social distancing, I guess? The party mastermind, Gigi, bought him a FIFA-inspired birthday cake (more on FIFA later), and they played retro video games that I haven’t seen since *I* was twelve, and drank orange juice looking cocktails. She also posted a picture of herself and Zayn all dressed up as some video game characters, captioned, “Team No Sleep! Happiest of birthdays to our Zaddy baba. So special. Love you long time, and thank you for making me a mama to the best girl ever”. Well, it looks to me like they’ve been getting plenty of sleep - they look bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for a playground party. Honestly, thinking about it, maybe the theme *was* “twelve year old who likes zayn and video games”....And there’s still MORE news, party people! Apparently, ZAYN is taking on the role of host for three virtual album listening parties. There’s no zoom, and no video, but on Jan 15, 19, and 21, we can all sit in a chat room and listen to the album together. It’s free for everyone, and hopefully he shows up, so see y’all there!

So onto the FIFA section of the update, of which I know nothing about, but give me a few months and Liam will teach me all about it in his NEW FIFA PODCAST! What??? What happened to that Sabbatical Leeeyummm???? Clearly, it’s gonna have to wait for a bit because for the months of January and February, he’s going to be hosting an eight episode podcast (co-hosted by SkyHost sports broadcaster Jaydee Dyer and in collaboration with Universal Music Group), which premiered TODAY! Surprise!! Someone get *this* man a FIFA cake! The podcast will pair star players and musicians and aims to “make football truly global, accessible and inclusive”, which to me just means we’re gonna get a bunch of fun bts stories from Liam and other artists like we did today! He tells us some pre-show 1D rituals (‘making Harry say funny shit in silly voices’ and ‘throwing gummy bears in each others mouths’) and about his own relationship with music (“amazing how music can lift your mood out of anything”) and songwriting (“it can come many ways”). Also, he has a huge crush on Tom Hardy, but that’s not special, I, too, watched Venom and fell head over heels for that Man!

Another man I’m head over heels for: Louis! He showed up on twitter INCENSED about the Health Secretary of Britain and his evasive tactics on the question of free school meals. Piers Morgan (ugh) took on the Health Secretary (UGH) and asked if he regretted voting against the extension of free school meals in Britain, noting that, had it not been for Marcus Rashford’s excellent campaign, this would have gone unresolved and children would have gone hungry. The Health secretary, gusano ligoso that he is, just said, “I’m really glad the situation has been resolved”. Louis clearly feels the same way I do about that cockroach that is unfit to call himself a man, and said, “This is disgusting. What an evasive coward! Hold your hands up and take responsibility!” Louis then retweeted Marcus Rashford’s tweet calling for a full review of a Free School Meal system across the UK. One more FIFA cake for these two, please!

And the Fauxlivia saga continues (sans astrologers today, sorry!) Elle magazine printed that Jason Sudeikis (Sdksksks from here on out) is “desperate to win Olivia back to repair their family” and is “hoping that...Harry will get bored and move on before too long”. Mhmmm, well, don’t worry, darling! The stars say that you’ll have your family back by June (apparently! but COVID related delays may apply) so just hold on for a bit! Harry, meanwhile, is...MIA but liking Arlo Park’s cover of Watermelon Sugar, which was, frankly, captivating and gorgeous, and Lizzo’s gorgeous post captioned, “the bar is high when you’re the reference”. And, discourse would like you to know she made a mistake yesterday, Jeff's quote about how soothing someone's presence was was about Kid Harpoon, not Harry, though we’re sure H has a soothing presence, too! I mean, just look at the power his text messages hold!

#zayn #liam payne #louis tomlinson #harry styles #hi guys i just want you to know Jason Skdsksks was the funniest thing I said today huh #also a zaynapocalypse psrty huh #well that’s A choice #sooo #anyways!#song of the day!!#walking in Memphis by mark Cohn

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isagrimorie · 3 years

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[initial reactions] Doctor Who - Revolution of the Daleks

TLDR: I liked it! But I do have some nitpicks. But bottom line, I liked it! Especially the exit!

Apologies going in, if it’s rambling and incoherent.

First off, I’m going to get my criticisms out of the way:

- They really need to hire these two people:

a) Sensitivity readers

b) They need to have people of color in charge of casting. Andy Pryor has done a great job casting people but. Since they opened up casting more actors of color to be more diverse... most people in guest roles die. So it ends up being Not A Great Look.

It’s the kind of breezy: We’re hiring more actors of color without really considering the optics of it. Colorblind casting in this way shouldn’t be colorblind. More diversity behind the scenes is needed, especially in casting.

Colorblind casting isn’t representation. Execs have to consider how it looks that a black man is helping create ‘Security Drones’ for the government.

c) I get why Jack Robertson lived, and I’m actually okay with it because I know Chibbs is going somewhere and he’s interconnecting Specials to be their own kind of continuity, so next Special or series we will have Robertson appearing. But I can’t believe the Doctor believed Robertson. Unless she’s really learned from not interfering with politics, but man I wish there’s more vindication to that. I do have a sense of where this is going though, more on that later.

d) I wish they’d gone harder with the Dalek = Police thing.

e) I really kind of wish the Doctor escaped on her own.

And now for my thoughts and the happy!

RYAN! I LOVE RYAN. I LOVE RYAN BEING EMOTIONALLY MATURE AND PUSHING BACK ON THE DOCTOR. It felt... earned that they do and, Ryan’s always been the more hesitant of the three and the more grounded. I love that it’s Ryan that the Doctor confided in, I’ve always felt like Ryan was the one Thirteen connected to the most after Grace died. And I love his development, ever since Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos Ryan is the first to quote the Doctor back to herself from the guns rule and now here to ‘New can be scary’, reminding the Doctor of her own words.

But also, I love that Ryan felt more connected to Earth, with his friends. Yaz was always the one who looks to the horizon. I like that Ryan pushed back on the smokescreen the Doctor tried to put up. Ryan was tired of the smokescreen. He had 10 months to work on his feelings about it and realized... he liked being home.

I wish we saw more what they were doing at home, like what Chibnall wrote for the Ponds in Power of Three. I did see this was his arc he was building to.

I liked that Graham was torn but eventually his loyalties are with Ryan.

