#fix everything that i was unfortunately willing to take that risk. and guess what! it fucked me over in the end who would've guessed lmao

[burst-of-iridescent]

Oh, thank you, my day is good, but after your message it got even better! I really found solace on Tumblr, which I could not find either in these terrible comics or in LOTR. To be honest, I hardly mastered the latter at all, literally forcing myself to watch series after series, searching in vain for the former depth of characters and conflict. In my opinion, LOTR is a complete failure on all fronts, with the exception of high-quality drawing. If it's about comics, it's an illogical development of events, which, unfortunately, is laid down in the last series. I wanted to ask you -how do you feel about Ursa's line? I was offended by her decision to leave the children (of course, it happened against her will, but still -to change her face and personality, forget about her beloved son and lead a happy life with an old lover?! Don't get it wrong, a woman should suffer for the rest of her days because of a failed marriage, she should not give up happiness if fate sends. But in the context of this story, in your opinion, does it not look like a betrayal, first of all of herself (Ursa?), and of course her children. She couldn't help but understand what kind of hell they got into, first of all the son, after her disappearance. And if you also disagree with this "canon", what would you see the fate of Zuko and Azula's mother? (sorry for such a long letter!)

hi again! thank you, you're so sweet!

i 100% feel you on both LOK (i'm guessing LOTR is a typo?) and the comics. it's so disappointing because both the show and the comics have some great conceptual ideas, and in the hands of competent writers, could've been excellent continuations of ATLA and worthwhile successors... but instead we got a flaming pile of garbage that deserves to be at the bottom of the sea.

the search isn't the worst atla comic imo (that honour goes to the promise) but it's definitely doing its damn best to earn that spot. i hate so many things about that comic: the outdated, insulting depictions of mental illness and mental healthcare in azula's story, zuko getting a "replacement sister" in kiyi as a fix-it bandaid, the fact that it becomes a whole gaang adventure when the correct narrative choice would've been for zuko and katara (and maybe azula at most) to take this trip together as a full circle from the southern raiders, katara and sokka's only role in the story being to foil zuko and azula and nothing else, and of course... the complete annihilation of everything ursa's character was set up to be in atla.

i agree with you that it is very much a betrayal of ursa's character for her to willingly lose her memories. she knows she's leaving her children in the hands of a dangerous abuser, one who's already molding her daughter into a lethal weapon and was fully ready to murder her son, who has proven his willingness to sacrifice his children without hesitation if it benefits him. but despite this, despite the fact that she committed murder, accepted exile and even risked her life (for she had no way of knowing if ozai would simply let her leave peacefully) to protect her child... suddenly she's willing to throw all of that away and fuck off with her childhood lover at the first opportunity?

it baffles me why bryke didn't at least make ursa's memory loss an accident, which would've both explained her absence and why she never went to look for her children without committing character assassination in the process - but that's probably expecting too much logical writing from those two.

i'm actually planning a post-canon book 4 zutara fic that would include a rewrite of the search, where ursa didn't just fuck off to do nothing, but actually had a redemption arc very similar to zuko's after secretly fleeing to live in the earth kingdom and seeing the damage the war had done. she takes it upon herself to right the fire nation's wrongs, and grows particularly invested in air nomad culture, seeing it as her duty to try and bring back some of what the genocide had destroyed. shortly before zuko's banishment she sets out to find the remnants of a people long believed to be gone - and finds that maybe they're not entirely gone after all.

i won't spoil the rest, but i think it'll both explain why ursa never went back for zuko and azula while still giving her a meaningful story that didn't involve just swapping one family for another. if only we'd gotten something similar in the comics but alas... bryke gonna bryke.

thanks for the ask! no worries about it being long, i thoroughly enjoy reading your thoughts <3

#anti atla comics #anti the search #anti bryke #zutara #asks

[dragonsareourfuture]

Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

L

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

#death note #death note x reader #x reader #x reader headcanons #l death note #l lawliet #l Lawliet x reader #l x reader #Misa amane #misa amane x reader #touta matsuda x reader #touta matsuda #Mello x reader #mihael keehl x reader #mihael keehl #death note mello #near x reader #near death note #Nate river #nate river x reader #Mail jeevas #mail jeevas x reader #death note matt #matt x reader

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

#bnha 325 #midoriya izuku #u.a. clown mob #class 1-a #aizawa shouta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[scuttling]

All I Have To Give

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,096 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Collar & leash, Oral sex, Deep throating, Restraints, Fingering, Cockwarming, Spanking, Unprotected sex, Come marking, Subspace, Subdrop, Aftercare Summary: A difficult case brings complex emotions, and Aaron is willing to do anything to help the woman he loves process them. *Prompted by @ssamorganhotchner and @angelhotchner and this Link to AO3 or read below! Even after all of his time at the BAU, Aaron knows he hasn’t seen it all, or even close to it—it seems like the atrocities just get worse every year, that humans never fail to find a new way to hurt one another, and that makes him and everyone else on the team constantly question everything they know. He’d like to say it gets easier, but it really doesn’t; you just find new ways to lean on your partners, new ways to cope with the horrors and indecencies the world has to offer.

The case they are currently working on is hitting one profiler especially hard, and because Aaron happens to be in love with her, it’s hitting him hard as well.

“I just can’t imagine waking up one morning and thinking you have your whole life ahead of you, and then some asshole decides he likes the way you look and wants to turn you into his property,” she murmurs that night when they are laying together in the hotel room they share. She had been so strong all day, as always, and then all but collapsed into tears the second the door was closed behind them. “It’s disgusting.”

“I know, baby; cases like these are some of the worst.” He rubs her back with strong hands, pulls her close to his chest. “What can I do for you? I hate to see you like this.” She sniffles, brushes a hand over her eyes, shakes her head.

“I don’t think there’s anything right now. Just being here with me like this, and talking to me, it’s helping. Thank you.” He sighs, because he knows when she gets this upset just talking it out isn’t usually enough, but he has to follow her lead; he just leans in to press his lips to hers, gentle and sweet, and she curls her fingers into his t-shirt and falls asleep with her head against his chest.

The next day, they apprehend the unsub after a standoff; unfortunately, he’d killed the girls when he heard on the police scanner that law enforcement was approaching—all twelve of them. She is the one to find them, and she gets sick, a first in her five years at the BAU. Aaron goes to her side, brings some water for her; her eyes are haunted when she looks up at him.

“Branded,” she croaks, and he doesn’t understand at first, until he looks more closely at the pile of bodies and sees the marks seared into their hips: DM—the unsub’s initials. He exhales deeply, and she turns around and gets sick again.

They take him back to the precinct, try to get a DNA sample, but he won’t agree until his lawyer is present; his story is that his property has been unoccupied for some time, and that he had no idea the girls were being held there, or by whom.

Aaron knows he shouldn’t let her interrogate him. He knows that, but she pleads, and that is something he’s always been unable to resist.

“Branding, huh? Are you that insecure—that worried that the women you called your property wanted nothing to do with you?” she asks, standing with her arms crossed.

“Do you mean my herd? I didn’t just call them my property, honey. They were my property. I owned them. The brands are for everyone else, not for me.” She slams her hands down on the table, sweeps them over the photos she’d laid out in front of him, and they go fluttering to the ground. He can’t see her face, but he knows from her tone that her jaw is clenched, her eyes ablaze.

“You did not own them. Ownership is granted, not taken, you pathetic excuse for a man.” He flexes his hands against the cuffs fixed to the table but says nothing. “You are so powerless that this is the only way you can get it up, isn’t it? By stealing women from their families, their lives, and pretending they’re yours.”

“They are mine!” he shouts, but then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “I took… the herd, from their meaningless, mundane lives, I brought them home, I gave them purpose. Being my property gave them value they didn’t have before.”

“And then you killed them, so what’s the value now? How dumb do you look?” She gets right up in his face, and hateful, misogynistic poison glints in his eyes, shows through the calm facade he tries so desperately to project. “It’s like burning your own house down, isn’t it? Only there’s no insurance money to collect here, Darren. All that’s left is your stupid ass and a pile of bodies with your fucking name on them.”

“Don’t call me stupid,” he mutters, and she drums her fingers on the tabletop, almost thoughtfully.

“What would you call it? Risking everything to abduct twelve women only to turn around and kill them so they can’t tell us what a pitiful human being you are?” She leans in closer, and he turns his neck to face away from her, like he’s trying to ignore her. “But the thing is, I don’t need them to tell me,” she whispers. “I know you were a disappointment to your father, a disgrace to your mother. I know the disgusting, depraved things you did to your sister, and now the whole world’s going to know. I’m going to tell everyone.”

Aaron can see the change in him from where he stands on the other side of the glass, and he glances at Morgan, then makes for the door. He’s just gotten it open when the man pulls back and spits on her cheek; she freezes, then reaches up, wipes it off, calm and collected, and grabs his jaw with the hand not covered in saliva.

“Guess what, Darren? You’re my property, now. Your ass belongs to the US Government, and I’m going to personally ensure you never see the light of day again.” She holds her hand up—covered in DNA evidence—and walks past Aaron, out the door. She is unusually quiet on the flight back to DC despite the successful interrogation, pensive and solitary; even on the ride from the airport back home she just leans toward him, silent, hand resting on his thigh, her eyes unfocused.

He knows how hard this case hit her, can only hope that she will open up to him when they get home so he can give her what she needs to get through it. He will do anything, just needs to hear it from her.

“Why don’t we take a bath?” he says softly when they get home, dropping their bags in the laundry room, and he brushes a hand over her cheek. “We can soak the day away, and then maybe if you’re feeling better we can talk about what I can do to help.”

She looks up at him, nods, and they rid each other of their clothes and he draws them a bath, hot and foamy with calming aromatherapy oils she enjoys. She lays along his body, curled up, head on his chest, and he holds her close, massages the back of her neck and her shoulders with gentle fingers.

When they get out and dry off, she heads for her closet, returns with a box as tall as a thick book, a little less wide; she sets it on the bed, perches next to it, and looks up at him with expectant eyes.

“What’s this, baby?” he asks, approaching, and he kneels down, puts his arm around her and sets a hand on the box. “Is it for me?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s for you to put on me. I bought it a few weeks ago, but I… I need it now.” He lifts the lid, pulls out what he thinks at first is a wrist cuff but is actually a thick leather collar, with two metal rings attached to the front, and a… a leash. It’s made of metal chain, not long, with a leather loop to hold, and to say he’s caught off guard by this gift would be an understatement.

“You want me to put this on you? Can I ask why?” She moves toward him, puts her hands on the collar too, looks up at him with wide, wet eyes.

“Because I’m not my own person. You own me.” She tilts her neck, bares it, clearly waiting for him to put it on her, but what she’s saying doesn’t sit right with him, too many parallels to the case that made her so physically and mentally unwell.

“Baby, you are your own person. I love you for exactly who you are, and I would never try to own you, to take who you are away from you.” He presses his palm to her cheek, and she leans into it, kisses it with soft, gentle lips.

“It’s not you taking, daddy, it’s me giving. I need to give this to you—it’s the most important thing I have, and I need you to let me give this to you.” He exhales deeply, still not sold on the idea; she may think she wants this in the moment, feeling low as she is, but, what if she changes her mind? What if she no longer trusts his judgement because he plays into this when she’s not at her most clear-headed?

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking into her eyes, checking them for hesitation, but she only nods; he moves his hand from her cheek, gently pulls the collar out of her grip and brings it to her throat, buckles it at the nape of her neck. She sighs, something like relief when he leans back; she wets her lips, and her eyes are heavy.

“You own me, daddy. I’m yours, see?” She tilts her neck again, but all he sees is that it’s tight against her skin, maybe uncomfortably so. He frowns.

“Is it too tight? It looks too tight. I think we should take it off; maybe we can try again another night, when you didn’t have such a hard day.” He moves his hands to the back of her neck, wants to unbuckle it, but she gets upset almost instantly, looking down at her empty hands like they’re causing her pain. He covers them with his own, shushes her softly. “Oh, what is it, sweet girl? Daddy’s right here, it’s okay.”

“I just wanted to please you, daddy. Your name is on me, and I thought you would like it, but if you don’t want me this way…” That makes him pause, and he brings her hands to his lips, kisses them.

“What do you mean, my name is on you? What does that mean, baby?” She pulls her hand out of his, moves her hair out of the way, and then he sees it: his initials, AH, embossed on the collar in silver script.

God, it’s no wonder she had such a visceral reaction to the branding. And it’s no wonder she is stressing wanting to give this to him, when the other women had their choices taken from them. She has a choice, and she’s making it, and all he has to do is accept the gift she’s trying so hard to give to him.

“Please, daddy. I need to give this to you,” she murmurs, further solidifying what he now knows, and he wraps the chain around his hand, pulls it tight, tugs her close for a kiss.

The easy way the tension leaves her body at the possessive gesture makes him groan, and he kisses her so long and hard that—between the kissing and the collar—she is already in subspace when he pulls back to let them catch their breath.

“You’re mine, baby girl; my name is on you. I own you.” She pants, nods, puts her hands on his shoulders and looks into his eyes, so grateful, beautiful.

“Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy. I’m yours so tell me what to do and I’ll do it, anything. Please.” He kisses her again, then climbs onto the bed, loosens his grip on the chain a bit and pulls her with him as he lays back against the pillows. Her gaze is warm, brilliant, and he guides her to kneel between his legs, drops the leash and takes the black hair tie off of her wrist to sweep her hair back into a ponytail. It’s by no means perfect, but she likes when he does it, knows what it means; she’s already staring at his cock, and he’s willing to bet her mouth is watering in anticipation.

“I want you to suck for me, sweet girl. Owned girl.” Her eyelashes flutter and she wets her lips, nods enthusiastically. She wraps one hand around his cock, presses the other against his thigh, and he picks up the chain again, tightens it as she drops to cover him with her mouth.

She starts with short, wet, slow strokes, looking up at him through her pretty lashes, and he’s reduced to just his love for her and his need to come, as always when she does this for him. He moans softly, reaches down a hand to squeeze her breast, to give her some contact and pleasure, and she whines, moves a little faster.

He wasn’t planning to come this way, but he can think of plenty of ways to keep her occupied and feeling good while he recovers, so he wraps the chain around his hand one more time, guides her down, so she’ll take him deeper. She can do it, has been trained at her own request, because almost nothing makes her wetter than having her mouth full of his cock.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for daddy. Can I come down your throat, baby? Can you take it?” She nods, bobs, and he yanks the chain just to see what she will do.

It turns her into a bit of a feral little monster, humping her hips against nothing, digging her nails into his thigh, doubling down on her efforts to make him come, and he just tips his head back and enjoys it, pinches her nipple between his fingers.

“Yes, sweet girl. So close. Keep moving your hips, baby; horny, desperate girl. Daddy will let you come soon, just keep going.” Perfect woman that she is, she hums around him, takes him deeper yet; the chain is wound so far around his hand he thinks absently that he may as well just hold onto her collar, and when he hooks his finger around the metal ring she looks up at him and moans.

He comes holding onto that ring, and when she is finished swallowing for him he pulls her up by it, kisses her passionately, gratefully, and whispers praise against her lips; she is soaking wet, he can feel it where she is sprawled on his stomach, so he guides her to lay back on the bed and leans in for a couple more kisses.

“That was perfect, my sweet, owned girl. Did you like that?” He holds the chain loose and rubs two fingers over her clit, and she bucks up, nods her head.

“Yes, owner daddy. I love when you let me take you that far. It makes me achy,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs apart, very wide, presses a finger inside.

“I know, baby. I can feel how soft and wet you are for daddy. I want you to come on my fingers next, okay?”

“Yes, please, I want to. Want to come on them hard for you.” He leans in for a sweet, soft kiss, slides his finger out of her, then takes her hands and brings them together under her chin, wraps the chain around her wrists so they’re loosely bound, holding the handle in his fist. She moans like he’s destroying her, though he’s barely touched her, but when he slips two fingers inside her she just gasps softly and throws her head back, her stomach tensing.

“Such a pretty girl for me. I’m so lucky you’re all mine.” He is calm—or at least, he’s projecting calm—where she is keyed up, eager, desperate, and he always loves it like this, loves to see how much he can tease her, how long she will hold out until she’s begging for him to fuck her with his hand. “Can you stay still for me? I wonder how long you can stay still for me, sweet girl.”

“Mmm, daddy.” Her chest is heaving as he thrusts his fingers slowly in, then out, then rubs them up her pussy, between her lips, and then thrusts them back in. It’s got to be torture for her, but she just breathes. “I can stay still, daddy. I can do whatever you ask.”

He closes his eyes briefly, collects himself so he doesn’t let all that power go to his head, and pushes his fingers into her a bit faster just to watch her struggle to behave.

“Does that feel good, daddy’s girl?” She bites her lip and nods, offers him a strained god, yes, so he adds another finger; the fact that she can speak at all means she’s far too coherent for his liking. He leans up for a kiss, brushes his nose over her throat, along the edge of the collar, right where his initials are, and she lifts her hips but stops herself, whimpers. “Oh, baby, what is it? Are you needy?” he whispers in her ear.

