#people said ff when I was twelve

[reallyromealone]

DAY 🎃SEVENTEEN🎃 DOUBLE PENITRATION - NAGA! Sephiroth

Warnings

Male reader, bottom male reader, two penises, egg laying, I should have made Sidon this day ffs, biting, drugging kind of?

(Name) was facinated as he walked through the shrouded jungle, the young man was on the search of a plant for his research and this forest was the prime location of this seemingly elusive plant.

"HOLY-" (Name)s foot catching on a root and before he knew it he was tumbling down a hill "damn it..." He whispered in pain as he got up, thankfully his satchel was in tact along with its contents "replacing the magnifying glass would be a pain..." He whispered as he got up and dusted himself off, he was deep within the jungle, trees high up and endless "well I didn't come here to quit.

What he wasn't expecting was sharp eyes to follow him, a twelve foot long obsidian iridescent tail slithering through the plants as the Naga watched the adventurer closely.

Sephiroth liked this human.

He would be his mate.

"Not what I'm looking for but you are a Beauty" (name) crouched before a rare flower "you beauties have seeds thankfully so I don't have to take all of you" he said pulling out a pair of scissors from his bag and clipped a plant and pressed it into his flower book, tightening the strap over it to keep it secure "there" he said pleased, he loved pleasant surprises.

But what (name) forgot is that the flower released a gas when cut that could knock out an elephant for a few hours.

The last thing he remembered was silver hair strong arms.

(Name) grunted as he woke up, candles lighting the cave he was in as he sat in a nest of sorts "what the..."

"Ah you have awoken" a voice rang out and (name) looked to see a tall man...wait "A Naga?" He went that deep to manage to get into naga territory?

"You didn't eat me?" (Name) blurted out, normally Nagas would attack then eat "why would I eat my mate?"

What.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused--- I'm not your mate" he said awkardly "first off I'm male and second I'm human, can't exactly be a mate"

"Humans make excellent mates, I could smell you from miles away, you are mate" Sephiroth said simply and slithered around (name) "pretty mate..."

(Name) tried not to blush at the contact "I-I can't be your mate, I'm a researcher in the village..."

"Research here, I'll help you find that plant" Sephiroth kissed his neck and (name) tried not to blush at this beautiful man-snake, the scales that framed his cheekbones and his abs... Are all Nagas this beautiful?

"O-oh!" (Name) yelped as the Naga nipped at a sensitive part of his neck "my human is sensitive..." He chuckled and (name) pouted "what's your name human?"

"(N-name)... What's yours" he said as if he didn't have a halfie in his pants "Sephiroth..." He said simply "my mate has a pretty name" the silver haired man said, telling the human pretty words to convince him.

Nagas were bigger than humans as Nagas were predators to things like cows and humans depending on the Naga clan.

"So what do you...o-oh god!" His hips bucked as the Naga palmed his pant covered cock "A-alrighty..." Who was (name) to deny getting fucked by a handsome Naga who looked at him like he was his everything?

Nagas had an ability to draw people close, not quite hypnosis but more pharamone related and was usually used for hunting but in sephiroths case it was to calm his pretty human who melted into his touch, he was so willing already.

So docile... So bendable...

Sephiroth removed the annoying fabric and (name) shivered at the cold air against his cock "already? You humans are so needy..."

Sephiroth stroked his cock, firm and slow as (name) let out small moans and pants "I haven't even mated you get and you're already undone, cute"

Sephiroths other hand tugged and played with (name)s nipple, poor (name) choking as he moved his head to give him more space to kiss and suck.

"Close..!" (Name) panted as he thrusted into Sephiroths hand to try and get some more friction "n-no!" He cried as Sephiroth removed his hand from his cock "please please!" He begged but the Naga just tutted "behave human, I will give you what you desire" his fangs scraping (name)s neck before using his tail to manover (name) who was entangled in it and his cute ass before the Naga "I'll make sure you are more than satisfied, filled with my clutch..."