I honestly think the fam thought the Doctor was just gone for a week, her time.

Also: FINALLY A COMPANION EXIT WHERE THEY’RE THE ONES WHO WALK AWAY. And because it’s time.

NO MORE TRAPPED IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE OR DYING OR BEING CONVERTED PLEASE. Anyway, that is why I was vindicated because I was getting pretty antsy at all the twitter posts almost gleeful at the thought of companion death.

Nope. No more please. No more world ending, universe ending, heartbreaking ends. I want a Jo Grant walk away, and that is what happened. (Er, I hope we don’t get a Tegan leaving from Yaz, though. Sad and disillusioned walk away).

Yaz. Oh, dear, Yaz, who seems to have tossed her career away running after the Doctor’s shining star. I loved her conversation with Jack, he was a nice contrast and sounding board. Also, Jack was much kinder to the Doctor because they didn’t miss each other, the Doctor (according to RTD’s retcon) deliberately left Jack on Satellite Five.

Yaz is willing to run and jump without looking because of the Doctor and I love that we got her feelings about this.

And, of course, the Doctor. The moment Ryan said she missed 10 months, I felt she knew the clock was ticking on her ‘fam’. She’s trying to be good to them and do right by them.

(The Doctor knows Ryan’s ready to leave, she knew it. She’s trying to be in denial about it. But she knows).

It’s a small detail but when she processed the ‘ten months’ bit, she quickly looked to Ryan. Because if it’s one of the subtext things around is that she wanted to be a better father to Ryan than his real dad. But she still skipped out on him unknowingly.

The way he just brushed it off, because the worst part is. Ryan is used to it.

It’s sad that the Doctor opening up to the fam was brought on after a decades’ long solitary, and probably a promise to be better. But, she calculated wrong, or the TARDIS deliberately chose to go to that time. Whatever the case, just when she’s opening up to them is when Ryan decided his time with the Doctor was at an end.

God, the moment when Thirteen said: “Mostly... angry.”

I felt this. hard.

I think it was @ssaalexblake who mentioned that Thirteen acknowledging she’s angry might help with all of Thirteen’s repressed anger issues. And I think these are baby steps towards that.

She’s actually been so angry for so long, but she kept pushing it down. Like I said, Thirteen, in a way, reminds me of Raylan Givens of Justified. People think he’s mild mannered, but as his ex-wife amicably opined, Raylan was the angriest man she knew.

And I feel this for this Doctor but at least, now she’s addressing it. The first step in fixing a problem, is identifying the problem.

This was made in 2019. Thirteen being in a repeating lockdown felt very 2020 to me. The things that made me go: Oof, was the Harry Potter thing, the Doctor’s always loved HP. Unfortunately it’s post-2020 hindsight where we go: whoof.

I love Thirteen still mouthing off and being obnoxious towards other Doctor Who baddies. The Weeping Angel thing is cool and so are the Silents. BUT ALSO THE DOCTOR CALLED THE P’TING TINY! AND SHE TRIED TO EAT THE PRISON BARS.

And then, of course, being more obnoxious with the Daleks. It’s pretty clear the difference in rawness of the Doctor’s feelings for the Daleks and the Cybermen. The Daleks’s an old ember. Her feelings for them are ice cold. A purity of feeling. The Daleks are evil and she has no compunction on killing them, the Cybermen? More personal and a raw nerve.

She’s willing to be cold towards the Daleks.

I really like that Yaz has more skin in the game, and she knows what she can lose now. And after her talking with Jack, after seeing his perspective on it, and from his words knows that sometimes the Doctor just disappears from people’s lives.

And I love the pushback:

Skewered.

But true because she is trying to stay still and be with the fam and not leave them. But the unfortunate truth is, the Doctor does run away, and the Doctor does leave people behind and a lot of the times, the Doctor doesn’t come back because they’re an emotional coward.

The thing about Thirteen is she’s probably the longest of the Doctors to not disappoint her companions. She’s always managed to stop bad guys and always been there for them. It’s an impressive track record for the Doctor. She’s built herself up in their eyes as someone they can rely on, and then she failed them by not getting back to them in time.

It’s not her fault, and none of them know how long it’s been for the Doctor, by the way she’s asked them I feel like they think she’s only been gone for a week.

Honestly, I’m impressed how the Doctor didn’t make it about her -- being in prison for longer than they thought. She’s looking at it from their point of view, because she already knows what big leaps in time would affect her friends.

TBH Revolution of the Daleks felt like shades of Last Christmas in that the Doctor regretted missing out time with her companion/s. In Last Christmas, the Doctor got his time back with Clara, in RotD, time passed.

Back to the Doctor and the Daleks tho.

This reminded of Twelve’s: “You are monsters. That is the role you seem determined to play. So it seems I must play mine. The Man that stops the Monsters.”

(Look, Chibnall’s Moffat references aren’t as sledgehammer, but he does reference a lot of Moffat’s things.).

Except with Thirteen, I’m actually more terrified. Jodie does this thing where her eyes goes black and she kind of disappears into herself, this is what happened here. This promise isn’t actually good IMO.

This is not a comforting face. This is a ‘I’m gonna kill a whole boatload of Daleks face and I’m not sorry, in fact I might enjoy doing that’ face.

(And, a brief aside to Robertson, I feel like the Specials have their own kind of special ‘movie’ continuity and more of his story will play out in the Specials, where hopefully he will get his comeuppance because, to me, I feel that’s where it’s going. This is more groundwork laying.

I don’t like it when the Doctor interferes with Human affairs, especially government -- because look what happened with Harriet Jones and how the Doctor broke the Golden Age. Also, I don’t want real world leaders to exist in the Whoverse because I want them to have a completely different track from us. So. Yeah, New Year’s Specials have their ongoing storyline. I’m actually not mad about it, and I enjoy Mr. Big’s performance. He’s a sleezeball. A sleezeball that knows more now. (He isn’t T rump but he isn’t better either). At least I find him enjoyable and not outright offensive. I’m okay seeing him again for the next Specials. I hope next time he does get his comeuppance.)

Now, the goodbyes:

The HUG.