“Needy, please daddy,” she pleads softly, her eyes focused on him when he pulls back to look at her face, but also a little far away at the same time. “Please, please, I need to come. I need to come, I’m achy.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you come, sweet girl.” He presses their mouths together a couple times, losing his composure a little as she loses hers, and then he moves down between her open legs and rubs his tongue over her clit while pounding his fingers inside.

She is unable to resist moving her hips as she gets closer to climax, and he pulls away, pausing to look up into her eyes again. They’re very hazy now, and she’s whining high in her throat at the sudden lack of stimulation.

“If you don’t stay still, daddy will have to spank you, baby girl. Do you understand?” She nods lazily, and he taps his hand against her pussy, a couple of light slaps just to get her attention. She blinks, makes eye contact, and he asks again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy.” She flicks her tongue over her lips, closes her eyes, and he leans back in to roll his tongue over her clit, fingers moving quickly in and out of her. She remains still for about thirty seconds and then slams down hard against his hand, and from there she doesn’t stop. “Oh please, please. So close, please daddy,” she begs, pressing into the thrusts, and just when she is starting to come he wraps his hand around the chain around her wrists, tugs her body up so he can reach her mouth, and kisses her deep and wet while he fucks her through her orgasm.

She comes hard as promised, soaking his hand, moaning into the kiss—probably due to the fact that he’s holding her up by the leash, because displays of strength make her feel extremely submissive—and when she is through he lays her gently back, unwinds the chain and kisses her wrists.

“Good girl, you did so well. Daddy is so proud.” He leans up to press easy kisses to her cheeks and mouth, and she wraps her arms around his neck, making soft noises of contentment against his lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I love making you feel good. Do you love making me feel good?”

He knows she does, but likes to hear it, even when it’s just a sigh like the one she gives him now—he knows what all of her sounds mean, when she’s so deeply sunken into subspace that she's all begging and soft noises and daddy.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart. Are you ready for me to come inside you? Daddy comes inside because he owns you.”

“Daddy, mmm,” she breathes, and he gets up on his knees, spreads them, and drapes her thighs over his, slides in easily because she is still so open and slick. He wraps one hand around her thigh and brings the other to the chain hooked to her collar, loops it around his forearm, and thrusts quick and smooth, grunting when she grabs his wrists and bucks her hips against him. “Oh, fuck. Oh.” She gasps when he pulls on the chain a little harder, bounces roughly against his thighs and whimpers her pleasure, then drops a hand to her pussy and rubs as he slams into her with equal desperation.

“Yes baby, fuck daddy. Good girl, rubbing your little pussy; if I come before you, you’ll have to wait a while, so I hope you get off first.” She whines unhappily at that, rubs faster, her head tipped back, and when he squeezes her breast with the hand holding the handle of the leash she wraps her legs tightly around his thighs and comes with his name on her lips.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow: he takes his hands off of her completely, since she’s holding on to him with her legs, and fucks her hard, pulling on the chain and muttering praise until he spills deep inside her. She is breathless, still but for the rise and fall of her chest, and he takes a moment before pulling out, unwrapping the chain from around his arm and encouraging her to turn onto her stomach.

She complies easily, looks fucked-out and spent, and he kisses along her spine, between her shoulder blades when he slides back into her.

“Again, daddy?” she asks, barely a whisper, and he runs his hands over her body, soft and soothing, leans in to put his weight against her back, his mouth at her ear.

“Not yet, baby girl, but I want to stay inside you, okay? How are you feeling?” She turns her head for a kiss, hums.

“Fuzzy. Good.” He kisses her again and moves his lips to her jaw, then her neck, right up against the collar.

“Is it uncomfortable? Too tight?” he asks softly. He doesn’t want to upset her by suggesting they take it off, but he’s been rough with it, so he wants to check.

“No, owner daddy. It’s perfect.” She gets her arm out from beneath her, reaches it around his neck and pulls him close, nuzzles against his throat. “I love you and I love being owned by you.”

“I love you, baby girl, and I love owning you. You’ve given me everything.”

This may have started as something to do to get her through the lingering effects of the case, but he would be lying if he said he doesn’t see and feel the value in the voluntary transfer of power, how easily she gave herself to him, willingly, completely. He kisses her again, sweet and slow, and then leans up, puts his hands on her ass, massages it.

“Do you need anything?” She murmurs yes, and he smiles a little to himself, rubs a hand up her back. “Thank you for telling me, baby. What can daddy do for you?”

“I need to be spanked, daddy. I couldn’t hold still.” She slides up to her hands and knees, knees spread wide, and though he’s no longer hard inside her, he doesn’t see that being a problem for long.

“That’s right. Good girl for reminding me.” He squeezes her ass, then lightly taps it, and she whimpers. “You were too horny, you couldn’t stay still. I’m not mad,” he promises with another tap. “I know how you get when I touch your pussy: you become such a messy, needy, desperate baby. You can’t help yourself.” She sighs, presses her ass back against him and tilts her head back a little.

“Can’t help myself, daddy,” is all she says, voice breathy and short, and he picks up the leash, holds it loosely along the length of her spine, and smacks her hard on the ass with an open palm.

She gasps, digs her fingers into the bedding, braces herself for more impact; by the sixth, she is grinding against him, panting and whining, her ass an angry red. She’s drenched in slick, and he’s hard again, so he grabs her ass roughly with both hands and thrusts a few times before spanking her a seventh time.

“Fuck daddy, yes daddy,” she moans, pushing eagerly into his thrusts; she fucks herself on his cock even when he’s still, even when his hands come down hard on her already irritated skin. “Mmh. I’m bad, daddy. I’m bad and I’m not perfect, but you still love me.” He exhales deeply, because he knows his girl well, and he knows this means she will be dropping, hard, as soon as she comes; he mentally prepares for the worst, just in case.

“You’re not bad, sweetheart, you are so good; not just to me, but to everyone.” He moves one hand to her hip, holds her steady, then grabs the chain with the other hand and pulls her closer while he pounds inside her. “And no, you’re not perfect, but you’re perfect for daddy; you’re smart, and sweet, and so beautiful, and I love you.” He drapes himself over her back, tugs on the chain so she will meet him for a gentle kiss, their lips so soft in contrast to the way their bodies meet, eager for release. “I love you, baby. Come and let daddy take care of you. Daddy will make it all better.”

She reaches back for him, covers his hand with hers and takes a deep, shuddering breath; it’s only a matter of time before the tears fall, and he would like to be holding her by then, so he curls his hand around to rub at her clit, murmurs reassurances and repeats that he’s got her, and she comes trembling, gasping beneath him.

He kisses her shoulders, thrusts a few more times and then pulls out to come on her hot, marked ass; breathless, he eases her body down onto the bed, leans up to brush her hair back and unbuckle the collar, sets it aside.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Time to rest and let daddy take care of you. You did so well for me, baby. You gave me everything; I will be so careful with it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feels so much emotion for the sensitive, thoughtful, incredible woman beneath him it makes his chest ache. He brings a hand to her ass, rubs his come in, knows that it stings—but they both like this, and he knows she will expect it, would feel somehow inadequate if he didn’t. He presses a kiss to her lower back. “I’m going to get you some water, good girl. Amazing, special girl. Be right back.”

He grabs a pillow, brings it to her head and lifts it up so she’s pressed comfortably against it, then gives her a peck on the cheek and heads to the kitchen for water and a snack. When he returns, she’s clutching the pillow, turned to face the door so she can see him enter. He pulls her close, sits her up enough to give her a few sips of water, then sets down the glass and holds her against his chest, soft and shivering slightly in his arms.

“I know we just had a bath earlier, but would you like another? Or a shower?” He tugs the blanket loose and wraps it around them, rocks her a little. Gently removing the ponytail holder from her hair, he shakes it loose with his fingers, rubs her throat where the collar left a slight indentation. “Sweet, owned girl, I will give you anything you need, always. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She cries, clutching at him, and he soothes her, squeezes her, moves his hands through her hair and brushes the tears off of her face; when the sobbing slows, he reaches carefully for tissues on the bedside table, dries her eyes and helps her blow her nose, then gives her more water. She looks a little better after drinking half the glass, so he convinces her to take a couple bites of food, rubs her sore ass with a soft hand.

“Can we shower? And then more of this?” she asks, just a whisper, and he nods and leans in for some slow, sweet presses of lips. Her fingers card through his hair, and he presses a hand to her cheek. “Thank you, daddy. I’m so grateful for you.”

“I’m grateful for you, too, baby. The world just isn’t right when you’re upset—when I can’t find that brilliant smile.” It’s not quite brilliant, but the corner of her mouth does curve up for him, which he considers a good sign. “Let’s go get cleaned up and then I’ll hold you until you’re sick of me,” he teases. He unwraps them and gets off the bed with her in his arms.

“Could never be sick of you ever. Perfect daddy, perfect man.” He shoots her a look, something like yeah right but not too self-deprecating, and she cuddles closer. “Okay, perfect for me, anyway. Strong, gentle owner daddy I know I can trust with everything.”

They shower—she practically purrs when he scrubs her head with shampoo, when he combs conditioner through her hair with his fingers—and slip into pajamas, and he takes the comforter to the laundry room and grabs the spare, wraps her up tight and pulls her close, hugs and kisses and talks to her about everything and nothing until she’s ready for some dinner and a movie on the couch.

She thanks him for everything he did to help her through it, but it’s really his pleasure; it’s where he finds his value, and he tells her so. Because she can’t wear the collar to work, he makes a stop on his lunch break a week later, sneaks into a jewelry store, and buys her a ring.

There is no room to inscribe his initials, but his intentions are heavily implied.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #request #prompt

[nevertheless-moving]

Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9

Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.

Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan. 

*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****

*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********

Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence. 

In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.

Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis. 

Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).

I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.

Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.

Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans. 

On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?

The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers. 

The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.

The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.

 “I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.” 

The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.

“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.

“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading. 

“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters. 

“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?” 

The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.

Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.

Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence. 

“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.” 

General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.

“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”

The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements. 

An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.

Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate. 

After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves. 

His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.

Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.

The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery. 

While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could. 

A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing. 

Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.

CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives. 

As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:

air resistance 

centrifugal force

normal space gravity 

Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment

the flames engulfing the ship below him

At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey. 

To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.

Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.

He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”

There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.

He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location. 

It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher. 

Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time. 

A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened. 

It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces. 

Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge. 

A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.

Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.

uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on

Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again

they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)

While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.

Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous. 

Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.

The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?

(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)

The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see

Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.

Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark. 

Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish. 

Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts

Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.

With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would. 

(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)

Continued Here

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 9 #wow this is a lot more plot than i meant to write but what else is new #I got incredibly sidetracked and I'm frustrated because I'm not even close to my main point #this happened with au 27 too #is this writing? #screw it I'm posting this I write a folllow up #MAYBE #fanfiction #i guess #how many words is this #3300?? #i mean on one hand that is a lot for me I would be proud of myself if I wasn't ignoring calls from my boss #on the other how the kriff to people just churn out 40000 word fics unreal people #as always every time I try to write it just magnifes the love I have for fic writers y'all are the best #no i will not edit this #this was supposed to be crack #CRACK #bad touch au #sw au

[wrenhyperfixates]

A Kiss at Midnight

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: At Tony’s New Year’s Party, you notice Loki is upset. He’s hesitant to tell you what’s wrong, but when he finally confesses, the coming year suddenly seems so much brighter. Warnings: mainly fluff with just a tiny bit of angst A/N: Happy New Year everyone! May it be filled with nothing but love and joy. Thank you all for supporting me. I’m looking forward to producing even more content in the coming year! Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Yet another party was raging on around you. There had been far too many this past year, in your opinion. At least this one wasn’t just because Tony was throwing it on a whim. No, tonight was New Year’s Eve. Even so, you would argue that the music was blasting just a little too loud, and everyone was shouting just a little too much. Maybe those were directly affecting each other, you thought with a small laugh.

You glanced over to where the God of Mischief, your best friend, was standing, looking rather glum. After having made the rounds, you were on your way to the corner he had sequestered himself in. If there was anyone who disliked these parties more than you, it was Loki. Too many people, too many glares, he would tell you. It made your heart break a little more every time. Despite your best efforts, you’d only found one reporter willing to write an article on Loki in a positive light, and they only ran a small, though considerably popular, blog. Everyone else just seemed to think it too much of a risk. All these depressing thoughts brought a frown to your face as you approached the god.

“Darling, is everything alright?” he questioned once you reached him. “Are you feeling ill? Or perhaps it is just this blasted party?”

“The second one, I suppose,” you chuckled. “I’m more worried about you, though. How are you doing?”

It still always took Loki aback for a second when you asked him something like that. He smiled at you and took your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. It made your heart skip a few beats. Yes, he was your best friend, but you wished he was even more than that. But he needed this friendship, you knew, and you wouldn’t take that from him if the feelings weren’t reciprocated. And let’s face it, it was unfathomable that he did return them. After all, you were just you, and he was a literal god. You pushed the thought out of your mind as he replied.

“Oh, same issue as you, really. You know these parties are not really my speed,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I must say, however, that they are far more bearable when you are by my side. Dare I say, even enjoyable.”

You giggled a little as that beautiful glint you loved returned to his eyes. “Then perhaps you’ll indulge me and join me for a dance?”

“I suppose I will,” he sighed in mock exasperation. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Still holding your hand, he led you to the dance floor. Of course, as soon as you made it there, a slow song began to play. Just your luck, you thought, though you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. On the one hand, you were getting to dance with your crush. On the other, it was a painful reminder that was all this was; you weren’t actually dating the beautiful god.

You shyly smiled up at Loki, afraid you were about to make a fool of yourself. Knowing he was far more graceful than you, you let him take the lead. Your right hand stayed clasped in his left, as his other hand guided your left one to his shoulder before settling on your waist. He gently tugged you closer so that your chests were pressed together, your head naturally dropping to rest on his shoulder. It seemed to surprise him that you didn’t mind being so close, but once he got accustomed to the idea, he placed his head atop yours. It was a perfect moment, and you pushed all your anxious thoughts out of the way so you could just enjoy it.

“Thank you, Loki. For dancing with me, I mean,” you said as the music stopped, lifting your head but standing just as close. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you, too, darling. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I do not suppose you would want to stay and dance again?” he asked, uncertainty obvious in his voice.

Before you could answer, Peter came pushing through the crowd, calling your name over the constant noise. You gave Loki an apologetic look and pulled away to greet the boy as he reached you.

“The foosball table is finally open!” Peter exclaimed. “Mr. Bucky is just finishing his game with Mr. Rogers, and then it’s all ours. Oh, and hi Mr. Loki. Do you want to come too? You can play the winner.”

“That is alright, spiderling. I will skip, but thank you for the generous offer. You two have fun.”

“Ok. If you’re sure,” you said. You squeezed Loki’s hand one more time before leaving. “I’ll see you later, ok?”

He nodded his head and walked in the opposite direction Peter led you. You sighed, assuming that he went back to his corner. Was it bad you already missed being held against him? Probably, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe if you were lucky, he’d still be in the mood to dance again later. Even if it wasn’t another slow dance, maybe he would hold your hand as he spun you round the floor.

After three games of foosball with Peter, two of which you lost, you got a couple Shirley Temples: one for you and one for Loki. Unfortunately, he wasn’t where you expected him to be, and your eyes scoured the room to find him. It was like he had disappeared. Then you spotted the door to the roof and were struck with the gut feeling that you’d find him out there. Still holding the drinks, you pushed the door open with your back. Your eyes immediately landed on Loki, his arms leaning on the railing as he stared off to some unknown point in the distance.

“Hey,” you said, offering him a glass, which he accepted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You leaned back against the railing, too. “I was looking for you. What are you doing our here?”

“Just taking a break from the crowd, I guess,” he replied with an unconvincing shrug. “How did your game go?”

“I lost, but it was fun.”

“That is good.”

“Yeah.”

You lapsed into silence, some unspoken issue in the air between you. The last thing you wanted to do was pressure Loki into telling you what was going on, but you could see something was wrong. It upset you that he didn’t trust you enough to let you in, but even more than that, you were upset that he was going through anything in the first place. Instead, you decided to focus on something positive.

“Here’s to another year of friendship,” you said, raising your glass in a toast. “I look forward to it, Loki.”

“Yes. Another year of...friendship,” he echoed, halfheartedly lifting his drink, too, though you could tell he was doing his best to be more enthusiastic.

“Ok, that’s it. Tell me what’s up. You know you can trust me with anything, right?” you asked, laying a hand on his arm.

“Yes. After all, it is like you said; we are friends.” He practically spat the last word, and you involuntarily flinched away from him a little, feeling bad when a look of hurt danced across his features. “I am sorry, darling. I should not have lost my temper. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Maybe so, but something’s wrong. I know you didn’t mean it, but I also know that something is bothering you.”