(Name) was dizzy as he let the Naga do as he desired, gasping as a thick tongue circled his rim before pushing in "o-oh god..." (name) clung to the thick tail, feeling the muscles move throughout it as Sephiroth began stretching him out with his tongue, hitting every spot within (name).

"Please... Need it" (name) whispered as his body shook at each thrust, god if this is what his tongue could do Imagine..."two?" He said hazily as he saw two cocks amerge from slit "to ensure proper mating, ones for fertilizing and ones for eggs.." Sephiroth said moving (name) so his back was against Sephiroth chest "gonna fuck your tight little human hole twice to make sure.."

(Name) was hypnotized as he stared down the two twin cocks that had ridges that would hit the best spots "both.." (name) whispered "gimmie both.." (name)a eyes were dilated fully and Sephiroth looked curious "you humans are kinky little things..." He grinned and lined them up "you asked for it..."

When pushing in, (name) struggled to calm down and tears built up "do you trust me?" Sephiroth asked and (name) could barely focus as he nodded and before he knew it Sephiroth bit into his neck, pain rushing through him before his body relaxed and pleasure filled his being "hah...what...?" He said as the Naga slowly bottomed out "my venom works as a setative of sorts, you couldn't relax...so..."

"Feels good.." (name) said and yelped as Sephiroth began thrusting, slow and deep before picking up speed, the stretch delicious and both cocks hit every spot that could be hit "fuck!" He cried as he let the other fuck him like a doll, hooking his arms under the humans legs and pounding into him.

"yesyesyes!"

"M-more!"

"Please fuck! Oh god!"

(Name) moans echoed through cave and Sephiroth used his tongue to tongue fuck his mouth as the two felt themselves grow close "mh!" (Name)s body shook as he felt hard objects shoot inside him along with got semen, his own cum shooting on his chest and sephiroths tail "fuck..."

He barely remembered passing out again, letting the Naga take him deeper within the cave.

He couldn't even bring himself to be mad.

#kinktober 2023 #sephiroth x male reader #sephiroth x reader #naga #smut #final fantasy 7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x male reader #ff7 x male reader #ff7 x reader

[bookworm-2000]

Jason Grace deserved better 😭

Rick did us so dirty. He basically just dangled this incredible backstory in front of us. Like my man was literally raised by wolves?? And yet still grew up to be one of the most, if not the most respectful young man in the entire series??

Percy being better with a sword genuinely doesn’t make sense with Jason’s hinted background either. This guy who has been training since he was three years old (twelve years) and then this kid who’s only been training for five is stronger than him?

I honestly feel like Rick only did this so people didn’t hate Jason more than they already did, having a character who wasn’t the main be stronger than the said main character.

That’s a mouthful but you get what I mean. I’m 99% sure there’s a word for characters like Jason, but I can’t remember what it is. It’s kind of like how in ffs you get Mary Sue’s, or original female characters who take over the story? Not really but kinda.

But yes, let’s not forget this kid, because that’s literally what they all are! Kids!

But THIS kid didn’t know when his birthday was…

How can you hate him when you know that? That kind of backstory is usually enough to make people love horrible, bloodthirsty villains but not a 16 year old hero who lost everything when Hera took his memories?

It doesn’t make sense.

#Pro Jason Grace #Jason Grace #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #rick riordan #percy jackson #angst #love jason grace #he deserved better #dead jason grace

[stray-kaz]

A Better Distraction : a Jesper Fahey x reader FF : Twelve

The light beyond the tiny window in Jesper’s room was dim and grey when Kaz knocked on the door, wary considering what had happened the last time. Jesper opened it to him, bare to the waist and his trousers only just hanging on at his hips, pulled on at a second’s notice.

“Yeah?” he mumbled blearily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “It’s early, Kaz.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows.