We’ve been waiting for the Doctor to be more physically affectionate with the fam, and it took the Doctor being locked down for decades (maybe?), and Ryan and Graham leaving for her to hug them. And we’re all right, Thirteen gives great hugs.

The feeling Thirteen’s been running away from is here, sadness. It’s good that Yaz decided to stay other wise... she’s just going to run headlong into forgetting her problems, Doctor Style.

And again, learning and re-learning things: ‘It’s okay to be sad.’

Oh, Thirteen.

(Before Twelve, I don’t think I was this sympathetic to the Doctor -- no wait, I was with Nine. Ten and Eleven tested my patience but it’s with Twelve and Thirteen where I’m 100% invested in the Doctor.

I also love that they’re kind of soft touching the Timeless Child thing, and as someone on twitter mentioned, this feels like an examination of an adoption story. The Doctor is going to search for their identity, their home).

I honestly wish Jack stayed in the TARDIS with Thirteen and Yaz. Jack’s a great balance, especially pushing back at the Doctor and her tactics. Her NUCLEAR tactics. I am glad that the Doctor’s still a dick to Jack, not much of an asshole as they were when the Doctor was Ten but still a dick.

Also, one thing I really love about Barrowman is that when he’s in Doctor Who, he knows it’s not his show and he doesn’t showboat, and the man can showboat.

I’d rather Jack than random guy that I didn’t even know was gonna happen until very late.

Anyway, TLDR to all this: I enjoyed this very much! Still a lot to be parsed through in things that needs to be parsed through as I mentioned, but on the whole? I loved it.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #jack harkness #revolution of the daleks #initial reactions #long post #rambling and incoherent

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combat-wombatus · 3 years

Note

YEAHHH YOU KNOW IM HERE!!! BC I LOVE YOU COCO!!

okayy so for my request 👉🏽👈🏽

can i get bakugo x f!reader and prompts: 14. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” + 24. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

okay i love you!! 🥺🥺 thank you for doing this!

14: “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” 24: “Would you mind if I kissed you?” Character: Bakugou

ok so like...i may or may not have gone slightly overboard and turned this into a whole fic-

it’s like 2.2k words lakdjfhasjkdh enjoy-

thank u for requesting aves 🥺

“What? A party? I’m not fucking going.” Bakugou snarled. “Staying up past midnight is overrated. I need my sleep.”

“But Bakubro,” Kaminari whined. “We’re hosting! Mina planned it all, and she spent a lot of time doing it! You should at least go. You don’t have to stay up that late.”

“Tch. As if I care.” Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped forward even more. “Pinky can waste all the time she fucking wants to. I’m not going.”

“It’s our last year at UA! Come on,” Kirishima joined in. “You can leave early if you want to! It’ll be mostly in the dorms anyways. Mina did plan a scavenger hunt though, in Gym Gamma. She says that she planted “mementos” of our school experience. Isn’t that fun?”

“Fun my ass. It’s stupid, is what it is.” He glared at Kirishima. “Should’ve visited my parents. Even the old hag isn’t as loud as all of you extras in the dorms.”

“You say that like you didn’t blast a hole in the wall just last week,” Kaminari pointed out.

Kirishima winced. “Denki-”

“WELL WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO PRETEND THAT THEY WERE FUCKING KIDNAPPED?!?” Bakugou waved a fist wildly in Kaminari’s face.

“Fair point, fair point. You should’ve seen the look on your face though! (Y/N) thought you’d murder her!” Kaminari cackled.

“I’D NEVER FUCKING MURDER HER! ARE YOU INSANE??” Bakugou’s palms started crackling.

“Hey, chill bro, we know that.” Kirishima tried to calm him down.

Kaminari was not so lucky. “Why? You joke about murdering us all the time. What’s so different about her?”

Bakugou turned, a quick retort on the tip of his tongue, before he realized that Kaminari was, actually, right for once.

“She’s…she’s…” He stuttered.

Kaminari let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou’s face turned beet red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Suit yourself. We know the truth.” Kaminari patted Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, Bakubro! (Y/L/N)-chan is going to be at the party too! Why don’t you confess to her there? That would be fun! And then Mina will forgive you for leaving early too!”

Bakugou’s left eye twitched. “There’s nothing to confess, Shitty Hair. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what Mina thinks.”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked at each other, then turned back to Bakugou.

“Sure,” Kirishima smirked. “Nothing at all.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Mina ran up to you. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

You turned to face her. “Sure am! Who isn’t? It’s in the dorms anyways so there’s not much of a point in not coming, right?”

Mina sighed. “Kiri and Kami are having a hard time convincing Bakugou to come. Something about his sleep schedule?”

You were a little disappointed, but it was to be expected. Bakugou didn’t participate much in team-building activities anyways. “Can’t relate. My sleep schedule has been fucked to high heaven.”

“Right? What a crappy excuse.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Sero’s waiting for me in the gym to help set the scavenger hunt up. See ya later, yeah?”

“Sure! Do you want more help? I can help you guys set things up if you’d like,” you asked.

Mina leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “Nope! It’s all good! And besides, I want you to participate in the game, so you can’t help!”

You smiled. “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll see you later then!”

“See ya!” Mina winked and gave you a little wave.

“So, the rules of the game are simple: whichever team finds and touches our very own 3-A New Year’s Ball, together, wins!” Mina exclaimed from her place on the couch.

“What kind of shitty game is this?” Bakugou growled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mina pouted. “Hey! Sero and I spent a lot of time making this happen!”

“Yeah! They were amazing!” Ochaco jumped up too. “Stop being ungrateful!”

“Fine, whatever.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “Get on with it already. We don’t have all night.”

“Actually, we do! Not everyone here has the sleeping schedule of an old man,” Kaminari piped in.

“Shut up, Dunce Face. Nobody asked.” Bakugou scowled.

“Hey! Back to the regular program. You get to choose your own partners! Isn’t that exciting?” Mina waved her piece of paper around wildly. “Now get to it! You have three minutes!”

You looked around the room. You would’ve asked Mina, but she and Sero weren’t participating since they were the ones who hid it. They had also apparently hidden clues all over Gym Gamma as to where the location of the ball was.

“Ocha-” Oops. She’d already teamed up with Iida.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, come over here!” Bakugou yelled across the room. You sighed. Of course.