“Oh, darling.” He set your drinks down on a nearby table and cupped your cheeks. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You were just yourself, Loki,” you replied, putting your hands on top of his. “That’s what you did.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, his blue-green irises bore deep into your soul. “If I confess something to you now, do you promise to tell no one else?”

“Loki, of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

His eyes searched yours for another minute before he backed away from you. Your hands dropped to your side as he paced a little. You already missed the contact. He was still obviously on the fence of whether or not he should tell you whatever was on his mind. You nervously rocked back and forth on your heels as you felt his own palpable anxiety in the click click click of his shoes on the floor. Suddenly, he stopped in front of you and stared at you for another moment more.

“I am in love with you,” he blurted out, visibly cringing at his lack of eloquence. He took a deep breath and tried again. “What I mean to say is, well, what I said. I am in love with you. And while I value your friendship more than anything else in this world, I have come to desire more.”

“What?” you gasped in utter disbelief. “Loki. I don’t believe this.”

“It is ok if you do not feel the same,” he said, taking a step back. “Nothing has to change if you do not want it to. But, please, I do not want to lose you completely.”

“No, Loki,” you hurried to fix the misunderstanding. You took a step forward so that the distance he’d put between you was gone. “I don’t believe it because I do feel the same. I just never imagined that you did.”

“You truly do?”

“With all my heart.”

At the same time, you both moved to close the gap between you, kissing each other with a passion too long hidden. As you stood there, two hearts becoming one, you could hear the people inside begin the countdown. You pulled away, eyes shining and lips red.

“I propose a new toast,” you began. “To our new relationship in a new year. To our love.”

“To our love,” he echoed again, much happier this time. “Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.”

As the countdown reached its end, you and Loki kissed again, sealing the promise you’d made. Here with Loki, you knew one thing for sure: This was going to be a good year.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #mcu loki #loki fluff #fluff #angst #loki angst #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #reader insert #gender netural reader #marvel #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #loki friggason #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel oneshot

[depressedacadamia]

5 times Leo hit on Calypso as her Barista and one time it worked

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Coffee Shop AU! Calypso is running late one day so she ends up going to a coffee shop- what she doesn’t expect is for her barista to be Bad boy supreme

Later on in this fic, they sing this song.

Warnings?: Not much, terrible pick up lines, mainly fluff, making out.

A/N:  This took me so long but alas, here it is! This is kinda my first official fluff and I tried okay. Anyway, enjoy, comment, share, like- you know the drill. <3 from moi!

The 1st Thursday

Calypso was not happy with the line she was waiting in. She was running late and thus was at a coffee shop- somewhere she preferred not to go. The weather was terrible, grey skies as well as heavy rain that had Calypso drenched. The stupid forecast hadn’t predicted the rain and thus she had left her apartment without an umbrella nor raincoat. 

The coffee shop was small but cute, she had to admit. The staff seemed small but efficient and within a few minutes, Calypso found herself at the front of the line, face to face with a boy with rich dark tan skin and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. He had long dimples and his dark curly hair would flop over his face in a cute manner.

“Hi, Welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Super sized Mcshizzle and I will be taking your order today, do you have your order ready?” He looked up at the girl in front of him and immediately, his lips stretched into a lazy and goofy smile. She frowned at the nickname but internally she wanted to laugh, even his name badge read Super Sized Mcshizzle- Who called themselves that?

“Can I get a cappuccino with 2 espresso shots, please.” She reached into her bag to pull out her purse while the boy at the counter hummed and tapped at the machine in front of him.

“What kind of milk?” He looked up again, cheekily smiling as if he had something planned.

“Uh, almond is fine.”

“And your name?” He asked, pulling out a marker. Before she could answer, he cut in.

“Does your name start with a C-”

“-Actually it doe-” 

 “-Because I can C us together.” 

Calypso resisted the urge to smile and instead raised an eyebrow at the horribly cheesy pick up line. Despite this, she was a bit impressed- Her name did technically start with a C.

“Calypso. That’s my name,” She told him as she walked away from the counter and sat at one of the stalls, waiting for her name to be called out. 

The 2nd Thursday

Somehow, Calypso found herself queuing outside the same coffee shop the next Thursday. Whilst she told herself it was because the coffee was perfect, it was truly to see the brown haired grinning boy who had served her last week. Pick up lines weren’t really her poison, but he wasn’t creepy and even she had to admit it- He was cute. 

As the queue grew shorter, she grabbed her purse ready to pay. She had subconsciously chosen to wear better clothes and style her hair today. Was it a stupid decision to wear white when drinking coffee? Absolutely. But Calypso was 100% willing to take the risk. 

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Bad Boy Supreme and I will be taking your order today, do you have an order ready?” The boy looked up, with his hair flopping about. He had rolled his sleeves up and Calypso, who wasn’t about to get caught, quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She noticed that his name had changed- so had his badge. Did he have a collection of these names? She’d have to ask him next time.

Oh, so there will be a next time, huh? She asked herself. 

Shut up. 

“Oh. Calypso, right? Same as last time?” He asked as he hovered his finger over the machine.

“Oh, yeah. Cappuccino please.” 

As she waited for her name to be called out, she pulled out her sketchbook and started sketching the cute barista. From his elf like ears to his slanted chocolate eyes and the funny curl that went in the complete opposite direction of his hair earning him a messy hair look. It was only a basic sketch but it had outlined him. 

“Cappuccino for Calypso?” a familiar voice called out. She was slightly surprised to find her Barista also handing off her coffee but she also quite flattered. Or maybe she was just overthinking this. He could easily just have switched around for a friend- it can’t have been just for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she reached into her purse, trying to find the appropriate change in her purse. 

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” The pick up line rolled off his tongue as he leant over the counter separating them. He had a smirk that made Calypso immediately lose her strong front and spill her change all over the counter.

“What?!” she sputtered as her eyes darted to the change. She managed to scoop most of it into her arms without looking too much like a fool. She quickly grabbed her coffee and made her way out of the shop as fast as she possibly could, hoping she didn’t look as ridiculous as she thought she did. 

The 3rd Thursday

“You don’t understand, last time the pick up line was creepy. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now!” Leo groaned as he slammed his head on the counter beside his friend Will who always worked the same shift as him. Unfortunately, Will did not get to witness what Leo kept on describing as ‘a catastrophe’. 

“She won’t come in today, I bet. Ugh, I really screwed up.” 

“It really can’t have been that bad!” Will argued, dragging Leo by the arm to the front counter. 

“I said You and I are like nachos with Jalapenos. I’m super cheesy, you’re super hot and we belong together.”

Will cringed. “Okay, that is bad.”

Calypso could not believe she was coming back to the coffee shop. The previous pick up line was terrible, in fact it was almost as bad as the ‘I’m here, what are your other two wishes’ pick up line that a creepy person had used on her earlier but in all honesty it wasn’t the barista that was the problem. It was the fact that she could not crush over someone with pickup lines as bad as those. This time, she had decided to use her card to pay so she wouldn’t have to deal with spilt change everywhere. 

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Commander tool Belt- that’s because my major is engineering and I fixed the old coffee machine- how can I help you?” The curly haired boy in front of her said miserably while slumped behind the counter with his face practically leaning on the machine.  

“I was hoping for the usual?” Her meek voice came out questioning. Leo’s head shot off the counter, almost slamming into the machine. 

“Wow… uh cappuccino again?” 

“Yep…” she searched for something to say. “So engineering major huh?” 

“Mhmm. I like making things I guess. What about you?” 

“Natural sciences. I was going to do art but I guess plants and animals are more of my poison.” She shrugged. 

“You can draw?” he asked, his voice peaking interest and turning around slightly. 

“Yes, why do you sound so surprised at that?” 

He batted his hand. “Oh nothing, just something we have in common.” He then winked and Calypso had to do everything she could to not react. She stood in front of the counter, waiting for her coffee but saw that her barista was screwing his eyes up and writing something on a cup. She wanted to pull out her sketchbook and draw the cute face he was pulling, leaning back and holding the cup in front of him as if it were an invention he had never seen. 

“Cappuccino for Calypso!” A sing-song voice that could only be her barista called out. She had to admit, his voice was not bad. In fact, it was quite impressive and it had a nice harmonious tune to it. 

“Thank you…” she said in a suspicious tone, as she swiped her card over the contactless payment machine. Her barista was suspiciously silent and she had yet to hear a terrible pick up line. He had a mischievous smile as if he had set something on fire and not told anyone anything about it. As she picked up her coffee, she noticed a lot more black marker on the cup and held it away from her face to read it.

Are you made of Copper and tellurium? Because you are CuTe.

She wanted to face palm at such a classic science pun but she was also impressed that he knew elements of the periodic table so easily. She let out a small laugh to let him know that she had noticed the pick up line before she took a small sip and smiled. 

The 4th Thursday

“I’m telling you, she actually laughed at the line! That’s a good thing right?” Leo asked as he put on his apron. 

“And I’m telling you, if you want her to go out with you, hit her with a star wars pun,” Will ugred while tying his apron behind his back.

“You’re obsessed with star wars.”

“Hey, it worked for me and Nico!” Will pointed out as they made their way to the counter.

“Sun boy, we all know you and Mr Debbie Downer did not get together over Star Wars pick up lines,” Leo argued. 

Calypso was running late. She hated being late. It was like slowly ticking off the boxes for panic 101. She was wearing mismatched socks, had the wrong books for class and the laces of her shoes were untied. At least the line was significantly shorter than usual and while normally that would have made Calypso question the occasion, she was too much in a rush to truly care.

As she ran in, she tripped over her laces and almost fell had it not been for the arms of the person in front of her. As she looked up to find her saviour, she found herself face to face with the curly brown haired boy who today wore the badge of ‘Admiral Leo’.  She thought Leo was a nice name and it suited him very well- much better than any other name would have.

“Hey, tie your shoes!” he scolded her and she was surprised by his concern over her safety. Alas, she had spoken too soon, 

“I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” he murmured, his lips right by her ear and his hot breath making goosebumps form all across her neck. He then reached down onto his knees, and did her laces. However, she noticed the manner he did them were different to how she would normally do them. 

“You know that’s how children do their laces, right?” Her hands rested on her hips as he gasped dramatically and held his hand over his heart. 

“Are you calling me a child?” 

Before she could say yes, he cut her off.

“The answer is I totally am a child because that means I can eat off the child menu,” He grinned foolishly. “Life hacks with Admiral Leo!” 

The 5th Thursday

“I’m telling you Leo- Make the Star Wars pun. Please! For me, do it for me!” Will begged as he tied Leo’s apron for him. Leo was reluctant to go with a Star Wars pun. He didn’t know if Calypso would get it or if she was into nerdy stuff like that but he was running out of ideas. He hadn’t gotten any terrible sparks of inspiration and the Star Wars inspired pun that Will had told him couldt go too badly?

Nervously, Leo waited behind the counter, his hands tapping as if he had just slapped on a nicotine patch and then glugged 6 espresso’s. In other words, Leo was anxious. If he just made the drinks without thinking about it, he could get his mind off it but when he started remembering that she may walk in at any moment, he could feel his hands shake and his stomach begin to churn. 

Calypso was very happy. She had no classes today, no research studies to deal with and she had even managed her time well enough to hang out with a friend before heading towards her newly found and now favourite coffee shop. She knew it was it because of a certain curly haired and cheekily grinning boy. 

“Hello, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee, I’m Flaming Valdez- don’t ask please- how can I assist you today?” He once again looked up and when seeing Calypso, he recited her order before the words could come out of her mouth. 

“Cappuccino with 2 espresso shots and almond milk?” 

Calypso, a bit shocked, nodded. She could feel small butterflies forming in her stomach thinking about how Leo had memorised her order. 

Stop being silly. He probably memorises every regular’s order. 

 “Soo… Flaming Valdez… what’s the story behind that?” She asked, despite his warning. Leo tipped his head back and let out a throaty laugh that had Calypso tingling all over- How can a person have such a gorgeous laugh? How can someone look so good while laughing? 

“Oh, that’s a good story. Every year, we celebrate the owners birthday by having the shop to ourselves. No customers, just the staff chilling. Anyway, so it’s like 9pm and we’re all meant to be out because it was sunset an hour ago but instead we’re still in the shop. Everyone’s gathered right out there because your boy, Flaming Valdez, brought in Roman candles!” Leo pointed to the chairs and tables outside the shop.

“Roman candles?” Calypso asked, a tad confused. Her face scrunched up a bit and Leo almost died from how cute her face looked.

“They’re like fireworks. There’s a slight difference with how the shell explodes compared to fireworks and they are a much more traditional version of fireworks but…” He trailed off when he noticed Calypso’s confused face- he just managed to remember that she wasn’t a nerd like him and didn’t study fireworks in her freetime. 

“Anyway, Will has the red ones and I have the green ones and so we literally start shooting them at each other like we’re re-enacting Harry Potter or something!”

“What! Can’t someone get set on fire from that?”

“Well yeah actually, they can. Will shoots one at me, sparks at my hair and sets it on fire. I’m running around trying to stop my burning hair while everyone is laughing. The crowd started cheering ‘Flaming Valdez’ and since then, they’ve adopted me that name. I’ve tried to get them to change it but it seems to stick,” he laughed while making her coffee. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve seemed to notice. Super sized Mcshizzle, Bad boy supreme, Commander tool belt, Admiral Leo and today- Flaming Valdez.” She listed all the names he would wear on his badges off her fingers. However, that may have been a mistake because when she looked up, she saw Leo shooting her a sly grin that made the butterflies start going crazy in her stomach again.

“So you remember my names, huh?” 

“It’s the nice thing to do,” she defended, a blush rising on her cheeks as she reached for some napkins.

Leo took a deep breath- he couldn’t believe that he was going to use Will’s Star Wars pick up line. 

“Do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” The words practically rolled off his tongue and Calypso froze before breaking in laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore- this was by far the funniest of all the pick up lines he had used. She pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on her sketchpad before ripping it out.

Leo, distraught, watched as she laughed at the pick up line. He should have listened to his gut and never made the pick up line. Oh gosh, he looked like an absolute loser now. Who makes Star Wars puns other than nerds? He handed Calypso the coffee and watched as she quickly left.

 He noticed the sketch she had left behind, it looked oddly familiar. In fact, he could have sworn it looked just like him. She had been sketching him everytime she waited for her coffee. He traced finger gently over the outline of his face, smiling. She had drawn everything in such detail, he felt like he was looking in the mirror but at the same time he felt she had facetuned him and made him look.. Well, perfect. Did she think he needed all these faults fixed? Or was this just how she saw him? She somehow made every flaw seem gorgeous and beautiful and he didn’t know how to feel as he looked at the bottom of the sketch. 

His eyes widened as he read the note left at the bottom of the sketch. 

Hey Leonidas (your co-worker told me that). Here’s my number - 07669833256. 

P.S- Star Wars puns ALWAYS work.

Yours truly, Calypso

“Leo? Are you good?” Will stopped to ask him. 

“Star Wars puns always work- you were right,” he said starstruck. 

The Next Friday

“Mamacita, get off those tables, I need to clean them,” Leo huffed, holding a spray bottle threateningly and a cloth in his other hand. Calypso, giggling and giddy hopped off the table. She watched as Leo quickly sprayed it down before wiping it. 

“Are you checking me out?” Leo’s smug voice cut through Calypso’s thoughts, snapping her out of mind. Her initial reaction was to stutter and wildly deny it however today at 7pm, she felt more bold than usual and decided to tease him a bit.

“So what if I was?” 

Leo almost froze at the bold response, not expecting the reaction from her. They’d been officially going out for one week and so far, Calypso had been quite shy. A kiss on the cheek here and there, a bit of innocent flirting but no one had really openly confessed their feelings. It was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other but they seemed determined to have the other say it first. 

“Well if you were… " He turned around to see her smirking with both hands on her hips. He was not losing to Calypso- he would make her confess her feelings first if it was the last thing he did. She sat herself on the counter behind her and beckoned Leo forward with her finger. He raised an eyebrow at the bold move but obliged. 

Leo stood between Calypso’s thighs, his hands slipping around her waist. Their faces were close enough that if Calypso and Leo both moved their head slightly forward, they’d be kissing. Funnily enough, they both had started eating mints and chewing gum whenever they’d be with each other as if they were planning the moment. 

“I still can’t believe those pick up lines worked,” Calypso sighed, her hands moving onto Leo’s shoulders, comfortably rubbing them back and forth. 

“Bad Boy supreme is very much offended by those comments.”

“Nu uh. Ever since that blond co-worker of yours told me that your full name is Leonidas...” She paused to unsuccessfully hold in a small laugh. “...That your name is Leonidas, it’s been Leonidas and it will always be Leonidas to me.”

“Not even Leo?” He asked, his eyes entering puppy eyes mode. Calypso remained unimpressed and shook her head. Their eyes locked and they could feel each other's thoughts. Just as their heads were leaning in,the radio behind the counter bugged out and static started blaring everywhere. Calypso wanted to curse god- of coure something just had  to ruin the moment. Immediately, the two students shoved their hands over their ears and Leo jumped over the counter to quickly fix the horrendous noise. A few minutes later, About Love  by Marina started softly playing through the cafe’s speakers. 