“I’m very sorry if her royal highness didn’t get her beauty sleep, but the tattooist is here. You wanted last minute art, you get last minute time” he replied calmly.

Jesper turned to look over at you, curling into the warmth he had left behind in the bed, one of his shirts dwarfing your frame. He glanced back at Kaz and nodded.

“We’ll be down in a minute” he said, and slowly closed the door.

He padded back across the room to the bed and knelt down beside it, knees cold on contact with the wooden floorboards. He gently grasped your shoulder and shook it, smiling at you as soon as you opened your eyes to sleepily peer at him.

“Morning, sleepyhead” he murmured. “Are you ready to become a Crow?”

You sat up quickly and fell into his arms, giggling as he fell dramatically backwards onto the floor with an ‘oof’ and wrapped himself around you. He felt you press a kiss against his bicep before rolling off him onto your knees.

“I have to get dressed!”

You jumped up and rummaged in the piles of clothes Kaz had commissioned for you and came out with a short sleeved blouse and leggings like those Inej often wore. You slipped your socked feet into boots and ran your hands through your shaggy hair, slowly growing out past your ears.

You felt a familiar, warm hand touch your hair, fingers carding through the strands.

“Are you growing it out?” Jesper asked quietly.

You shrugged.

“Haven’t decided yet” you told him honestly. “I kind of like it now. A girl with short hair is not a Kaelish princess, just a girl.”

“A Crow” Jesper corrected, and received your grin. “I like it, too.”

You stretched up as high as you could on tiptoes and pulled him down the rest of the distance to kiss his forehead, fingers framing his ears.

“A Crow” you repeated, whispering. “Let’s go.”

The others were all ready and waiting with expectant smiles as you stepped down off the stairs and rounded into the common area. Kaz was standing next to a man dressed in black from head to toe, except for his hair, which was a shock of premature grey curls. He smiled and waved a needle gun in your direction.

You swallowed and Jesper lightly squeezed your waist, nudging you on.

“It’ll hurt” he admitted. “But I figure you’ve been through worse, probably.”

You rolled your eyes at his insinuation and walked towards the appointed table, taking a seat and setting your right arm down on the flat surface, forearm facing up.

The tattooist was just raising the tool, ready to bring it down against your skin, when the door to the Slat blew open and two very familiar, and angry, adults marched inside. They let a streak of dingy grey light in with them, but it died as the door swung shut. You stared at your parents, saw out of the corner of your eye Jesper reaching for his weapons. You put a hand on his and he paused, still, but ready all the same.

“Mother” you said tightly. “Da. Welcome to Ketterdam, the place where people either thrive or die.”

At the last word you spoke, Inej drew two knives, Jesper spun a revolver around on two fingers, and Nina raised her hands, all of them prepared. Bethel and Caolán gazed back at them, eyes hard. You noticed that your mother’s eyes were also full of pain, but you’d had your fill of her kind of pain so you closed yourself off to it.

“So what of you, child?” the king asked you.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze frankly.

“I have thrived” you answered. “And been loved.”

He gave a most un-kinglike snort of derision and your mother stepped forward, pointing a furious finger at Jesper, who looked back at her with soft, emptied eyes.

“That man killed my nephew!” she exclaimed angrily. “Your cousin!”

You folded your arms over your chest and leaned your back on the edge of the table.

“Yes” you said. “He did. The man you were forcing on me. Can you imagine the deformed children born from that kind of union?”

Your mother gestured at Jesper again.

“So you choose a gutter rat instead?” she demanded.

You bristled all over and stood up, fire brimming over and limning your skin, fluttering over your clothes. Your parents both took a step back, while Jesper and Nina smiled. Inej slipped her knives away and Kaz watched with interest, never having seen a girl actually on fire before. Matthias watched you warily, but said nothing.

“He is not a gutter rat” you said fiercely. “And so what, anyway, if he is? I love him. But there is no point explaining that to you. You don’t know what love is.”