“Sorry Bakubro, I already have a partner…” Kirishima said rather sheepishly.

“…you WHAT?”

“Yeah…Momo here didn’t have a partner yet and…well…Mineta was hot on her trail,” Kirishima tried to explain as Momo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shuckers!” Mineta faceplanted onto the couch. “I never get what I want”

“Hmph. Karma’s a bitch.” Jiro smirked from her position next to Kaminari.

“Dunce Face, you got a partner too?” Bakugou sighed, exasperated.

“Right next to me!” Kaminari pointed to Jiro with his thumb. You smiled in satisfaction. They were honestly adorable.

You turned to the rest of the room. Hagakure had already snagged Ojiro, Midoriya had, unsurprisingly, paired with Todoroki. Shoji and…Tsu? Koda had paired up with Sato, and…you snickered a little at the last pairing. Tokoyami had been bombarded with Aoyama’s relentless chatter. Which left…you and Bakugou.

Huh. That was weird. You swore that not everyone had a partner just a minute ago. And it was awfully strange that Tokoyami would choose to pair with Aoyama instead of you or even Bakugou, but…you supposed that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“So. (Y/N).” Bakugou cleared his throat. “Partners?”

“Uh…yeah,” you replied, fidgeting slightly with your hands.

“Ok! Everyone is paired up and ready to go?” Mina was practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Most everyone chimed in unison.

“Let’s do it then! Sero, come on! Lead the way!” She jumped down from her place on the kitchen counter.

“What the fuck? Pinky and Tape Arms hung that thing all the way up there?” Bakugou swore.

“You can use your quirk to get up there though, right?” You looked at him, brows furrowed.

“Duh. But what about you?” He looked you up and down. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t fly.”

“Easy! I’ll just ride on your back!” You chirped. “Unless you can’t carry me?”

“Tch. As if. Get on.” He squatted down, letting you scamper onto his back. “Ready?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

You leaned into the crook of his neck, breath lightly fanning his face. “Ready,” you confirmed.

Cackling gleefully, Bakugou shot up into the sky, palms ablaze.

And as quickly as he flew, he was dropping to the ground even quicker.

“DAMMIT!” He glared daggers at the ice wall that had appeared over your heads. “Fucking Deku! And that IcyHot bastard!”

Spiraling, he tried his best to save the two of you from a hard impact on the ground, but he was only successful in twirling around in the air like a ballerina.

“Shit!” He tried to flip upside down in order to land on his feet, but the momentum was against him.

With an “oof”, the two of you landed in a pile on the (luckily) snow-covered ground.

“You alright there, idiot?” Bakugou said gruffly.

You groaned. You weren’t sure how, but you definitely sprained something with the way you landed. Ankle? Wrist? Perhaps both?

“Hey. Hey!” Bakugou climbed over the snowdrift to reach you. “Get up! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, Bakugou!” You pushed his hand away. “It’s just a sprain,” you pointed to your ankle.

“Nothing else?” He seemed intent on picking you up, so you let him.

“Nope, everything’s fine,” you assured him.

“Sorry about that!” Midoriya called out from atop his perch on Todoroki’s newly-formed glacier. “We got a little carried away!”

Bakugou stilled. You winced. Midoriya was in for a rough time.

“Deku…” He ground out. “What the FUCK do you think you and IcyHot are doing?”

“I-I’m sorry! We didn’t mean to knock you down from the air!” Midoriya started gesturing nervously. “I-I swear it was an a-accident!”

Todoroki sighed. “It was an accident. Let it go, Bakugou. And (Y/N), we are very sorry for having injured you. Would you like for us to accompany you to Recovery Girl? The game is over now.”

“The fuck did you say, IcyHot? No fucking way. I’m taking her.” He stomped towards Recovery Girl’s office, you firmly nestled in his arms.

“Think we succeeded?” Todoroki turned to Midoriya. “They seem to be getting along fine.”

“I…I’m not sure. It’s not great that (Y/L/N)-chan had to get injured for this to work, but…Recovery Girl will fix her up fine and Kacchan might finally realize that he has feelings for her…”

“Hey guys! Great job!” Sero dangled Mina from a tree branch overhead. “Look at them go!”

“It’s all according to plan…” Mina clapped her hands together. “Now, we just have to wait for the clock to chime twelve…”

“Fucking assholes.” Bakugou hadn’t stopped muttering underneath his breath since you’d left.

You giggled. He was so angry over such a small thing. It wasn’t like the fall was intentional; you’d both just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bakugou stopped walking and stared at you. “What?” He frowned at you. “Why are you laughing? Did you knock your fucking head on the way down too?”

You started full-on laughing this time. “No, Bakugou. It’s just…you’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tried to explain. “Your eyebrows scrunch up and you purse your lips and…”

By this point, Bakugou was a blushing mess. No one had ever called him “cute” when he was angry before.

After a while, he broke the silence. “So…I don’t scare you?”

You laid your head on his chest. “Not at all.”

“Tch. You should be scared of me, dumbass.” He turned your body so that you were facing him, shielding his tomato-hued face from your gaze.

“And why should I be?”

“Because…because…I’m Bakugou Katsuki, dammit!” He clenched his fists, bunching up your parka.

Snickering, you decided to tease him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I thought you were Midoriya Izuku for a second.”

“You WHAT?!?”

The two of you bantered playfully all the way to Recovery Girl’s office. She took one look at you and frowned.

“Tsk. I thought there wasn’t training today?” She rifled around for an ice pack.

“There wasn’t. We played a game and I just sprained my ankle.” You explained sheepishly. “And possibly my wrist.”

Recovery Girl tapped her cane on your knee and sighed heavily. “You guys don’t know how to take care of yourselves! Playing a game and getting injured?” She rubbed her temples. “The hospitals are going to have a field day with the lot of you once you become pros.”

“Sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” You held in a wince as she prodded your ankle.

“Minor sprains. I’m going to wrap those and give you some gummies. Take this ice pack with you when you go. Ice for 10, leave for 20, and repeat for 3 hours. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” You held out your wrist for her to bind.

“And don’t you go do anything else dangerous now, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear!” You hopped nimbly off the table, landing on one leg, and was promptly scooped up again by Bakugou.