The moment seemed like it was manufactured for a movie. The beautiful sunset on the horizon, the romantic music and most of all, Leo’s playful smile as he held his hand out asking Calypso to dance. She, of course, accepted and the two twirled about in each other's arms. They weren’t very good and they kept on stepping on each other's toes but eventually they got into a position where Leo’s hands were wrapped around her waist and Calypso’s arms were thrown around Leo’s neck. 

Leo watched as Calypso closed eyes and softly sang the words to the song under her breath. 

“Started in the strangest way, didn’t see it coming.”

Leo started singing with her, “My head gets messy when I try to hide.”

“The things I love about you in my mind” Their voices were harmonious and in sync. 

“I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot about love, a lot about love but you’re in my head, you’re my blood and it feels so good, it hurts so much.” Calypso had her head leaning on Leo’’s chest and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart quicken.

“Shall I take this as your confession of love to me?” He murmured into her hair. Calypso shot her head up so fast that she almost butted Leo in the chin. 

“Hell no, Leonidas.” 

Yet, as she said those words, her face leaned upwards towards Leo with her intense gaze falling to his lips. They looked soft, supple even and she felt so tempted to reach out and brush them. In fact, she felt so tempted to touch them that she didn’t even notice her actual hand reaching out to brush against his bottom lip. 

Leo had to physically restrain himself from shivering when he felt Calypso’s finger brush over his bottom lip, dragging it back slightly before slowly setting her hand at the side of his face. Slowly, like they were two magnets slowly attracting each other, they leaned in. When they were practically breathing in each other's face, Leo decided to spring one more pick up line on Calypso. 

“Did you know that my lips are skittles?” Leo cut in quickly. Calypso quickly frowned, not catching on. Leo continued, “ And you’re about to taste the rainbow.”

Calypso groaned, throwing her head back while Leo giggled to himself. Sick of chasing each other, Calypso grabbed Leo’s face with both her hands and smashed her lips into his, abruptly shutting him up. To say Leo was surprised would be the understatement of the year. He was in a true state of panic, thinking what he should do with his hands, his lips, his entire being. Her lips moved against his, encouraging him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, both of them moving up her back, pulling her into the kiss. 

They pulled away for a brief second, looking each other in the eye before slamming their lips back together. Had anyone walked in on them, it would have only been appropriate to say that they were devouring each other- their lips pushed and their hands pulled. Their lips moved in sync and Calypso weaved her hands into Leo’s curls. It was demonically passionate as their tongues slipped across each other's lips. The heat of the kiss spread across Calypso’s face- the blush was so obvious, she felt like her lips were on fire. Nothing could have stopped them, not even if the entire world was on fire. 

As they pulled away, Calypso had one more trick up her sleeve. 

“As far I’m concerned, the rainbow tasted pretty damned good,” She remarked, referencing to Leo’s previous pick up line. 

#Leo valdez #percy jackson #hoo #will solace #Calypso #Leo Valdez fanfic #caleo #leo x calypso #caleo fanfic #calypso fanfic #Leo Valdez fanfiction #calypso fanfiction #caleo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #hoo fanfic #pjo #pjo fanfic #Leo x calypso fanfic #will is here for like 3 seconds #will is a Star Wars fan #will makes Leo use a Star Wars pun #tumblr #leo valdez #aesthetic #Nico is mentioned like once

[fangirlwriting-stories]

These Unprecedented Times

Summary: Thomas was currently spending most of his days stewing in his empty house in the middle of the nightmare that is 2020 and wishing he had someone to talk to.  Apparently, his brain listened to him though, or he's just finally lost it, because suddenly standing across the room is someone that looks like a half-snake version of him.

Or, In Which Thomas Is So Bad At Taking Care of Himself That He Accidentally Summons His Self-Preservation.

AO3 Link

Chapter One: Self-Interest

Thomas was running pretty dry on video ideas, and he had no idea why.  It was like all his motivation for creating had been sapping away as lockdown continued.  It was frustrating to no end, and he couldn’t seem to muster up the will to even try and fix the problem.  And with a lack of ideas in that regard, he was stuck thinking about everything that was going on, all of the disease and the death and the nightmares that this year had been bringing.  He tried to stay as up to date as possible in case something new had happened, but with that and all the thoughts already invading his head from information he already knew, he just grew more and more anxious about the world’s situation until he forced himself off of social media and tried to do something relaxing.  Unfortunately, that usually only lasted about half an hour before he started feeling guilty about not being up to date and even trying to enjoy himself with everything that was going on.

He texted and facetimed with his friends as often as he could, but most of the time he was alone, and stewing in everything by himself wasn’t that great either.  The only real person-to-person contact he got was when he went out walking, and learned to understand why dogs got so excited when they saw each other.

But he was fine!  He was lucky.  He wasn’t an essential worker, after all, and he didn’t have to risk his life to make a paycheck.  He should be grateful that he got to stay home, relatively safe, and all he had to do to have the money for groceries was to come up with ideas for videos, which he should be able to do with no problem.  He was fine.  He just needed to push through whatever this funk was and come up with an idea.

Thomas tapped his pencil against the blank notebook page and tried to force himself not to groan.

If only there was someone he could talk to.

“Thomas!”

Thomas yelped and spun towards the voice.  He was met with a bizarre half-snake man that looked remarkably like him.  Before Thomas could process the seven shades of what the fuck that was happening, the half-snake man marched across the room and yanked him up by the color.

“Thomas, you son of a— I can’t let this go on anymore,” the snake-man snapped, shaking Thomas back and forth, which Thomas didn’t really appreciate all that much.  “Do you know what I am?”

“Uh, I mean at this point I’d rather like to—” Thomas started.

“I am exhausted!  All of your efforts to convince yourself that you’re okay while there is goddamn global trauma going on are cutting into my self care time!  You’ve made me get sick of you lying to yourself.  Me!  So look me in the eyes, Sanders.  You. Are. Not. Okay.  Admit it.”

“What— I don’t— oh god.”  Thomas pushed the snake-man off and started scrambling backwards.  “Am I hallucinating?  Have I lost it?  Oh my god, what do I—”

“You’re not hallucinating,” said the snake-man.  Thomas looked back up at him to see him looking calmer and maybe just a bit sheepish.  “I probably should have done that a different way, but I don’t know how else I’m supposed to get through to you at this point—”  He sighed.  “I am a product of your mind and personality.  Though I suppose I do lack a physical form.”

“That… that just raises more questions…” Thomas said weakly.

“Absolutely none of which are important to address right now compared to what you are doing to yourself, Thomas.”

“How would you even know—”

The snake-man sighed.  “Look, I’m a… Side, of you, if you will.  Specifically, the Side meant to look out for your own interests.  Your bank account, your reputation, your self-esteem.  But instead of all of that, what I’ve been spending 24 freaking 7 doing lately is trying to tell you that everything is fine when we’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic with a president who barely acknowledges it’s a problem, which means I have to spend hours every day trying to get your Anxiety to not have a panic attack, and even that is barely working at this point!”

Thomas swallowed, trying to process all of that.  The… Side in front of him seemed to be more than willing to give him a moment to do so.  But even at the end of that, all that came out of Thomas’ mouth was, “…oh.”

The Side buried his head in his hands and gave a slightly hysterical laugh.  “‘Oh,’ he says,” he mumbled to himself.

“Wait,” Thomas said as an idea came to him.  “What do you mean, getting my Anxiety to not have a panic attack?  Don’t you mean give me a—”

“I said what I said, Sanders,” the Side said, shifting and crossing his arms.  “You think your fight or flight reflex is doing any better than I am right now?  I’m sure he’d be delighted to hear that you think so after running himself ragged trying to keep you up with the constantly changing safety measures.”

“My fight or flight?  Wait, is he that or my—”

“His role is to keep you safe,” the Side cut him off.  “Meaning he’s the part of you in charge of that particular set of responses.  His current title is Anxiety, and I think you can take a few guesses as to why.”

“His… title?  I’m sorry, this is a lot to process,” Thomas said, leaning back on the couch and rubbing at his temple.

The Side’s gaze softened.  “I’m sorry, Thomas,” he said gently.  “I don’t mean to be so intense right off the bat.  To be honest, I’m rather stressed, and I… did not expect this to happen.  Being able to speak to you was not something I ever considered would be possible.”

“Yeah, I think I’m with you there,” Thomas said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.  “I never expected to talk to a part of my personality face to face.  Are you sure I’m not hallucinating?”

“You’re not,” the Side said, looking amused.  “I believe I was summoned here because you needed me.”

“I just wanted someone to talk to,” Thomas muttered.

“That’s completely understandable,” the Side said.  He moved forward and gestured to the empty couch.  “May I sit?”

“Uh, okay,” Thomas said, shifting to face the Side as he did so.  “Can I ask some questions now?”

“We probably should slow down for a minute,” the Side said with a nod.  “What are your questions?”

“Uh…” Thomas wasn’t quite sure where to start.  He could certainly say he hadn’t expected to meet this “Side” of himself today.  He didn’t even know how this worked, or what to call this Side, or—

Oh.  Maybe that was a place to start?

“What should I call you?” Thomas asked.

“The title I would prefer is Self-Interest.”

Thomas nodded.  “Self-Interest.  Okay.  And Anxiety.  Is it just the two of you?”

“No, there are others.” Self-Interest shook his head.  “Don’t even get me started on what Intrusive Thoughts is doing to the mindscape right now.”

Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Okay, hold up.  You’re saying that all of these ‘Sides’ represent different parts of my personality?”

Self-Interest raised an eyebrow.  “I thought we clarified this already.”

“No, I mean, why are you explaining to me everything that’s going on with them?  Shouldn’t I just be talking to them directly?”

Self-Interest snorted.  “Oh, yes, you’re definitely ready for that.  You won’t even admit that you’re not okay, and you want to meet your Intrusive Thoughts.”

“Wh— why do I even have a whole side for Intrusive Thoughts?  Anxiety I can get, but—”

“It’s… complicated,” Self-Interest said.  “Technically he’s part of your Creativity, but, well, let’s just say there’s two Sides to that.  Creative thoughts you welcome, and ones you… don’t.  As much.”

“Well, can he start working on ones I want to have again?  YouTube is basically my only source of income right now, since I can’t do any auditions for shoots or plays.  If I don’t come up with an idea soon, I’ll be in trouble.”

Self-Interest blinked at him.  “You… want me to tell Intrusive Thoughts… what to do.”

“Well, yeah,” Thomas said.  Had he explained it wrong or something?

Self-Interest looked at him for another long moment.  “Sure, I’ll get right on that.  Good luck getting him away from diseases and death right now, though, that’s basically all you’ve been exposing us to lately.  Which connects back to my main point.”  Self-Interest leaned in.  “Stop trying to pretend you’re okay, and stop avoiding things that are going to actually make you feel better.”

“What…” Thomas said, not quite sure what Self-Interest was referring to.

“I get it, it’s hard to stop telling yourself you’re alright.  That’s sort of my fault.  But we’re not going to get anywhere like this.” Self-Interest paused.  “You know what, I have a better idea.  Give me that.”

Self-Interest reached over Thomas and grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, flipping the TV on.  “Oh, are we watching the news?” Thomas asked, settling in next to him.

“Ha.  Nope.  We’re watching Disney movies.”

Thomas blinked.  “But—”

“Thomas, we both desperately need a self care day.  Watching Disney will help you, and helping you will help me.  We’re doing this.  Sit back and relax.  If you’d like, I’ll allow you to make some popcorn first.”

“Uh… I’m good,” Thomas said.  Normally he’d start feeling guilty the moment he started considering doing something just for his enjoyment with everything that was happening, but for some reason the feeling felt sort of… muted right now.  Maybe it was the fact that Self-Interest was there?

Either way, Thomas leaned back into the couch as Self-Interest started playing The Little Mermaid and relaxed for the first time in a while.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Chapter Two

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #my fic

[catboylupin]

you have rly interesting takes abt wolfstar!! I was wondering if you had any head canons about the Prank like why Sirius did it and what Remus' reaction was?

hello and thank you and i’m So sorry that this has been sitting in my drafts for like Weeks at this point.... i’m physically incapable of doing anything intellectually demanding in a timely matter and this is such a hard topic because, like, i don’t know!! i’m not very well acquainted with the Fandom Mythology surrounding the Prank or the mainstream interpretation of events so i really don’t know what to make of it, especially in terms of sirius’s motivation. here are a few things that i referenced when typing this all out: meta meta/fic fic beautiful art 

the first thing that is interesting to me, and something to keep in the back of our minds when thinking about this, is that when discussing the prank in the shack during PoA, sirius says that “it served [snape] right.” 

also i think that the song hospital by the modern lovers possesses some outstanding post Prank vibes...

ok so re: sirius’s motivation. i don’t know. i think it was a combination of things. i don’t even think that sirius entirely knew why he did it, or what there was to gain. 

i guess the thing to sort out is to what extent sirius factored remus into the equation. was he not thinking about remus at all and how it would affect him and just wanted to hurt snape because he hated him, or was he like “this is for remus and remus will think it’s funny too”?

i think that he felt slightly goaded by snape because snape was being a massive asshole trying to get them expelled, and he also just did not like him at all. like, the most obvious motivation or end goal in sirius telling him is that he just wanted to scare snape so he would leave them alone and also it would be a little funny because hahaha he is a slimey wizard nazi (at age 15/16 do you think sirius would be politically advanced enough to have a ‘punching nazis’ outlook on snape? i don’t know)

and i don’t think that he ever seriously thought that remus would react well (like, how could he? sirius had to have known that remus’s worst fear ever was hurting someone). and he was literally risking the entire school finding out he was a werewolf. but maybe a small part of sirius was like “take that snape!! that’s what you get for bullying my beautiful mysterious friend!! remus will love this lol”

but i think the thing that makes the most sense is that he wasn’t thinking about remus that much and didn’t think he would react well.

and here i where you can start thinking about sirius’s upbringing and how that affected how he viewed werewolves/remus. 

i think that sirius was probably raised surrounded by some pretty intense anti-werewolf beliefs and he dealt with remus being a werewolf by 1. separating remus from the wolf and 2. kind of like romanticizing it. so much of sirius’s attraction to remus stemmed from this sort of fascination.. james was so similar to sirius and generally uncomplicated, but remus, even though he was kind of weird looking, always sort of elicited this morbid curiosity from him. and he saw remus’s lycanthropy as something he could fix, or at least help (see: the animagus thing, my personal headcanon that he was very into taking care of remus during their relationship). remus was his tragic werewolf friend. but remus never thought that sirius understood his lycanthropy the way remus wanted him to, that there was always this sort of tension, a lingering sense of “you think you’re so different from your family, but you’re not really.”  

sirius could have thought that snape actually knew about remus and wanted to make him prove that he knew, like: “sirius, i know what remus’s secret is, hint hint wink wink” “okay, if you really know then go to the shrieking shack,” like snape kind of goaded sirius into telling him, and sirius thought that he would know better. but that is just such a profoundly stupid thing for sirius to do, and i feel like putting too much blame on snape is being too generous to sirius.

leescoresbies has an interesting headcanon that the prank happened around the time sirius ran away from home and he was thus was very emotionally volatile. and so it was in part a result of sirius’s trauma/anger/joy, and i like that idea, those emotions had to have been a factor. and if you are someone that has a really hard time reconciling with sirius’s shitty behavior as a teen, that’s kind of an easy/ canon compliant way of saying “yeah, he was an asshole, but there was also this other thing going on...etc.” however, i don’t think that was the only reason, or even the main reason. i think that sirius is a deeply flawed person and thinking about the prank from the perspective of said flawed-ness makes his and remus’s relationship all the more complicated/interesting. 

and unfortunately a lot of this sort of boils down to whether or not sirius wanted to kill or seriously injure snape. those were the stakes he was dealing with in this situation. i don’t think that sirius wanted to kill him, just because that’s not really the sort of thing teenagers do, you know. and, as further evidenced by how he treated kreacher, sirius doesn’t always treat those he considers lesser than him with any sort of respect. maybe sirius just didn’t care that much about whether or not he died. he knew on an intellectual level that he was sending snape to his likely death, but maybe he just didn’t make that calculation in the moment? like sirius was so used to not facing consequences that maybe he thought things wouldn’t turn out that badly. 

i can understand, maybe, in sirius’s version of events, in his own reckless, teenage narrative, that he thought it would be okay to hurt snape. but remus? did he seriously fail to make the calculation that he would be turning him into a murderer? what sirius did was such a major, major trespass of trust/friendship in a way that is actually sort of unforgivable.

doesn’t sirius say in PoA “i’d rather die than betray my friends!” ? well, he did : / he betrayed remus..

and i think that remus would be massively upset and i don’t think he ever really completely forgave him.

when did this happen? 5th or 6th year? i think that by this time remus would kind of be relegated to a state of melodramatic, shame-ridden misery that came along with being sort of in love with sirius. and so the prank really tore him apart, because of course it would. remus was so used to being defined by his lycanthropy, used to facing discrimination, and his friends were his one refuge from that. but then sirius who he loved used him basically as a means to an end. what sirius did was incredibly exploitative— he exploited remus’s marginalized identity for personal gain without thinking about how it would affect him. and i think that remus really did care about him enough to want to forgive him. he probably felt like he had to forgive him (his friends were too important for him to lose, and, importantly, there was probably this feeling of “i am a werewolf and therefore i need to be extraordinarily forgiving in order to be perceived as non threatening, and this is just how the world treats people like me and i can’t and shouldn’t fight back”). and those are just such deeply fucked up feelings to feel towards a friend, especially one you admire and have a major soul crushing crush on.

i think that there was a period of time after the fact when they weren’t really talking, remus was very rightfully upset, everyone was angry at sirius... i think that sirius apologized, but sort of begrudgingly. because twenty years later he still thought that snape got what he deserved. 

at times i think that remus was someone who saw his relationships as very transactional. and initially he felt in debt to the other marauders because of the animagus thing and just because they were his friends. and, as dear @direwolf-summer said in this post, the prank changed the dynamic between remus and sirius: remus was no longer the one in debt, sirius was. and that is such an interesting point. remus starts demanding more from him and he finally feels that, even though sirius was really popular and closer to james or whatever, they were on even standing. this is how he was able to be more forward about his feelings— sirius stopped being this precious object who demanded endless patience in order to retain as a friend (or so he thought, this is remus’s insecurity showing). he stopped feeling so bad about having a crush on sirius. he’d be like “fuck you sirius. i’m in love with you. deal with it and you have to be nice about it in order to repay your debts.” like  he wouldn’t say that out loud but it would be in his internal monologue and he would kinda hint at it. 

there’s that line in eclipse and transit where remus says: “You say one thing and do another and half the time you don’t even try to say it, it’s like, I don’t know, like you’re daring me to leave. And everything—every single thing Sirius, it all comes back to January of sixth year, whether you’ll ever admit it or not. Or whether you even realize it” and i think it’s fitting. during fights remus probably would bring it up, and sirius would fail to understand why remus never got over it. like, sirius: “i apologized i was 15!!” and remus: “this is bigger than just that, what you did was emblematic of your flaws as a person and how even though you understand me more than almost anyone else you still don’t understand me completely and it frustrates me!!! and also i feel like you never fully understood that what you did was extraordinary fucked up.”

and i think that remus was so in love with sirius that he did forgive him, or otherwise allowed his love and affection to forget about it. but it was always bubbling under the surface...and that’s why their relationship was sort of volatile, that’s why he was so willing to believe that sirius was the spy (as in, “he betrayed me, why wouldn’t he have betrayed james and lily?”)

now i’m remembering when, in one of the snape’s memory /pensieve / flashback scenes in OotP, sirius says “i wish it was the full moon” and remus says, darkly, “you might.” now, we don’t know if that scene takes place before or after the Prank (before probably? idk), but i feel like it further compounds the extent to which sirius seems woefully unaware that remus is a werewolf and it’s not something he can separate from himself and that lycanthropy impacts every facet of his life. sirius came to understand it as just some fun thing to do every month. his sort of ignorance towards other people’s needs and experiences is also further evidenced by how he treated harry like he was james. sirius has a pretty good track record of taking other people’s pain and making into something for him to enjoy. and he doesn’t do so in a way that is entirely selfish either, i think he really thought he was helping harry and remus. maybe it all goes back to his family and childhood trauma or something (doesn’t everything? “it all started one afternoon in the 1960s..”)

#i have vague thoughts about other things but that's the extent to which i am capable of articulating my feelings #this is all gibberish isn't it? idk. no tldr im forcing you to read all my illegible brain soup #wolfstar #wolfstar meta #the prank #ask #meta #this is the thing i got done today i guess i'm a genius!!! if i finish my overdue econ ia i will be god!!!!!!! #op

[brattyfics]

Cape Disappointment | Part One

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]

Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.

Warnings: None yet.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone. 

On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.

Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed. 

If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting. 

Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck! 

Pride. 

Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing. 

Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well. 

If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him. 

Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers. 

Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into. 

Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear. 

“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault. 

It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late. 

Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help. 

“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.” 

Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing. 

It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass. 

He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?

His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. 

She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning. 

Tall, fit, well-dressed. 

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” 

A gentleman.

“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”

He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.

“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”

She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at. 

Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking. 

Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively. 

Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls? 

“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.

“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.” 

Hmm. A kindred spirit. 

Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling? 

She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive. 

Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow. 

“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men. 

The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile. 

Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously. 

“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?” 

“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men. 

Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’

Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears. 

“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?” 

It was a great question but she had no answer for him.

Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.

Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came. 

She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.

“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”

“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve. 

She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.

“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”

“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”

He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.

“That certainly would have been more effective.”

Was he serious?

“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”

He had the gall to laugh in her face. 

Hysterically. 

And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him. 

“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched. 

Giggle box.

When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.

So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.

***

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel galindo x black!oc #miguel galindo x reader

[lia-wildfire]

Nosy Superhero Gets Her Backup Privileges Revoked (Whumptober)

The superhero Comet was the best flier in the city, the only one who didn’t need support items to get or stay in the air and wasn’t a villain. Even with her other power of energy beams ...not available to her at the moment (her hands were still so cold) she was capable enough to get by, focusing on rescues and playing support in fights.

The thing about being a superhero was that there wasn’t always someone to fire energy blasts at, but there was always someone who could use the help of someone who could fly. She hadn’t even risen… that much concern or suspicion, probably, since the second power had been taken. Just a look or two when she kept wearing gloves even outside of costume and a couple of comments about how her hands kept shaking. It was fine, anyway, when she was in costume and in her headquarters’ jurisdiction and could rely on backup at any second.

The superhero Comet was not in costume and was not within her headquarters’ jurisdiction. Hailey Park was outside her city’s limits entirely, all of her armored Comet costume was at HQ, and the backup set was in her apartment where her boyfriend had been waiting for their date that night.

She was going to be a little late.

Mildly suspicious activity wasn’t enough to make a call on, but she’d gotten a feeling on the way home, when she saw the truck being loaded across the street. Suspicious truck loading plus a feeling of pure instinct still wasn’t enough to call headquarters or the regular police, and she had told herself she would only follow for a minute to see if they did anything outright illegal or went somewhere completely innocuous and she could call to sheepishly explain that she’d been held up on the date by her own baseless paranoia.

Flying made it easy to move quietly and keep up, and to find the truck again after losing its tail once or twice. (Even though it felt weird to be doing this in sneakers and her boyfriend’s affectionately stolen jacket, without any extra eye protection. At least she knew to keep her mouth shut so she wouldn’t swallow any bugs.)

She’d been following for more than a minute, they had left the city, the sun was going down, and she still couldn’t shake that feeling that something was wrong here. Something familiar about the boxes they’d loaded… she couldn’t get close enough to verify that without being seen herself. Once they were out of city limits, they got moving too fast for her to get a good moment and shoot off a text with more elaboration, she had to keep her eyes on them and stay moving constantly to keep up. (Which sucked, because she was starting to think that the quick [Checking something out, won’t take too long <3] sent an hour ago wasn’t going to cut it at this point.)

They were in another town. She hadn’t caught the name. The truck had pulled into an area that wasn’t quite a parking lot, but also wasn’t small enough for Hailey to want to call an alleyway. Sheltered by buildings on all sides, nowhere high profile enough to have a night guard, just workplaces whose occupants had all gone home by now.

It was behind one of these buildings that Hailey had touched down and leaned as close to the corner as she dared, peeking out through a shadowed area.

The truck’s occupants didn’t seem to be unloading yet, almost as if they were waiting for something. They all seemed pretty distracted talking to each other, and their conversation wasn’t damning outright but it also wasn’t reassuring her. They spoke roughly, though only one of them looked rough enough to match. Whatever was in the boxes was important, somehow, but she couldn’t tell whether they were trading them to someone else, waiting for some kind of signal, or just stopping for the night. It was getting a little late, but they hadn’t been driving for that long since loading up…

“Did you ding up my truck?” rang out louder than everything else, coming from a shorter but muscular woman who had just walked around to the passenger side, where Hailey couldn’t see from her current vantage. The others swarmed to look, several of them taunting the one who seemed second tallest out of the group.

Hailey didn’t like not being able to see them all clearly, but the bonus here was that they couldn’t see her either so she could lean out a little more to get a better look at the boxes, finally catching a glimpse of the symbol on the side of one–

Eyes widening, she heard herself gasp, then drew back immediately and would have scolded herself if it wouldn’t definitely give away her position.

Someone needed to know about this, now.

After a few seconds of holding still, with her heart racing in her ears, it… didn’t sound like anyone had raised an alarm.

Not wanting to risk being heard moving, she floated herself a few steps farther back before taking out her phone, gripping it tightly so her shaking hands wouldn’t drop it again.

Had it not been silenced that whole time? (It was on vibrate, sure, so it wouldn’t be blasting pop lyrics unexpectedly, but she took an extra second to make sure its sound was completely off, and turn down the brightness for good measure.)

The first thing she saw was the last text window, now with several increasingly concerned follow-ups from her boyfriend. Her index finger hovered over the quick call button, but… she couldn’t risk it right now. She’d just hide its light against her shirt, float back to make sure she could still hear a casual conversation, there wasn’t a need to fly straight up and hit the panic switch. She could hide again and start to type, quickly not even fixing the mistakes caused by shaking or by fingertips being a little too cold for the touch screen to read immediately.

(A tiny smile couldn’t help forming when she saw [Hot HotBaby <3 is typing…] pop up on his side of the texts just a few seconds after she started. It was also a relief to know there would be a quick response.)

He knew about her… situation, with her power being “confiscated” and how it had happened, so he would know the urgency of getting this news out just as soon as she could tap out something at least slightly intelligible–

There was a face reflecting behind hers in the darkened glass.

With the phone against her chest again, she jumped forward, turning midair just in time to see something crash down in the space she’d just been occupying.

“Caught a little birdie over here~!” Called out the muscular woman from before, who was perched in a windowsill on the building Hailey had been using for shelter. How had she gotten there so quietly?

The thing that had crashed looked like it was made of the same concrete as this exterior wall. Some kind of material manipulation power? Specifically stone-like materials, or–

Whatever it was, Hailey was getting out of there immediately.

Two things happened before she could get more than an inch or so off the ground: Something heavy slammed into her from behind, and something solid caught around her ankles, trapping them in place. She was able to use the leverage from being stuck to keep from getting completely bowled over, but that would’ve been easier to recover from if she weren’t being held down and kept from getting any altitude. Arms came around and she realized the weight was a person (and that there were now several more people in the alley than there’d been a second ago).

This may have just gone from a situation to a Situation.

Fortunately, she had finely honed reflexes for just this sort of unexpected combat situation. Unfortunately, those reflexes relied on a power that she did not currently have.

Instead of a blast of cyan energy weakening the concrete bonds or making her assailant rethink their current course of action, what she got was a sudden icy numbness shooting from her fingers and palm up through her entire arm as her hand’s shaking intensified. That made it harder to try to wrestle them off manually, especially since she was still reserving one whole arm for protecting her phone and trying to hit the call button without looking.

Things were escalating a little too quickly. She managed to clumsily grab, twist, and throw them off before bending down to pull at the things wrapped around her legs, willing her fingers to keep working through the feeling of being frozen from the inside. (The phone was kept hugged to her chest– the less attention she drew to the light it let out and the attempts she was making to call for backup, the more likely it would be to do something.)

“Think you can break concrete? Good luck with that.”

There was a snort, then someone’s hand in her hair. They got her head pulled back before she could duck to the side and bring her forearm up to knock them away. All but one of the people from the truck was now clustered around her, as casual as if looking at a cool bug someone had found instead of a person who’d just caught them transporting–

“Hey hey wait is that Comet. You got heroes on our tail?”

“No way, Comet would’ve blasted–” The hand was back in her hair and the only reason she hadn’t lost her balance and fallen was that she was technically still flying right now. At least now she was wearing more of a glare than a look of wide-eyed panic. “Holy–”

For the first time, Hailey had a moment of second-guessing her decision to be a more publically open hero.

“Back off or I will start blasting,” she said, straightening up suddenly, and with enough force that there was actually a pause as wary eyes went to her hands… 

And just enough quiet that the pre-call dialing sound could be heard from her phone.

“Shut her up.” Concrete Woman snapped and the group jumped into action.

It wasn’t the most choreographed assault Hailey had ever witnessed or been the target of, but it was still difficult to fight off four people with one arm that refused to respond consistently or register when it was touching something, while stuck to the ground. Before the dialing could finish, she found her arms being wrenched out of her control and someone behind her again with a forearm pressing sharply against her neck. She could get out of this hold if she had both hands free, but she refused to let go of the phone yet, she wasn’t confident enough that she could get out of this without any backup.

When she heard it pick up, the only sound she could get out was a –literally– strangled gasp, to which she felt that chokehold tightening further. None of the others spoke. Through wavering vision, she caught a couple of nods and jerking of heads in lieu of verbal communication.

‘Hailey?’ came the sound of her boyfriend’s worried voice, sparking off a fresh round of struggle as she turned her head and yanked her hand back, trying to get a less dangerous angle in the chokehold so she could get out one word, and trying to keep any of them from hanging up on him before he could hear it.

For her troubles, a hand pressed in over her mouth and nose and someone twisted her arm painfully, digging their nails into her skin, until the phone clattered to the ground.

Some of her muffled cries must have been heard, because she could hear her name being repeated more urgently, then breaking off into something she couldn’t quite catch because either he’d gotten quieter or there was a little too much blood rushing in her head.

Her eyes had been squeezed shut with effort, but even when she opened them everything was getting a lot darker than it really should be, and she was having trouble making sense of what she saw. Having gone still for a second, the hold stopped getting tighter and she was able to make out the rectangular glow, someone had picked it up, then another glow like it was being surrounded by some kind of energy… The form of someone drawing back to throw at maximum strength.

With whatever breath she had left, she screamed against the hand as loudly as she could, cut off after less than a second when it felt like her neck was suddenly crushed.

Voices picked up again as the spot of light sped into the distance and disappeared, but everything was already going black.

#whumptober2021 #no.2 #choking #oc #writing #lady whump #going unconscious #heroes and villains #sssshv #comet #first superpower there is some kind of stonelike material manipulation #the other one is some kind of like telekinesis that specifically encapsulates small objects before they can be yeeted a very long distance #whoever tracks her phone's signal is going to get the wrong area of town #wordcount 2150

[flowerflamestars]

Okay okay I just read your jaw dropping post about how acotar would be with Nesta Under the Mountain and now I’m curious: does Rhys meets Feyre? Cassian and Nesta’s first encounter, how does it goes like? LUCIEN AND AZRIEL SLOW BURN “STRANGERS” TO LOVERS? Nesta wouldn’t be stupid to let her sisters be kidnapped by Hybern, so how do they get changed into Fae? And DO they get changed? I’ve got a thousands questions now

OKAY YES- Nesta Under the Mountain, acomaf remix:

First, I just want to pause to highlight the chaos factor here. What happens after Amarantha and Tamlin die? Rhysand, bound by magical contract and also Dramatique, nopes out, bringing Lucien and Nesta.

And he’s a mess. It’s relief, it’s half a century of unimaginable torture. He needs a bath. He needs to lay in bed for a week before he speaks to another living person. Instead, he takes them to his moonstone palace.

Does he rest? Plan? Go find his friends who are screaming at his mental shields?

No. He gives Nesta and Lucien rooms, and proceeds to have breakfast with them while flirting with Nesta, so he can pretend everything is fine.

To say Nesta is feeling A Lot is an understatement. She has zero Tamlin murder regrets- and many, many, I came back to life and got kidnapped again regrets. She does take a bath. Washes off the blood, braids her hair, tries not to look at her freaky faery face, looks for clothes. Is unimpressed beyond measure at crop top sheer ensembles, and goes looking for Lucien.

Swathed in turquoise silks, doing that thing where he’s grinning but his eyes are flinty and just waiting for the next attack, he’s no better off. The robe in Nesta’s bathroom was a lace confection- the one in Lucien’s in quilted green silk. Nesta wears that.

Is still wearing it, when they show up to breakfast, Rhysand flirts- and because Nesta is an Archeron, she throws a teacup at his head.

(Lucien, beside her, buttering toast: yeah, that doesn’t work on her)

What really happens in acomaf? Love, trauma journey, betrayal. But Tamlin’s dead- and guess what family promptly sails back across the sea to seize power of Spring? Guess. No one is out here calling Nesta the Savior of Prythian. She’s not the mother, she’s the crone. Women love her, men fear her. She’s not the blessing, she’s the punishment.

Morrigan tracks down Rhys, and this is what she finds: 1 autumn prince, wearing a crop top and acidly explaining that he doesn’t give a single fuck if Spring burns. 1 devastating faery lady wearing nothing but a robe. Rhysand, with tea dripping from his hair.