“Hey! Let me down! I can walk!” You protested against his arms.

Bakugou turned to Recovery Girl. “Look at her. You really want her to walk?”

“As a matter of fact, I do not. Stay still, young lady, and let him carry you,” she admonished.

You slumped in defeat, and Bakugou carried you out of the room.

“Ahh…young love,” Recovery Girl stared wistfully at your fading silhouettes. “I remember…”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!!”

The class was situated in the common room, spread out over the numerous couches and munching on fresh cookies (courtesy of Momo and Sato).

And as the clock chimed 12, you looked to Bakugou, sitting right next to you.

“Can…can I…” You started nervously, fingers fidgeting with your ice pack.

“What? Spit it out,” Bakugou stared at you.

“Canikissyou?” You blurted out as fast as your tongue would let you.

He smirked. “What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

You sighed. “Would…would you mind if I kissed you?”

Bakugou’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin. “All you had to do was ask, dumbass.”

Epilogue

“Do you think they caught on?” Mina whispered excitedly to Sero. “I wasn’t sure if they saw me leading Todoroki and Midoriya to the ball.”

“Nah, I think we’re fine. Besides, it’s not like he can complain. He got a girlfriend thanks to us, right?” Sero chuckled.

“Ok…if you say so…”

Suddenly, they heard a growl coming from the doorway to their left.

“Shit.”

“Run!!”

“I won’t let you bastards get away with this!!”

Coco’s New Year Celebration 20-21

Masterlist

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bleachbleachbleach · 3 years

Text

Fic: Away, Away

This was written for Day 13 of @hitsuhina-week! If you prefer, you can also read this on AO3. Which is my preference, because Tumblr keeps eating my spacing whether I use Rich Text or HTML so it looks absurd on here. >.>

Aftermath / Going on a Trip Together Hinamori Momo + Hitsugaya Toushirou Pre-Series

This will be the last time.

(Whisper it, so he won't hear.)

Every spring, Junrinan finds its way to the western mountains. (The souls of Rukongai wander.) There is no grand procession: They disperse across the vast range, often alone and sometimes in twos. They are always careful not to cause disruption, because while one soul in a forest full of spirits generally isn't worth the effort, seven is a meal.

They are three.

Soon, they will be two. Hinamori can't stop whispering her new name, hi na mo ri. It's early to be out here, but the snows were mild this year and new growth is already peeking from beneath the thick, rich leaf rot. She feels an affinity with this year's tender saplings, a feeling that grows hotter with every whispered repetition of her name. Her grandmother had given it to her, showed her how to write it. She'd studied her name harder than she had the exam.

Hinamori has an acceptance letter. In April, she is leaving.

Hinamori nearly walks straight into a nettle spirit--the hair-eating kind--draped across the game path plain as day.

"Do you wanna be bald?" Toushirou grouses as he yanks her back just in time. "I guess it fits. You're acting like a blind old man."

Hinamori blinks, brushes imagined hair from her face. It's the fifth time she's tried to walk straight through a spirit in as many days.

"Studying is bad for your eyes," says Toushirou. He doesn't care for moony Hinamori. Momo had paid a lot more attention to what was in front of her. But she's Hinamori now. At least, that's the only name she'll write, dragging her thin stick through the dirt outside the house. So that's what he calls her.

Toushirou squeezes through a bumble of pot-bellied mushroom spirits and Hinamori follows him, stepping carefully into his tracks.

"You'll need to keep reading even when I'm not around. It'll go if you don't practice," she says.

Toushirou makes a noncommittal sound.

"I'll send you letters full of kanji and quiz you on them when I visit." I'll learn how to write them pretty, she promises, just like Baachan does.

"Will you write me back?" she asks.

"Probably not."

This hurts her. But Toushirou plans to go the rest of his life without writing a single thing. It's not personal.

"Why would I need to tell you what happens in Junrinan?" he says. "You already know."

And if I forget?

Life in Junrinan doesn't change. That's what Toushirou was promised. The winters are quiet and slow, and in spring they go to the mountains. Summers are for farming, and autumns for harvest. Then winters are quiet and slow again.

Spring passes with bracken and angelica in hand. It is counted in the spirals of ferns as their number grows in the baskets. Some are dried; some are steeped. Mostly, they are sold. Many of the men in Junrinan spend springtime waking before dawn to sprint to the mountain, forage the lowlands, and return to the village for evening revelries, but Toushirou and Hinamori and their grandmother have always spent the whole of the season between the trees. The mountains prefer it when you stay.

This will be true no matter how long Hinamori is gone.

April 12th through July 20th, then our first break, she says, scratching numbers in the dirt. But Junrinan doesn't have dates the way the Academy does. She draws the way the trees will change. The change happens in a long straight line, and beyond July 20th there is an emptiness rather than a repetition. How do you draw an unwritten future?

Hinamori writes her name again.

In the spring, everything is full: Toushirou enjoys the wet green of it, the late snows and vernal flooding. The water flows down from the mountains ice cold and the forests are loud and thick with spirits.

The spirits have no names that are written and no faces that have ever stayed the same, unremembered but immemorial. They are loud. Most of them respect the borders of his body. They brush against his legs with thick wet fur or scrape his cheek with leathery wings. They coil around his throat, treating him like a tree or rock. Some of them are trees and rocks. They are the mountains and forest, just like the wandering souls of Junrinan. They all belong here, more or less.

Toushirou can see most of them. When the blurry ones pass through you, it's feverishly unpleasant for the split-second it happens and then is nothing at all. The blurry ones, Toushirou figures, aren't actually in this forest. They are like shadows at sunset, cast long and far from their bodies. Their true bodies roam a different world entirely.

That's what Hinamori wants to do.

Hinamori used to clamor for shinigami stories any time one of them passed through town. She'd been told one time that all travelers carried stories and now expected it.

The shinigami never expected her. Unless commerce was involved they didn't tend to acknowledge souls, or even look at them. So they always seemed surprised by Hinamori, like it hadn't occurred to them that they'd meet a real, full person out here. Which is fair enough, Toushirou grudgingly allows--there are plenty of souls in Junrinan so old and staid they cannot move, nor speak. (Don't touch them. It's unlucky.)

We don't talk about those.