Tears! Reunion! Nes & Luc, exit stage left faced with Emotions.

Nesta doesn’t need to learn to read- and she doesn’t need Rhysand’s fucking help, as she keeps saying, as he keeps doing nice things for her. Fuck off, she says, fixing her hair with the diamond pins that have mysteriously appeared on top of her book. Do not look at me like that, she threatens, catching him grinning at some insanely offensive thing she’s said about Beron.

Rhys likes Nesta. It’s not willing. Nesta...kind of hates Rhys still. Rhys is also still, A Mess- and Nesta just happens to be the sexy project in front of him. 

You didn’t make a deal for me to be a permanent house guest, she tells him.

Morrigan, to herself, a respectable wlw who, you know, met Nesta in a robe and learned ten seconds later she killed a High Lord as a human: PLEASE STAY FOREVER

Rhysand takes them to Velaris.

Lucien is devastated by the prosperity- Nesta goes straight for Rhysand’s throat- you protected one city? Rhysand says, one city, and four people. It’s the closest Nesta ever comes to respecting him, lasts three seconds. 

It takes one night for Nesta and Lucien to vanish. Dangerous and disconcerting for a few reasons- Prythian is singing songs of Nesta, and they’re songs of destruction. Lucien has a price on his head. 

But they’re not courting danger- they’re over the wall. Nesta knows a war is coming, knows she’s painted a target sky high on her back. She leaves letters for her sisters- she’s alive, she can’t come home, she’s sorry, she loves them, please please please be careful- and they spend ten hours straight setting wards around the slumbering Archeron manner.

With his usual sense of good timing, the next morning is when Rhysand trots out his work for me plan.

Hybern wants a war, and Nesta is a weapon. Lucien, who has been a rapid fire, info dump strength been trying to tell Nesta all the shit she needs to know now that she’s a faery, tells him to go to hell. 

Rhys feigns very much like that was uncalled for, unravels a few more layers of the I’m only bad as a ruse lifestyle before their eyes. 

Nesta more or less ignores him, but explains Lucien’s comment for them both: no fealty. No oaths. No games. No more fucking tattoos.

Rhys, eventually, repeats himself: work for me, I’ll pay you, you don’t need to belong.

Nesta demands a contract. Exact terms. Proof of salary. Tells Rhys, casually, that she killed one High Lord human and she’s perfectly willing to try for a second with immortality on her side.

Nesta and Lucien, private contractors. Nesta and Lucien, who also don’t really believe a word Rhysand says.

But then it’s time for dinner. To meet the Court- Nesta repeats Court of Dreams to Lucien with such lofty disbelief he’s still giggling to himself every few minutes when they get to the House of Wind.

A pause, a step back: Cassian. Cas lost his shit when Nesta died- Cassian felt her come back to life- Cassian, who has never met her, has no idea what that means. He’s been rattled around, feeling more than a little crazy- tense, unfocused, walking the streets of Velaris like he forgot something that can never be found- he also didn’t tell anyone.

Nesta Archeron walks into the House of Wind beside Lucien Vanserra, and everything stops.

It’s Rhysand’s stumbling, lightening struck, immediate oh-shit reaction, just on a very different balcony, with circumstance more different that Cassian allows himself to believe.

There she was. There was what he’d been looking for- there she was, taking a glass of wine out of Lucien’s hand.

There’s no personal story time at this dinner. There’s Cassian, dumbstruck, silent, staring. Azriel, whose good manners kick in and make him speak. Lucien, drinking. Nesta treating it like a business meeting and directly trying to establish what everyone’s jobs are.

(Also Nesta, meeting Amren, recognizing her name from fairytales she read trapped in Tamlin’s house: Do you really drink the blood of men?

Amren: Only very, very bad men who ask nicely.

Nesta’s nod in response took years off Cassian’s life.)

Nesta, child of every court. Nesta, who Rhysand keeps comparing to the Courts universal holy objects while she bites her tongue bloody. Locate, read, utilize, steal- Nesta wants it done now, wants to hamstring Hybern before he can set foot on their island.

But research takes time. So Nesta’s learning to be a faery- and breaking a ridiculous amount of things along the way- Lucien is hanging out in her shadow, free as he’s ever been in his entire adult like but also just waiting, waiting, for the axe to fall.

Everyone thinks they’re sleeping together- more importantly, even if they’re not, they’re In Love.

There’s no weaver in the wood moment- because frankly, Rhysand doesn’t want to risk that Nesta will somehow befriend her. Less Rhys in general, because Nesta doesn’t want to spend all that much time with him. 

Nesta is just in Velaris, waiting for the damn job to start. With Lucien. Sometimes Amren, or Morrigan. Often, extremely often, Cassian.

In canon, when they meet, Cassian is all set up to hate her- she didn’t protect her sister, she’s disloyal she’s- all of these terrible things that have to be proven untrue. That clash, that fighting shapes...basically everything.

This Nesta, he has every reason to admire, and it’s killing him. She saved Prythian- she killed a High Lord with her bare hands and knife Cassian wouldn’t want to use to cut an apple. She’s incredible.

She’s also the unfortunate, perfect receptacle for all of Cassian’s self worth issues. He can’t look away, which means she’s not looking. Of course she loves the son of a High Lord, who fought by her side- they survived together, they’re the same species.

So. He’s just going to quietly, miserably, love her forever. But he doesn’t actually talk to her- this is the only Cassian who has ever been quieter than Az- he just can’t. But he’s always there- passing messages from Rhys. Flying her to the House of Wind. Present. 

So he also ends up around when Lucien and Nesta decide to move on from magic training to physical training. 

And Cassian absolutely falls over himself asking to help. To train her. To make her stronger. To maybe, you know, punch him in the face.

The offering goes as badly as can be imagined, all the wrong words and blushing fury. Insulting. A mess.

Nesta does what Nesta does best. Asks him, you’ve trained how much of your own army? Cassians answer is halting but true- yes, yes the Legion’s are his lifes work.

And look, Nesta is mad at the implied insults to her and Lucien both. She’s also mad this asshole who clearly doesn’t want her here, doing the job she was hired to do and has made that clear with the silent treatment, is now intruding on her personal business.

She gets in his face. I’m not an Illyrian. I’m not a man. I will never be a soldier under your command and I don’t need your help.

(the vicious cultural sexism has, in fact, trickled down to Nesta’s knowledge quite easily. She doesn’t know Cassian’s back story.)

The knife sinks oh, so, fucking deep. Cassian who also, has never learned to back down, doesn’t fuck off. So he’s around, brooding and training himself, while Lucien teaches Nesta evil little tricks and how to move like lightening, to use weapons and magic as one.

Nessian keep fighting. Cassian also keeps finding every even slightly plausible excuse to be in her company-because now she’s looking at him.

So what, if she’ll never love him back? So what, if fucking Lucien Vanserra who flirts with everything that moves somehow earned her loyalty? Cassian is never-will never- judge or undermine her choices. Never.

He just wants to be around. To speak to her every day. So what, if the angst is burning him alive?

Interlude: the Summer Court. Rhys and Nesta go alone. 

Nesta likes Tarquin. Tarquin...is kind of more afraid of Nesta than Rhys. There’s no flirty montage, Nesta goes to hang out with Cresseida. Knows her for about a day, comes to understanding that Cresseida was the one who held Summer together under Amarantha.

Nesta tells Cresseida everything. Hybern’s coming back, they’re already making plays. They want the Cauldron, but control can be stolen with the Book. Rhysand thinks I can read it- all I want is Hybern dead.

It is, in the end, compelling. Helped along by the fact Nesta peppers in that Rhys isn’t going to ask.

There’s a fight, a battle, conditions: in the end Tarquin gives the book to Nesta. Only Nesta. For Rhys, this still works- for the Summer Court, the distinction is important. Nesta Archeron, Cauldron-blessed, the Sword of Prythian, will wield the book.

Not the blessing, the punishment.

Rhys says something very Rhys, and Nesta leaves. They’re winnowing to the same place, she can now, it doesn’t matter- but what matters is this: Nesta goes back to the House of Wind, and runs into Cassian.

She’s just carrying half the book- like that isn’t an insane, miraculous thing, and Cassian congratulates her, without saying anything stupid. 

But then Nesta sprawls down in a window seat, and starts looking at the book.

(Cassian is GOING THROUGH IT. he thought being around her was bad? Knowing she’s in another court where he can’t make sure she’s safe or okay or not having a bad day made him LOSE HIS MIND)

Which is fully what he blames for the fact that Cassian also, does not leave. Crosses his arms. Leans in the doorway like it doesn’t matter. Asks, like a moron, why Nesta isn’t looking for Lucien.

(Cassian to Cassian: SHE WAS GONE DAYS- SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT? WHERE IS THE CARE? THE CONCERN? THE- LUCIEN WAS AT A BAR WITH AZRIEL LAST NIGHT)

Nesta: No, I’ll see him later.

Cassian: Reunions...are important. The war is going to come faster than any of us think.

Nesta: I know?? that’s why I just spent a week in fucking sand- I’m doing my job-

Cassian: We all have so little time-

Nesta: You think I don’t know that??

Cassian: I just. I don’t understand- you have options. You have the entire world. You are the entire world, and you deserve-

Nesta: What. Exactly. Do you think I deserve?

Cassian, miserably ferocious: someone waiting when you come home. from battle. from stupid shit Rhys makes you do. You deserve everything.

Nesta, rising from the window seat, walking across the room: You’re here.

Cassian:

Nesta, rolling her eyes as she sweeps past and away: You. Were here. When I got back.

I’m going to cut this here and then post a part two! Thank you so much for asking, stay tuned :)

[yavannah]

Possible The Sims 4 challenge idea

I found old notebooks from a time when I was still playing the Sims 2 game and in it I once tried to play with multiple players together in a Legacy challenge. The site was radosims.com, but unfortunately that site / forum no longer exists. 

But now I got the idea to put here what I myself came up with and remembered this challenge. It’s not even radosims challenges at first, but I guess you’ll find it on some other Sims site too. I don't even remember if it was Mod the Sims or some other similar site. 

So the rules and guidelines can be, to put it mildly, confusing, because I don’t fully remember them myself, and it’s actually been quite a long time since I tried this challenge. I thought that with The Sims 4 it could be easier when the challenge sim can be shared through the gallery if needed.

But here come the whole thing. Tell me what you think. :)

Let's play together Legacy challenge 

That name may not be right, but I had to come up with a descriptive title, so that’s what it is now. Sure, you can fix me and tell me what it really was. 

That is, the idea is to play one Sims family among multiple players as if in a Legacy challenge.

Of course, everyone has so-called artistic freedom and every time the sim moves to the next player it is sent without the downloaded cc, of course everyone gets to use their own downloaded cc and only the defaults could make an exception, even if they don't come, but each player changes own defaults or the game's own genetics/outfits, etc. 

The number of generations, on the other hand, can go according to how many players are involved in the challenge, or a certain number is agreed between the players, even if it's a traditional ten generations, or played as long as there is enough enthusiasm and players. 

That is, one sim is created initially, gender and sexual orientation do not matter as long as the sim has genetic offspring. The beginner age could be a teenager-young adult or an adult. 

Simi should be a basic sim anyway, but of course it can be a special sim (alien / witch / vampire / mermaid) if agreed between the players and if other players have special add-ons that require special sims (Get to work/Realm of Magic/Dream Islands/Vampires). 

If not, then we will stay with the basics and we can even develop something for sim that must be passed on to Sim’s descendants. Eye color etc. 

And in order for this to remain a bit interesting, as I mentioned at the beginning, the players have so-called artistic freedom and everyone should be able to create some kind of story for their own generation if they so wish. But of course you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to or can’t. 

Once the sim of the gaming generation has found a spouse and had children, then as the children grow into teenagers, a choice can be made as to which of the children will be able to continue the family. 

It can be done even with a so-called vote among all the players and why not the story among the next and the teen sim who got the most votes moves on to the next player. Admittedly, I was wondering here whether the whole family could be moved with the same effort, so the sim's memories would not disappear, but that too would probably be reconcilable between the players. 

And with the scores you actually played (if you want to count your points) it would go exactly according to the rules of the basic Legacy challenge. That is, initially a suitable amount that the sim can move to a suitable lot and even get the basics. 

Of course if you have a university, then you can start from university and then after completing it move to live on the lot of your choice or if you want an extreme start on such a sim lot and only necessary, money to zero and the plot to feature off the range. 

And a sim can only remove this feature when sim has received, for example, a certain number of handiness points in dexterity, as well as a certain amount of money.

Oh and the sims are only allowed to marry the non-playable sims in the game. I recommend not trying your luck with Mrs. Crumplebottom, she’s not very romantic in nature and she’s especially reluctant to hit everyone with her handbag. 

But kids made with ready-made sims might be allowed, but that the sims of the finished families must not change the challenge to Sim's plot, nor the challenges sim must move to their plots. Challenge sims can be related to these sims, depending of course on what kind of goal the challenge sims have. 

Of course, each player has a great deal of freedom to wear and make-up the sim to their liking on their own turn, but the character traits and goals set for the sim before sending, as well as genetic traits (eye, skin and hair colors) must be maintained. Of course, this also depends on what add-ons, sets, packs and possible downloads, etc. each have their own use. 

And if you use some special mods, then of course it would be advisable to mention them to other players as well, so as not to wonder why some things can or cannot be done in your own game. 

Oh yeah, and I'm thinking that if necessary, the plot could also be shared either compressed into a Zip/Rar file (whatever you want to share, simsfileshare, Dropbox, etc.) or through the gallery. The gallery could be the easiest and most direct. 

Although I fully understand if someone is not willing to share their own gallery name/nickname with everyone else. 

And the challenge is done/completed when the agreed number of generations is reached. Until then, it’s meant to be fun. 

In general, according to the Legacy challenge, cheat codes are prohibited, but in some cases they may be allowed. At least in the beginning, when you are supposed to get a sim on the desired plot and deduct money when everything necessary is acquired. I suggest using an already vacant plot. 

Admittedly, when using the largest lot of land in New Crest, it must be remembered that after a long period of use of that lot, it may begin to badly bugging, so that you are living there at your own risk. 

And of course, sim is allowed to have adventures outside the lot, to attend festivals and community lots, otherwise it would be impossible for sim to face potential spouse candidates. 

It is up to everyone to decide whether or not to take money out of their sim for each trip to the community lots. 

A sim can only go on holiday (for holiday plots if you have those add-ons at your disposal) when the sim has enough money and the sim is work, of course, and a relatively decent house to live in. 

That is, nothing but happy game moments for everyone. :)

I know, looks terribly confusing, so sorry about that. English is not my home language and anyway, the whole thing was written according to what ideas came to my mind and how I remembered to play that challenge. 

You can definitely suggest your own ideas and correct me if I have made typos or if there is something wrong or otherwise confusing in the rules. 

So now I will let you have your own views on this. I definitely want to know if this would be feasible in The Sims 4.

#the sims 4 #challenge #idea

[thereluctantinquisitor]

OC Kiss Week 21

I arrive with a humble entry, dedicated to my lovely @frenchy-and-the-sea. Thank you for letting me borrow one of your Seven Cities characters!

This turned out a lot longer than expected because of who I am as a person. Anyway I hope you like it, and I apologise in advance for any wild inconsistencies with the Captain of my Heart and Soul.

~2000 words, original fiction (a hearty blend of Stonebreaker and Seven Cities)

                _______________________________

There weren’t a lot of things to be said about sailors. Well, other than the conclusive fact that they were all utterly insane. But there was something about that cocksure Captain Alex, with her big hat and big ego to fill it, that had been keeping Sylda up later and later into the night. Before, she would just lie in her makeshift pallet, entertaining increasingly ridiculous ideas; the kind that scythed their way through her skull to the rhythm of the rocking ship. This time, partly out of desperation, she had opted for the aid of fresh air to clear her mind.

Perched on the wooden taffrail, her gaze - and left leg - swung out over the ocean’s dark oblivion. For the first time in over a week, she was finally alone. Thinking.

Just... thinking.

How Delver had managed to find them passage on a remotely seaworthy vessel was nothing short of a miracle. Sylda hadn’t asked any questions - she certainly knew better than to look the proverbial horse in the mouth. But the fact that they hadn’t been gutted and keelhauled the second they lost sight of land still hadn’t quite sunk in. She’d heard stories about the mad seafarers of the east. About their obsession with dark water. About their greed and cold steel. About the way they used people as bait to lure creatures from the deep... 

Well, she supposed she should be grateful they hadn’t ended up on one of those vessels. Delver was a lot of irritating things, but at least a decent judge of character appeared to be one of them.

The sound of a door suddenly creaking open earned a carefully languid glance, the motion at utter odds with the lurch of surprise in Sylda’s stomach. Relax, she chided herself. This wasn’t some ale-soaked back alley. It was probably one of those twins - Fin or Din or something - wandering out to take a piss.

Her rational side’s attempt to assert dominance crumbled the second she realised who had actually stepped out onto the afterdeck.

“Captain Sheffield.” Sylda wasn’t about to snap to attention, but she gave Alex what she felt was a suitably deferential nod. “It’s a nice night. Out for a stroll?”

Alex’s nose wrinkled slightly. “Some fresh air, more like. Not much strolling to be had back here.”

That was true enough. There were far better options for an evening walk than the stern, after all. Letting the door swing shut behind her, Alex groaned softly and moved forward, hands on her lower back, stretching as she went. From her vantage, Sylda swore the line of Alex’s spine had fixed itself into a slight bow, ready at any moment to diligently curve itself over a desk. Whatever she and Delver had been up to, it seemed to have gone far longer and far later than expected. He probably drove her half-way mad, rambling on the way he does, she thought, smiling slightly to herself. At least someone else got to experience the uniquely infuriating pleasure of his company.

As quickly as the smile arrived, she shooed it away with a start. No - she would rather die than admit to even an ounce of fondness for the insufferable man. He was a means to an end, and she was exactly the same thing for him. That knowledge - that truth - had served them well over the seasons.

A sharp clearing of the throat pulled Sylda from her thoughts. Alex had stopped a few steps from the door, and something about the hawk-like intensity of her gaze made Sylda feel very much like a mouse on a platter. “Do me a favour,” Alex began slowly, as though each of her words required careful and deliberate measuring. “If you’re plannin’ on tipping yourself into the sea, kindly do so when I’m not close enough to feel obliged to go in after you.”

That startled a laugh out of Sylda. “Oh? Is that something captains do?” When Alex’s stern expression didn’t waver, she cocked her head and smiled. “C’mon - don’t give me that look. Are you trying to tell me that daring rescues aren’t actually part of the job description?”

It took a moment before Alex responded, and when she did, it was strangely like a confession. “It’s... more a personal habit than a demand of the position.” She snorted softly. “An unfortunate one at times, if you ask Tahir. Reckon that particular impulse has had a fair hand in turning him grey over the years.” The brief moment of levity, however, vanished as quickly as it arrived. “But let me be clear; I've no intention of feeling guilty tonight.”

There was no mistaking the unspoken command. And frankly, with those piercing eyes leveled at her, Sylda didn’t feel particularly keen to risk disobedience. That was a strange thing all by itself. Divider, she’d cussed out bandits with a knife to her neck - spat in the face of guards hauling her off for a week in the pit. But now, she found herself sighing and swinging both her legs ship-side. Without even a trace of her usual malicious compliance, she slid smoothly until her feet were pressed safely to the wooden deck. “Well, I wouldn’t want to cause you any grief, Captain.” Her eyes flicked up and she flashed a half-smile. “You know, I’ve actually got a pretty steady set of legs under me. Been running rooftops since I was tall as your waist.”

“That so?” Alex folded her arms, but something about her posture had shifted. Loosened. “Well, when rooftops start pitching in a swell, make sure you pass on word. I’m sure plenty of folk will be keen to know another viable application for their sea legs.”

“Alright, alright. Point taken. I’ll keep my arse off the rails.” Still chuckling, Sylda turned, leaning her forearms on the lacquered wood instead. “Can’t imagine a stiller night than this one, though. Can a ship even move in this?”

The sound of boots against the deck heralded Alex’s approach. Arriving beside her, the Captain mirrored her pose, allowing her weary back to settle into a more familiar position. “Aye, it can, but not at any particular speed.” She motioned at something in the dark, her finger tracing a line over the water. “The current here runs south-east. We’ll just let her drift in that direction until the wind picks up.”

“That won’t take us off-course?”

Alex shrugged. “Not far enough to be worried, unless we’re becalmed for days on end. But I can’t say I’ve had that happen out here. The Pale’s not a quiet sea. This is...”

Alex trailed off, closing her eyes, as though to better feel the strange stillness. There was no real need for her to finish her sentence; Sylda simply allowed herself to lapse into the same peaceful silence. The sound of the water lapping against the hull was a soothing rhythm for tired souls. It had been a long few weeks. Seasons, even, if she were being truly honest.

“Hey... can I admit something?” Sylda eventually asked. That, it seemed, piqued Alex’s curiosity. The Captain turned away from the water, arching a brow to indicate her approval. Maybe even her curiosity, if Sylda felt like flattering herself. “Coming out here,” she continued, “out on the open water... it kinda scared the shit out of me.”

To her surprise, Alex snorted. “And here I thought you’d be telling me something I didn’t guess the first hour out of port.”

Sylda cringed. “Was it that obvious?”

“Finn reckoned you were wound tighter than a tenday clock.”

Groaning theatrically, Sylda made a show of hanging her head. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. At least I kept all my meals down.” They shared a glance at that, and twin smiles slowly spread across their faces. Who would have thought that the image of Delver, green-faced and dramatically clinging to the rail, could actually bring people together? For a moment, Sylda almost forgot where she was. Who she was with. It was like being back in Yelen. Back in the Nest, sitting across from someone she knew. Someone she trusted. Respected, even. Someone with eyes of steel and a liberal dusting of freckles.

Someone she might just want to lean towards and...

As quickly as the feeling had taken her, Sylda remembered that everything she knew about Alex Sheffield could comfortably fit into a thimble - with her thumb already in it - and the smile drifted away. Clearing her throat, she did her best to hide her burning cheeks, turning back towards the quiet, dark ocean. The Pale. An ironic name if ever there was one. “Anyway... I heard a lot of stories. About the deep water. I’m not sure if any of them are true, but they were enough to convince me I wouldn’t let myself anywhere near it. Just in case.”

Alex turned as well, the folds of her shirt shifting softly as she leaned backwards against the rail, her weight resting on her elbows. With the stillness of the night and her head tipped slightly skyward, Sylda couldn’t help but picture Alex as a kind of statue, her sight forever set on the stars. She supposed anyone willing to sail the open water had to be a bit like that. A bit in love with things distant and unknown.

“But, despite it all, here you are,” Alex said after a moment. Her voice was suddenly soft. Thoughtful. Somehow, Sylda got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t just talking about her anymore. That was alright. It was a night for quiet contemplation, apparently. That could be nice, sometimes. Calming.

Leaning into the moment, Sylda exhaled slowly, feeling her shoulders dip. Feeling the weight of her feet pressing against the deck, of her arms on the rail. “But here I am,” she replied, then playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Fuck me, right?”

Alex snorted. Confused, Sylda turned to discern the source of her amusement, and when it hit her a half-second later, she let out suffering groan. “Oh come on. You’re better than that.”

“Am I? You’ve seen the kind of company I keep.”

It was Sylda’s turn to laugh. “Okay then, maybe not. But if we could side-step the gutter for a moment, I’d like it known to you and anyone eavesdropping nearby that I expect at least a kiss first.”

“That so?” A gentle breeze stirred - just enough to tease the curling locks framing Alex’s face - before quickly falling away again. For a second, Sylda’s words stuck in her throat, and she realised just how close they were. Just how alone they were.

Then the playful gleam in Alex’s eyes - as though she somehow knew exactly what she was doing her - tugged Sylda back to the present.

“What can I say? I’m an old fashioned kinda gal.” Sighing in mimicry of the high class ladies whose purses she liked to pluck, Sylda arched her back and mimed demurely fanning her bosom. “I require courting.”

“Really?” Alex raised a brow, her lips twisting in what Sylda quietly hoped was amusement. “With just a kiss?”

Sylda grinned and mimed tossing the fan into the sea.

“Well, I never said a lot of courting.”

Laughter seemed to carry further on still nights. It was as though, in the absence of wind, it sought to fill the sails all by itself. For the first time since leaving port, Sylda felt lighter. Not without burdens - never that light. But at least, for a few moments, she could flit and flirt and pretend it was something a person like her just got to do. Without guilt. Without worrying about all the things standing in her way. About all the ways she would inevitably fall short.

And for her part, Alex proved surprisingly open to the game. Maybe it was just because she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual. Despite her curiosity, Sylda hadn’t expected to even catch the Captain alone, yet alone rope her into a starlit conversation. After all, she knew - acutely well - how much of a time-siphon Delver could be. Particularly when his passions were piqued. It was a miracle he hadn’t shackled himself to Alex’s ankle like the ball and chain he was.

No. That's not fair. Closing her eyes, Sylda pulled in a long, slow breath. When she opened them again, Alex was regarding her quietly, her arms folded once more, her head cocked ever so slightly. Sylda knew when someone was sizing her up, but this... well, it wasn’t quite the same. A step to the left of it, perhaps, where she knew something was being measured, but she just wasn’t sure what.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Sylda asked eventually. Alex blinked, then reasserted herself, her arms unfolding as she hummed and levered herself from the rail.

“Just committing some things to memory. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

At that, it was Sylda’s turn to arch a brow. “Oh?” She reached up absently, her fingers twisting the ends of her hair as Alex smirked and headed back towards the door. Then, finally, she decided to be brave. “Well, before you head off, here’s another thing for your memory. I wouldn’t mind, ah... worrying myself.” She paused, then hastily added, “Over it. That.”

She swore she heard someone snort from somewhere in the rigging, but she was already too mortified to pay it any real heed. Well, that was smooth as fucking gravel, Sylda thought, cringing inwardly. It took everything in her power not to flip herself over the rail and into the sea. Idiot. This is why you don’t do this. This is why...

Again, maybe it was the product of weariness, or perhaps the strange stillness of the night, but Alex Sheffield, Captain of the Ranger, actually turned back. Her hand rested on the carefully carved doorknob. Her hair, untouched by wind, curled loosely at its ends.

“Well,” she said, then graced her with a quick, sly smile. One that went straight to Sylda’s knees. “Suppose I’ll go ahead and add that, too.”

#OC kiss week 21 #dskjadsjakld I APOLOGISE FOR THE LONG #this is what happens when i type directly into tumblr drafts and dont have a word count to keep me humble lol #alex sheffield #sylda #other people's ocs #reluctant writes #<3 #Frenchy-and-the-sea #sylda has a bit of a crush okay? and she is Not Coping lol #someone save her from herself

[lonelyghosts-stuff]

Chapter 2: Dead Man Walking

Word Count: 2186

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Master List

Warnings: None

The brunette who took out the guard next to here revealed herself to be Agent Maria Hill. After briefly introducing herself, she pulled out a laser cutter device and proceeded to quickly cut a large hole through the floor of the transport vehicle you all were in. When the car came to a momentary stop, the five of you slipped out through the hole and made your getaway to another vehicle on the side of the road that was awaiting you. Without hesitation, you followed them into the car, taking a seat.

Thousands of thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to get some semblance of an understanding of what just happened. Panic and pain dominated your mind as you began to fixate on the injury to your shoulder. You tried to think slowly and thoughtfully, trying to comprehend everything that happened, anything to distract you from the pain. It wasn’t so much of the physical pain in your shoulder that hurt, but the overwhelming confusion and panic that was bearing down on your subconscious. You began questioning yourself and your decisions.

‘Why did I do that?’

‘Why did I try to be a hero?’

‘Why didn’t I just trust that Captain America had it under control?’

‘Why am I here?’

‘What’s going to happen to me?’

‘Where are we go-’

Your train of thought was suddenly cut off as you felt the car stop. Stepping outside, you realized you were parked outside of a large dam in a forested area. You followed the others out of the car and towards a metal, barred door that led into the inside of the dam’s facility; Captain America was assisting the redhead to walk as she clearly was in more pain than you could ever relate to. You felt as if you were going through an out of body experience, feeling like you had no control over your legs as they made you follow along. It was almost as if your brain was telling you that it was too late to turn back now.

Once inside the dark, damp innards of the dam, a man started to run to you guys, alert and awaiting confirmation.

Agent Hill quickly informed the man of the redheads and your conditions. “GSW, Natasha has lost at least a pint.”

“Maybe two.” Sam added, concern lacing his voice.

“This one doesn’t appear to be too hurt, but she’s clearly very shaken.” Agent Hill gestured to you.

“Let me take them!” The man responded in a helpful, but serious tone.

Before you could respond, Agent Hill did and held the man off briefly. “She’ll want to see him first.”

Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, you sucked it up and suppressed the pain and panic and followed Agent Hill as she led Captain America, Sam, you, and the now identified Natasha, into another room. Once you stepped into the room you saw a man with dark skin and an eye patch over his left eye lying in a hospital bed.

To your surprise, given the nature of the situation this man appeared to be in, he snarked, “About damn time.”

After settling down and having people attend to yours and Natasha’s injuries, the man (revealed to be called Director Nick Fury by the man caring for your shoulder) went on to describe the numerous injuries he has as well as the fact that he faked his death using something called Tetrodotoxin B which slowed his heartbeat down to one beat per minute. You got patched up and continued to listen to what Nick Fury had to say; seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you figured you might as well commit all the way.

You were filled in on the situation (some information was clearly omitted, not to your surprise as the whole thing seemed very confidential) as well as more formally introduced to the others on a name basis. The organization S.H.I.E.L.D has been compromised as members of a terrorist organization known as HYDRA have infiltrated and gained power within. Additionally, you learned about a project called ‘Project Insight’ made in order to take out threats to society before they could occur by the means of weaponized helicarriers and DNA and psychological evaluations and algorithms used as a targeting system. Under the influence of HYDRA, the project was planned to commence soon, something that would result in the deaths of thousands upon millions of people. While the group continued to converse, discussing what to be done, you backed into the corner of the room. Your whole reality felt like it was crashing down on you and that you were sinking. If this was something that had even Captain America nervous, it must be serious.

“Y/n,” Natasha gently yet sternly said, snapping you back into focus. “Are you okay? I mean, you didn’t even really have anything to do with this.”

“I...I’m not sure. I don’t know how I could be of any use-but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go now. They-whoever they are-know my face now. If I tried to back out of this, I’d just be walking into a trap or something.” You breathed, shakily. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you felt more and more overwhelmed with each second that passed.

“Sorry to break it to you, but even if you don’t help us directly, we wouldn’t exactly be able to just let you walk out of here anyways.” Nick Fury added. “You know too much about this whole situation, as a civilian no less, to just let you get out of here at the moment.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you felt a lump in your throat form. You hadn’t even thought about that; even if they do manage to take down HYDRA and stop the helicarriers, there’s no saying that you’ll be free to go. The gaze of the other fell hot and heavy on your skin as they awaited your response.

“Nick, we can’t just keep her here like a prisoner… And we sure as hell can’t force her to join us!” Nat abruptly shouted as she stood, wincing a moment as she grasped her shoulder.

“Well that’s too damn bad.” Nick stood, “But unfortunately for her, she’s gonna have to stick around until at least we fix this situation.”

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off as you stood up as well. “He’s right, Ms. Romanoff. I can’t just go back out there. I’d be a sitting duck. Besides, who would I be to say no to helping the Captain America?” A strange and sudden surge of confidence filled you. You couldn’t even believe the words coming out of your own mouth and, based on the facial expressions the others made, they certainly weren’t expecting it either.

“Y/n, firstly, you can call me Natasha or Nat. Secondly, what do you think you’re doing? You can’t possibly be thinking of putting yourself at even more risk?” Natasha blurted.

“Yea, and you’re not really the ‘soldier’ type. You’d only get yourself killed. And I don’t want that.” Captain America, or Steve Rogers, added with a hint of solemnity.

“I mean, she did put up a pretty good fight on the overpass.” Sam chimed in with a snarky and mischievous smile plastered on his face. “And you better believe I’m coming to help too! Pass up an opportunity to help Captain America? I’d have to be even dumber than those HYDRA bastards.”

The room fell deathly silent for a moment as the look of deep thought took place on everyone’s faces. You fidgeted in place, nervous about what they were going to say, nervous about what would happen to you in either situation, nervous about the situation overall with the looming threat of weaponized helicarriers, and nervous about what kind of support you could even provide.

“Fine. Help if you want. But I can assure you no responsibility for anything that may or may not happen to you will fall on me.” Nick Fury finally responded, breaking the silence.

Steve looked as if he was about to object, but he instead held his tongue, turning to instead give you a grateful, yet concerned smile. Immediately, the air was filled with the sounds of planning. Nick Fury had three, large computer chips in a case that he displayed to all of you. Agent Hill went on to explain that, in order to prevent the helicarriers from being able to reign down their terror, each one would need to be infiltrated and have one of the chips inserted into the main system drive of each ship, disconnecting HYDRA’s control over them.

After the plan was set, you all had some breather time. Steve went outside for some fresh air, followed by Sam, while you remained inside to talk to Natasha.

“Hey Ms. Roma-I mean, Natasha.” You approached Natasha when she was on her own. “I was wondering if you could, maybe, just if you’re willing, to possibly… give me some pointers? I know you can’t give me the full training deal or anything with this limited time but… I want to be as useful as I can. If I’m going to get taken down, I don’t want to go down easily.”