The shinigami talk story: The story of black dye. The story of a tall bathhouse. The story of grilled meat on sticks. The story of the time they saw a noble. The story of a big fish. The story of a bigger fish. The story of the bullet train. The story of my sister, who isn't very interesting but is the only thing that comes to mind right now sorry. The story of 19th seats should be paid more. The story of the soul who wanted a story.

Almost none of the stories are about death.

"Little girls shouldn't go into those mountains," one shinigami once said, which is as close as a story ever came to it. "Nasty stuff in there. They're called Hollows, you know. Real bad guys."

The shinigami patted the sword at his hip. He'd just told Hinamori a story about the third son of a lesser noble whom everyone loved and thought deserved better than the shadows of his elder brothers. And how preposterous is it, really, that he should have to prove himself when his brothers never did? Pushed out here into the boonies, seeking honor and fame. He really feels for the guy. Don't you? Don't you?

"You seem to know a lot about 'this guy,'" Toushirou offered.

"I'm a master storyteller," said the shinigami.

I've killed a Hollow before, you know, boasted the master storyteller. He'd led a unit of twelve men into those mountains out there, which were so quiet you could hear your own heart beating. When you can hear your terror--that's when you're on the cusp of valor. His eyes lit up. I was the one who cut the mask, he said.

Twelve is obviously far too many (seven is a meal), and those mountains have never been quiet. Toushirou didn't think he'd really been.

In the spring, though, there's a dark scar where once there'd been a copse of trees. Shattered branches and burned ground. His grandmother says it smells like Hollow.

"They see things differently," his grandmother half-explains, of the shinigami and their Hollows and the silence of their mountains. Of course this would seem a different place to them.

"They're idiots," says Toushirou, though suddenly he's not sure. The scar is hair-raising, and his stomach roils. Maybe they really shouldn't be out in the woods.

"The shinigami know more than you," says Hinamori, taking his hand in hers. She grips it tightly, reassuring, or maybe annoyed. Both. She has a lot of school spirit for someone who hasn't even been yet.

But she doesn't let go of his hand, even after they've returned to the cover of the live trees, kitsune fire nestled in the brambles at their feet.

Toushirou makes the mistake of noticing a spirit that tends to linger just out of sight. It feeds on your instinct to look, and it grows higher and higher the more you crane your neck, so sure you'll be able to sneak a glimpse of it. By the time you realize the trick, you've always been had. It's very annoying.

This will be the last time.

(Scream it.)

"It's so dark out here," says Hinamori, in spite of the kitsune and all the rest. Lots of spirits glow. She is still holding his hand.

Toushirou thinks of the small lamp Hinamori had bought to study by, the wild shadows it cast on the interior walls and the way it had made all hours bright. He thinks of all the hours she hadn't slept. All because some shinigami had told her a story about a school.

Anything would seem dark by comparison. He can't remember the last time she hadn't had her lamp on when he went to bed.

Hinamori is going to snap the bones in his hand. He yelps. Tears prick in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

She doesn't let go, and then she doesn't let go.

"It's so quiet," she says faintly. Her free hand wavers over her heart protectively.

It's so dark. It's so quiet. Quiet enough to hear your terror.

Except it's not. It's not dark.

It's not quiet.

The forest is full, air thick with chirrups and buzzing, screeching, hooting, chittering. Bodies clack and bones shudder. Reeds whistle and something large makes a whomping, resonating tone. Foxfire hisses as it makes sparks, throws phosphorous motes that dance high above. A heartbeat glow marches up the ridged spine of a lizard spirit. The forest is as it has always been.

Toushirou's eyes widen.

"You can't hear them anymore."

To Hinamori, it is all darkness and silence.

She sinks to the ground, burying her head in her knees as though to hide from the quiet. From the black. She drops his hand.

"Momo--"

She shakes her head. She opens her hands to the sky like she's waiting for a bird to land. For a split second, a small warm flame billows from her palms.

Then the entire forest catches.

The thought had been innocent enough--to be her own light in the darkness, conquer her fear. But the forest only hears the conquering. It's the kitsune who don't take kindly to Hinamori's light. Their fire screeches up and outward and then all the spirits are in frenzy. A meal! scream some; and others, a threat! A danger to be expunged. A strange thing not of this forest, these mountains.

Outsider! the world around them hisses. Away.

away, away

Hinamori screams as the flames leap forward--the claws, the vines, the terrors and all in between. She throws herself in front of Toushirou.

Toushirou can't find his voice at all. The wide whites of his eyes feel the propulsive gust of the forest coming down on them. On Hinamori. No! he can't shout, cold fear coiling over his frozen legs and pricking at his shoulder blades. Something serpentine rushes past him and he's on the ground. His head smacks hard against a writhing tree root and he tastes bile, feels nothing.

Hears everything.

away

When he wakes, snow is falling, wet and sloppy. Kitsune are nibbling at the singed edges of a hanafuda. Hinamori is in her grandmother's arms. She's crying.

Before Hinamori started studying, with her bright lamp and her long nights and her feverish poetry scratched into the ground, before the hunger came, she'd woken one morning to a futon streaked with her blood. Her grandmother said that this was womanhood.

"The tea will stop the bleeding," she assured a tearful Hinamori as they scrubbed at her futon, pinking the waters. Toushirou beat at the stain with his feet, splashing everywhere.

"You don't have to touch it," Hinamori had said quietly, her eyes fixed on the water. "It's my mess."

"Baachan said I have to help," Toushirou objected. "Besides, am I supposed to just sit here and watch you bleed?"

Just one last time.

Hinamori isn't hurt, but she is in pain. The forest doesn't want her anymore. (She is leaving.)

"The forest sees them differently," his grandmother says, the other half of her earlier explanation. "Them," meaning shinigami. "Them," meaning Hinamori, now.

Shinigami see and are seen differently. They belong differently. Toushirou had only ever distinguished them by their black clothes, and sometimes their attitude. But his grandmother talks about reiryoku, about reiatsu, about the realms the shinigami travel through and the spirits they are blind to. The spirits that belong to different worlds than theirs, even when they're side by side. Some worlds are bound to one another, tied by fate and duty; others are repelled.