A caring and gentle smile appeared on Natasha’s face, “Yea, sure. But before I show you anything, you have to tell me. Why are you so set on doing this? I mean, first you randomly jumped into a fight that wasn’t even your own, but now you’re going in further to infiltrate a high security compound to help take down a terrorist group. What’s your motivation?”

“I-I…” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know… I mean, I kinda do I guess? Okay, um, let me start from the beginning. Back in 2012, my whole world was shaken. I mean, it turns out, aliens and Norse gods exist apparently. And some aliens and one particular Norse god really had it out for us. I was on a trip in Stuttgart, Germany to visit an old friend of mine when he, or… well, Loki, appeared. I was in that crowd he had boxed in. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare. When he commanded us to kneel, I hesitated. I didn’t want to give in to some random dictator, but then he shouted it, and I caved in.” You hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“After a little while, one, elderly man stood up, right next to me. He said he would not bow to men like Loki. I wanted to stand up too and remain strong, but I couldn’t move my legs. It’s like they were made of jelly.” As you continued recounting your experience, Natasha simply nodded, listening intently.

“That’s when Loki aimed his spear, scepter, thing, right at him. He said he was going to make an example out of him and a bright blue light began forming at the end of the scepter and then… well, and then he fired it right at the man. I was right there and I felt the power of it rushing towards us. I was too close to the man, I was going to get hit too. Right then, my life flashed before my eyes as I was paralyzed with fear. Suddenly, Captain America jumps down right in front of us, deflecting the beam right back at Loki with his shield.” Tears threatened to spill over your eyes, but you held them back to continue.

“He saved my life. Mine and many others. I was frozen there, in awe and fear at the same time. When the people started scattering, I stayed there. I felt so weak in comparison, I felt like I didn’t deserve for him to have saved me, seeing how cowardly I am. When he began fighting Loki, I suddenly snapped back into reality and ran to a safe distance from which I watched him fight. Even when Loki seemed to have the upper hand, Captain America never gave in. He fought until Iron Man showed up and together they took him down. Something changed in me that day. I resolved to never be the one who just stands to the side while others do the work, or to never be so helpless and in need of rescue. I got registered to carry a gun for self defense and I also took classes in self defense for the past year and a half. I mean, I’m no super soldier or fighter like you, but I can handle my own at least for a short time. I just feel like I need to help. Not only to make it up to Captain America, but to just do something, anything I can to help people in general.” You took a deep breath as you tried to calm your heartbeat down after revealing your story to Natasha.

“Well…” Natasha started as she placed a hand on your back, “guess we better get started on some training and practice!”

#winter soldier #avengers #captain america #fan fiction #fanfic #bucky fanfic #steve rogers #sam #falcon #falcon and the winter soldier #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 6

David x Patrick, 18k so far, M, A03. 

Summary:  An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 6

They’re in the car, on their way to physical therapy, when Patrick abruptly turns off the radio.  “I need to tell you something.”

After their too short but still satisfying make-out session earlier this morning David doesn’t think Patrick’s about to ask for a divorce or anything, but it still doesn’t sound good.

“Okay,” he says, glancing over at Patrick, who is looking determinedly out the front window.  “What’s up?”

“I haven’t been going to physical therapy.”

This is patently untrue.  “Um, yes you have, I’ve been driving you there.”

“Yeah, but…” Patrick taps his hand on his knee.  “I haven’t kept the appointments.”

“What, exactly, do you do after I drop you off?”  Patrick has insisted on going inside by himself, and David has been spending the hour systematically trying out every half-decent coffee place in a five-mile radius from the hospital.

“I sit in the cafeteria.”

This is a strange revelation, and David takes a long breath, trying to keep an open mind.   

He slows down and pulls over.  One good thing about living in the sticks, there’s always a place to pull off the road.  He tries to focus on a practical response, while his mind spins.  “Okay, then… there’s not much point to this trip.  It’s certainly not worth going to Elmdale for the coffee.  Should we go home?”

Patrick looks at him.  “You’re not mad?”

David does a quick mental inventory to be sure.  He’s not mad.  He’s confused, and actually a little impressed with Patrick’s out of character refusal to color within the lines, as ridiculous as that is.  “Nope.  Your body, your decision.  Thank you for telling me.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

David sighs, leaning his head back.  “Of course I do.  I want to know everything.”

“I’m not sure I can really tell you.”

<i>Then why did you ask?</i>  David thinks.  “Mkay.”

Patrick just sighs miserably.

“Ronnie thinks we’re going to break up,” David says, not sure where this comes from – it has been spinning around in his head all morning, but it seems like a non sequitur.

“Because we can’t talk to each other?”  Patrick asks, and yeah, that’s how it fits in.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you think that?”  Patrick asks.  He looks small, and scared, and just as lost as David feels.  

David thinks maybe it’s time to bring up the elephant in the room.  “You know, there’s a thing couples do sometimes, when they’re having…”

“Problems?” Patrick suggests.  

“Challenges.”  

“You think we should go to counseling?”

David has been considering it.  On the one hand, he’s not really interested in sitting on a couch with Patrick while some old white guy picks apart their relationship.  On other hand, he’s really not interested in any universe where he and Patrick no longer sit on the same couch, so giving counseling a try is a risk he’s willing to take.

“Yes.”

Patrick breathes out slowly.  “Okay.  Then take me to PT.  I don’t want to have to tell the counselor that I blew off another physical therapy session.”

*****

David has a feeling that Alexis convinces Dr. Lee to pull some strings, because they get an appointment with a couples’ counselor a few days later.

Margo is young, probably even younger than Patrick, and has several earrings in each ear.  She’s not at all what David expected.  Further, she’s quick and witty, and seems to understand what’s going on with them right from the start.

“Unfortunately, it’s not unusual to go through a period of depression after a trauma,” she says to Patrick, who looks like he’s ready to jump out of his skin.  “Or for situational depression to have a detrimental effect on a relationship, especially where your partner is doing the lion’s share of the caregiving.”  She goes on in this vein for a while until they are both calm enough to hear it, and encourages them to talk to each other after the session about what has been discussed.

But for all that things have been going better between them, they still can’t seem to delve into this stuff outside of Margo’s office.  

At their next session, Margo asks them how their follow-up conversation went.

David tries to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but Margo calls him on it anyway.

“If we had been able to talk about it with each other we wouldn’t be here,” he says, trying to keep his voice light.

“Do you agree, Patrick?”

Patrick’s gaze has been firmly fixed on his hands since they arrived.

“I don’t know if talking about it will help,” he says finally.  “I’m still…”. Patrick waves his hand vaguely at his legs.  “Talking about it won’t change what happened.”

“But would knowing how David is feeling about it, how he’s feeling about you, and sharing your feelings with him, possibly affect your feelings and your mood?”

Patrick glances up at David, who tries to smile at him despite the inner terror he’s feeling.  “I guess.”

David reaches over and grabs Patrick’s hand, trying to figure out the right thing to say.  “I know the situation sucks, but you’re doing better all the time.”  He looks at Margo and then back at Patrick.  It’s awkward as hell, but David’s dealt with awkward before.  “I love you, Patrick.”  

Patrick remains silent.  It makes David feel a little ill, to get no response at all to this.

David turns in towards Patrick, trying to block out his view of Margo.  “Hey,” he whispers.  “What’s going on?  What do you need?”

A tear rolls down Patrick’s cheek, and David just sits there, momentarily paralyzed.  This Patrick is so far away from the Patrick he knows, his confident, competent husband, and it scares him.  David reaches out and puts his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, pressing Patrick’s head against his cheek.  Patrick grabs him and squeezes back, hard, his face against David’s collarbone.  This is good, David thinks, he said he likes it when I hug him.  I can at least do this.  He drops a kiss above Patrick’s ear, right by his scar, and holds on.

“This kind of thing can be hard to articulate,” Margo says.  “Patrick, will you try to think about David’s question?”

Patrick straightens up and nods, wiping his face, and they move on to other topics.  Margo asks David about how they are doing at home, taking the attention off of Patrick for a few minutes.  Patrick chimes in after a while to talk about how he’s figured out how to coordinate with Johnny on the books for the store, doing some of the work himself and showing Johnny how to use his spreadsheets; David doesn’t mention how Patrick curses at the laptop when his hands get tired, or pretends that it’s fine when vendors leave him off their emails to David.

They don’t return to the topic of Patrick’s distress, but Patrick keeps a grip on David’s hand for the rest of the session.  David doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but at least it seems like Patrick wants him there for it, whatever it might be.

******

“My parents want to come visit,” Patrick announces one night over dinner.  

David finishes his last bite of crab Rangoon.  “When?  I’ll reserve a room at the motel.”

“I didn’t say they were coming,” Patrick answers.

“Okay, that’s fine.”  

Patrick blinks at him.  Apparently he expected an argument.  “You don’t think they should come?”

“Well, they’re your parents.  And god knows I know what it’s like to want a little distance between oneself and one’s parents.”

“My mom keeps emailing me.  She’s worried.  She says she won’t be able to sleep until she sees me in person.”

David stabs his fork into the beef and broccoli.  “You could zoom her.  It might satisfy her for a while.”

Patrick considers this, then picks up his phone and starts typing.  

“Why thank you, David, that’s a great idea,” David says, and Patrick laughs.

******

They’re in the car on their way home after a physical therapy session when Patrick clears his throat and says, “I was afraid it wouldn’t work.”

“Pardon?”

“PT.  It’s supposed to get me back to normal, if it works.  But it might not work, there’s no way to know how much things might improve, or not.  So I didn’t want to go, because if I went and I did what they said and I still couldn’t relearn how to walk, then that’s it, it’s over.  I’m in the chair forever.”

David’s heart stutters in his chest, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Patrick beats him to it.  

“I know that’s not rational, but you deserve to know why I skipped my appointments.  That’s why.”

David is still processing this when he feels his phone buzz repeatedly; Patrick’s does too.

“What’s going on now?”  David wonders, hoping it will be about something less fraught than his husband’s all too understandable fears.

Patrick reads the texts as David focuses on driving.  “Stevie’s stressed because our student intern unpacked a box of lip balms and got them all mixed up.”

David lets out his breath.  This is a problem he can deal with.  “Mixed up with what?”

“With each other.  Apparently there are five or six different kinds listed on the invoice, but they all look the same-”

“Because they’re all-natural and don’t have any artificial coloring.”

“So Stevie can’t tell them apart, and so she can’t label them, and if they aren’t labeled, she can’t sell them.”

“Tell her to sniff them – but don’t take off the cap, then they’ll look used.”

“She says she tried that, but she still can’t tell which is which, and there are hundreds of them.”

David sighs.  “Well that’s clearly an exaggeration, the box holds a gross.”

Patrick types, and then waits for Stevie’s reply.  “She says there are two boxes.”

“Whatever.  I suppose it’s no surprise that she’s hopeless at this.  Tell her I’ll come in tomorrow.  It’s Saturday, we don’t have to go to Elmdale, so I can get to the store early.”

“Maybe I’ll come too.”

It’s all David can do to keep his eyes on the road and not squeal with glee.  He can’t help the smile that tugs at his mouth, though, or chancing a look at Patrick to see that he’s smiling softly too.  Patrick hasn’t been to the store yet since his accident, and here he is volunteering to come in.

“Sure, that’d be nice.  You never know what else Stevie’s messed up that we need to fix.”

The next morning they get up a little earlier than usual, David making sure to get the coffee going before he gets in the shower.  When he comes out, Patrick is in his chair wearing one of his favorite blue button down shirts and his briefs.  His jeans are down around his ankles.

“Don’t laugh,” Patrick says, and David assesses the situation, deciding that this time a joke might not actually lighten the mood.  

“You could wear your sweats,” David says carefully.  “No one would care.”

“This from the man who didn’t want me to wear sneakers to work.”

“I’d like to think we can make an exception to our dress code from time to time.  We can write this one in right after the Stevie Budd flannel shirt amendment.”

Patrick is unconvinced.  He tugs on the waistband of his jeans, but can’t get them up past his knees.  Patrick has gotten much better at moving around, and hardly ever needs David’s help to get from their bed to his chair or vice versa, but this is a task he hasn’t tried yet.  Luckily Patrick doesn’t seem too thrown by the unexpected challenge of putting on his jeans.  “So, are you going to help me or what?”

“Happy to,” David says.  It takes a little wrangling, but between the two of them they have Patrick fully dressed a few minutes later.  David notices that Patrick has chosen not his Levis but a pair of jeans David bought him – designer, but subdued.  They do great things for his ass.  Not that Patrick’s ass is particularly visible from his chair, but still.  David appreciates the effort.

The hair on the side of Patrick’s head is now long enough to cover the red scar over his left ear.  Last week David gave him a trim so that both sides matched.  It would be hard to tell that the left side had ever been shaved, if you didn’t know.  

“You look great, honey,” David says, leaning down to kiss his husband.  “And you smell good, too.  Is that my aftershave?”

“Couldn’t find mine,” Patrick says, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“Mmm, I like it.”  David loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and breathes him in.

“Let’s go,” Patrick says.

“Okay, but it isn’t even eight o’clock.  Do you want coffee, or something to eat?  I could make French toast-”

“No – let’s just go.”

Patrick’s clearly nervous, but for once his nerves don’t seem to be accompanied by a side of bitchy apprehension.  David will take it.

They park right in front of the store, and David moves as quickly as he can to get Patrick’s wheelchair out and the two of them inside.  He’s pretty sure that no one spots them, although he wouldn’t really mind that much if Twyla came by with some breakfast.  But it’s Patrick’s first time in town in the chair, and David would prefer for it not to be complicated with visits from random busybodies.

David’s been by the store a handful of times in the past few weeks, and he’s pleased to see that nothing looks too terribly out of place.  He has made both Stevie and Jocelyn facetime him so he can supervise whenever they set out a new product, but it’s not the same as seeing it in person.

David can’t help but watch as Patrick wheels slowly around the store.  It’s an odd sight, most of his body hidden from view as he moves past the display tables.  Then Patrick pauses by the register.  He can’t quite fit the wheelchair behind the counter, and even if he could, he’d be too low to work there very easily.  David cringes – he should have thought of this and at least checked to make sure the place was accessible.  He watches Patrick force a neutral expression on to his face, and it hurts to see it.

“We can move that,” David says, knowing he’s taking a risk by acknowledging the problem, but the store is Patrick’s baby too, and it’s just wrong that he can’t work the counter, or maneuver his chair into the small office space behind it.

“No, it’s fine,” Patrick says, backing himself out and turning around.  

“We can sort the lip balms over here,” David says, clearing an already mostly empty space on an easier to reach back table.

“Yeah, okay.”

“And I’ll look for a new counter tonight.  More of a table than a dresser.”  Patrick needs to be able to get his legs underneath.

“It’s okay, David,” Patrick says, his voice tight.

“It’s not, actually,” David mutters.  He lets the subject drop, and finds the two boxes of lip balms in the back room. They spread them out and start sorting.

It turns out it’s not quite as easy as David expected.  Their best seller, honey vanilla, is easy to identify, as is the lavender sage.  The apple rosemary is fairly individual as well, with a sweet fresh scent balanced by the deeper aroma of rosemary.  But the last two – pear basil and cucumber thyme – seem to be almost identical.

After about an hour they have finished a first sweep through one box.  The honey vanilla, lavender sage, and apple rosemary are all separated into baskets, ready to be labeled.  But then there’s still a big pile of “not sures.”

“We could label them all cucumber pear,” Patrick suggests.  “Cover all the bases.”

“Putting aside the fact that then we’d have to order new labels, that completely ignores the admittedly not very noticeable notes of basil and thyme.”

“Call them cucumber pear herb, maybe?”

“Why not just go with ‘fruit and/or vegetable’ and call it a day?”  David sighs.  It’s his own fault for letting this vendor get overly creative.

“’English garden’ might work,” Patrick says, smiling.

David laughs.  “Natural beauty.”

“Nature.”  Patrick takes a long sniff of one of the unknowns.  “Just nature.  Here, try it.  It definitely smells like nature.”

“Hey kids, what’s so funny?”

They look up at the same time to find Stevie coming in the front door.  She joins them in the back and examines the piles of lip balms, sniffing at each of them.

“You can’t tell them apart either, can you?”  she asks mildly.

“Of course we can,” David says, at the same time Patrick replies, “Nope.”

Stevie grins and then pushes past David to hug Patrick.  “Good to see you,” she says quietly, and hangs on to him for a long moment, her dark hair falling around Patrick’s face.

“Thanks.”

Stepping back, she surveys the scene.  “Looks like you made some progress.  Wanna take a break?  I stopped by the café, and Twyla’s dying for you to come in.”  She addresses this comment to Patrick, who gives David a panicked look.

Always good at reading a scene, Stevie backs off.  “Or I could go pick us up something and we could eat here?”

“That would be great, Stevie,” David says, laying a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.  “We didn’t have a chance to eat before we left the house, and I’m famished.”

“Shocking,” Patrick says, and David has to hide a grin at Patrick’s inner little shit showing his face at last.

“Just for that, I won’t let you have any of my pancakes.”

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Hurt/Comfort #Stevie Budd