As Hinamori's reiatsu blossomed with her womanhood, slowly folding outward past her skin, beyond her body, her worlds were chosen for her. Like the bleeding, there's a tea to help this, too, but it's not the same.

There is no going back.

"What're you looking at," Toushirou scowls at her. He's not sure what to do with her pain. There's nothing he can do for her pain. But she's looking at him differently, a little less like Hinamori and a little more like the rest of Junrinan does, and that scares him.

She asks him if he'd felt anything. Something cold.

She's asked him before. Every day since the incident, she's asked him.

His answer is always the same. No. Just fear.

He should be helping his grandmother. They're here in the forest for a reason, and that hasn't changed; they have foraging to do. But he doesn't want to leave Hinamori alone.

"Don't be afraid of it, Shiro-chan," says Hinamori. Hinamori, who's now afraid of the dark.

Hinamori, who is leaving.

She doesn't have a choice. When her power comes into her she knows there is only one place she can go. It's a place she has always wanted to go. (She has always wanted to go places.) But now she has to.

She smiles.

If she is going to go, she's going to fly. She will love, and yearn, and cry. She will give all of herself to the future before her, even when it means that precious things can be only memory. If there is something Hinamori leaves in him when she goes, it's flight.

Someday, Toushirou will remember to remember that.

"Will you write me?" she asks.

(You will be written.)

She returns for the summer, then is gone again. Winter, then gone again. But she doesn't come home for the spring. They'll be going to the realm of the living. They will fight Hollows, just like the Gotei 13. She explains the meaning and stroke order of the characters, go tei, though she doesn't explain what the Gotei 13 actually is. That part must already seem obvious to her. Shinigami stuff. That's all Toushirou will ever need to know. Seems pretentious.

When Junrinan returns to the mountains this year, Toushirou and his grandmother stay behind. "It's dangerous," she says. She squeezes his shoulders.

It's dangerous now.

There is no going back.

Junrinan may not change, but life does, and by the second summer, Hinamori has mostly forgotten the shapes of the forest spirits. Toushirou is forgetting them, too.

The difference is, Hinamori has found replacements. She talks about incantations and sword stances, friendships and histories. She has been to the realm of the living. It's only been a year, and already they have nothing in common but their memories, ever-receding.

Sometimes she wakes up screaming. She doesn't say why.

Toushirou dreams of a chill ripping through him. He dreams of a place where there are no mountains as far as the eye can see.

He wakes to Hinamori.

#hinamori momo #hitsugaya toushirou #hitsuhina week #bleach fic #IT'S FOR THE CULTURE #I wanted to play with the idea of the districts of Rukongai having their own cultures and practices apart from what we know of the Seireitei #I thought it would be interesting to imagine that it's because these things are not legible/perceivable to our shinigami narrators #because their existence is tied more closely to other worlds and realms #So just like there are things that humans can't see wandering their world there are things that shinigami can't see either #👻👻👻👻👻👻#yes this is the angery fic that hates me but its deadline is today so now it is done!

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Okay, onto my liveblog for chapter two of The Hunger Games :

Katniss’ flashback to falling out of a tree and being unable to breathe is such a good analogy, I steal it all the time in my own fics.

I wish the boy who held her up so she didn’t fall was given a name? Katniss just can’t provide names very easily, can she? 😅

“The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn’t mattered” is actually an amazing quotable moment, someone make an edit pronto 👏

No one’s happy when a twelve year old is chosen but ya know. As soon as that kid turns thirteen, off with them! Fair game! 😭😂😅🙃

Hmmm how many of these kids knew immediately Katniss would volunteer for her sister? The way there was a boy ready to catch her before she fell and the way they all just cleared a path for her...

Katniss’ love for Prim had to be prominent because the other kids all seemed to be aware she would volunteer and Katniss claims this is a completely radical, unheard of thing to do. Sooo yeah. Her school peers probably noticed her a lot more than she realized.

Ooo. I just noticed the word choice in “district twelve hasn’t had a volunteer in decades”

Was there a point in time when Twelve had volunteers?

Awww the mayor being sad that Katniss is probably gonna die because he knows her as Madge’s friend 😭😩🤧.

Awww Katniss got presented a medal when her father died, I forgot 🥺🥺🥺

“Bet my buttons” is the worst phrase in history 🤨😐🤭

I like that Katniss’ dead father still has a reputation around these parts 🤧

Helps my fic writing brain to clock it for future reference

Maybe I’m just not nice but I don’t see how Prim is so wonderful that no one can help but love her. Like idk. I feel like this is just Katniss’ bias leaking through. Which is fine it’s better than some clinically detached narrator I hate those FYI

Omg everyone is saluting Katniss and she’s realizing people adore her 🥰🥰

Also ... does this mean Peeta did the three finger salute to her just before being called himself? Idk random thoughts, ignore me.

Katniss is in danger of crying. If this was me, I’d just be sobbing on the ground already.

Haymitch , the og rebel. Looking right into the cameras and calling the Capitol out.

Also ironic how the first thing Haymitch says to / about Katniss is “I like her!” when he spends the rest of the series pretending he, in fact, does not.

“Oh no, not him” is such a love interest introduction, y’all. Gale never stood a chance.

I like how Katniss considers it bad luck for her that Peeta was called 😅. Like... already taking ownership of the boy, sweetheart?

I feel like this is a good time to remind people that medium height is like 5’10. Stop headcanoning Peeta short. Poor Joshy though.

I like how she has never spoken to Peeta but describes the way his hair falls in waves over his forehead 😭🤧

Seems like Katniss thinks Peeta took being called relatively well.

“He has two older brothers, I know, I’ve seen them in the bakery” why is she already trying to defend herself to the audience like “I wasn’t really paying any attention to Peeta Mellark I just happened to notice he had brothers because I saw them once okay?”

Omg Katniss just outright asserting that Peeta’s middle brother definitively won’t volunteer for him. Girl, you just said you don’t know him or his family 😅😅😅.

“Why him?” Still has such a destined, soulmates feel to it. I know they weren’t destined and that’s what a lot of people admire about their relationship but the writing here has always had such a “this guy right here is her soulmate” slant to it, I’m sorry.

“He’s probably forgotten our only interaction. But I haven’t. And I know I never will.” Still continuing with the soulmate-y narration here, Suz Suz, I see.

Oh my god I don’t even remember this line but it’s so sad 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩😩

“The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs. ‘Where are you?’ I would cry out in my mind. ‘Where have you gone?’”

I’m so sad now. 😭😭😭

I like that Katniss said “no amount of pleading from Prim” would affect her mother’s depression, as if Katniss easily believes that her own pleas don’t matter but her sister’s are what’s impossible to ignore.

She really needs to stop putting Primmy on this pedestal though it’s not as cute the second or third read around.

“I suppose now that my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well.” I feel like this is just criminally undiscussed. Katniss didn’t know or understand or grasp what depression even was. Like it’s hard enough for kids to forgive parents who abandon them to mental illness when they’re aware what mental illness is. Let alone if you’re just stuck for months / years, not knowing that your mother was sick, instead thinking she just stopped caring for you.

Omg Katniss saying she couldn’t let Prim go to a community home 🤧. Selfless of her. But also sister worry about yourself.

I’m just kidding, I know it’s her character to only be concerned with her little sister above all else.

Mr. Everdeen hating how coal dust settled on everything in the Seam is such a small but interesting detail.

Omg so the meadow is a common place to find corpses of those who starved to death? We maybe should stop romanticizing it.

I like that Mr. Everdeen took Katniss places with him but was like “Hmm, imma leave Prim home, she isn’t cut out for the hunting life”

Idk Katniss being too afraid and shy to go to the Hob without her dad is such a little kid thing though.

Katniss explaining that she was essentially in the merchants backyard

She was essentially dying in Peeta’s backyard 🤧

Wow, I forgot how blatantly violent Peeta’s mother was

Maybe it’s just Katniss’ perspective but every interaction is just her screaming

Aww, his mother called him a stupid creature, why don’t I remember this.

This is so sad omg.

Poor both of them.

One’s starving to death, the other’s utterly abused mentally, verbally and physically.

What’s a weal?

I always read that word as a welt.

Ok I googled it, it’s a big red swollen mark.

So same thing.

Omg now Katniss is saying Mrs. Mellark hit him with an object weapon. This just keeps getting more and more.... sad.

Honestly I haven’t read the books cover to cover since I was a teenager, some of this is a surprise to me.

I always wondered though how that bread was any good, it literally fell onto the wet ground. 😟🤢

Aww, Katniss saying Peeta would get a full beat down if discovered that he burned the breads to feed her 🥵🥵🥵

Okay but if his mother hit him with an object and his eye swoll up and blackened the next day, that could be another reason why he tossed the bread in her general direction and didn’t look at her. I know it was so he wouldn’t be caught by his mother but also he probably couldn’t even see clearly where she was.

The dandelion symbolism 🤧😅😭🥳

Her sarcasm 🤣🤣🤣

Katniss just keeps comparing Peeta to the loaves of bread 😅😅😅

Also she keeps calling him warm and solid and steady

I’m starting to think unconsciously she was already finding herself attracted to him even here.

Him squeezing her hand reassuringly and her chalking it up to a nervous spasm 🙃

I hope when they got married they got a nice screencap of this shot of them on TV facing the crowd, shaking hands.

Make a nice anniversary photo.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter two! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

#thgagain #also yes I used a Jen gif leave me be

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

Dean Winchester: Stamps

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Daddy!Dean x Male!Son!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Father and son interaction, Dean being a dad

Summary: For a cool summer activity to keep Y/n busy Dean shows him the stamp collection books passed down to generation.

Word Count: 542

A/N- Based on a personal family experience I wasn't a part of the experience. Also, I have no knowledge about collecting stamps or any knowledge about stamps in general. So if I'm off by something I'm sincerely sorry for that in advance. This is short but it was too hard not to write.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist- @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @hit-meup69 @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester

"Dad you said this was gonna be fun!" I said. Huffing as I threw my Xbox control onto my bed. "It will be fun Y/n, just give me the benefit of doubt. Your old man here has a lot of fun tricks up his sleeve." My dad said.

It was the start of the summer. My summer my last summer before my senior year in high school. My dad has always been there for me. No matter what, but in this little bit of time.

I just wanted to lay in my bed and play games, chat with girls from my high school. I had spent the past year getting ready for my last year in high school, getting ready for adulthood.

"Dad, all I want to do is relax. You know that I had five AP classes this year right?" I asked walking out into the living room with him and grabbing my sneakers.

"Yes, I do know that in fact, but please. I'll leave you alone afterward. And here I'll lift you curfew to twelve, midnight." He said offering me a deal was how dad and always got me to do things with him. Since I was a young kid in middle school.

"Deal dad. Now show me this stamp collection thing you were talking about." I said walking over to the sofa in the living room. He plopped down next to me. A rather loud huff coming him.

Pulling the chunky book from his grasp he placing it on the glass coffee table in front of both of us.

"This was my grandfathers, my dads, then it was mine, and now I am sort of gifting it to you. Y'know to keep the tradition going." Dad said. Getting bored quicker and easier than I thought was possible. "Wow, that's so cool."

All I want to do is walk away from him and go back to playing my games. "Please, Y/n just do this one thing with your dad." He said, tugging at my heartstrings. Doing that puppy eye thing I see uncle Sam do with his wife Ruby.

"Okay, let's get into it them, dad," I said being nicer and acting more into the current project in front of me. Dad took me through the whole book. Telling me that I needed to write my name at the top and the date I started using the book which was today.

"See, son. Later on, I'll teach you the cool trick for getting the glue off the back of the stamps and we can put them in here, start off your collection strong." He said smiling wide.

"Yeah dad, I'd like that," I said patting his shoulder and taking the book with me. Listening to dad I had realized that this huge book to him was just as important to him as I was. Almost four-generation using this book to collect stamps.

Who knows maybe this will be a cool summer fixation instead of my Xbox. "You know you're awesome right?" I heard my dad yell as I walked down the hall, I turned around giving him a look he most definitely recognized, "Yeah, I'm awesome Dad!" I said smiling and turning back to go to my room.

Completed on: 04/24/2021

#daddy dean #son!reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean and his son #cute moment #fluff #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #fanfic #also on ao3 #writing #dean fluff #shorts

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