Bethel opened and closed her mouth, seemingly at a loss for words. You shook your head and sat back down, putting your arm against the table again. The needle whirred to life.

“If you so much as let that needle touch your skin, you will be cut off from your family and you can never come home again” Caolán announced, glowering at you.

Jesper glanced down at you where you sat, an inkling of worry in his gaze, but you just shook your head at him and briefly squeezed his hand with your free one, your eyes fixed on your father.

“This is my family and this is my home” you said, and pulled the needle down onto your skin, ignoring the burning sting.

And then there were seven.

No pressure tag: @thegeeksideofsr​

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #liss writes #jesper x reader #jesper fahey x female reader #shadow and bone #soc fic #six of crows #shadow and bone fic

[joelockescoffee]

Re: Charlie's heritage, Alice posted a comment fic about Charlie's parents and said this about Julio's background:

"Julio’s dad is Spanish, his mum is English. Julio’s life has been pretty much split between Spain and England so far – he was born in England, spent his early years there, then moved to Spain and lived and went to school there until he was about twelve, then moved back to England to go to secondary school there. When he went off to university, his parents moved officially back to Spain while he studied in the UK, but he still goes back to stay with them during the uni holidays. So this place in Mojácar is his parents’ actual home. He also has an older brother, Antonio, but he’s married and living in England by this point."

Thanks for this, this puts that whole thing to rest. There shouldn't have been an argument in first place because Alice had already stated Charlie's ethnicity, he's one of the main characters ffs. I guess some dumb people noticed his skin tone in comics and made it a big deal.

#heartstopper #charlie springs #anonymous

[taeyamayang]

I have decided on Mayve but I didn’t change it at the time bUT YOU CALL YOUR CAT BORKY PORKY??? AND SHE RESPONDS TO IT???? LMAOOO OMG. And weirdly enough? We never taught aria to play fetch. She kinda does it on her own? I think I took two more videos of us playing fetch. And by that I mean I tried like twelve times to throw it up the stairs for her to get it and failed. She was annoyed like “just throw the damn ball human!” It was kinda pathetic. I’ll post them but just a disclaimer: I am aware by voice sounds like a pre pubescent 12 yo boy with a speech problem. We acknowledged it and now we move on. I also forgot to mention how much aria loves chicken? Tuna is Thors food (though he is fond of sitting next to my dad while he’s eating cereal and trying to drink the milk, but milk isn’t a food so..), EVERYTHING is lokis food (as previously mentioned he’ll eat everything, hide your snacks people) but arias food? Chicken. She LOVES chicken. How do we know this? Once ma brought home a rotisserie chicken from Walmart or something and we were all sitting in the living room watching Criminal Minds (just for a better picture, the living room is to the direct right of the kitchen so if you turn your head you get to see the kitchen table) and I get up to get some water and aRIAS WHOLE ASS HEAD WAS IN THE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN! SHE WAS EATING THE CHICKEN FEOM THE INSIDE OUT!!!!!! she was a bit smaller so she could fit her head inside at the time. I was like WTF ARIA?!?! as she Skedaddled away. She was going to town on that chicken carcass ffs. Also when I said Loki eats everything, that technically isn’t true. He HATES lettuce, which is the opposite of momo. We were having tacos one night and my dad dropped a piece of lettuce. As per usual Loki ran his fatass all the way over to it and my dad told him he could have it but he wouldn’t like it. He happily but into it and just stopped. We watched as the lettuce dropped from his mouth. He kicked it and walked away. He was not pleased. Picturing Momo getting up all sleepy to monch on some veggies is the cutest thing ever and a did an auditable squeal. That’s so cute!!! It’s cute how Ching likes to sit next to you. My cats only do that if they want food. Once when we first got the cats (Loki and Thor, aria came after) I couldn’t sleep so I went to lay on the couch and scroll through twitter. I felt someone touch my should and istfg I thought it was the fucking grim reaper coming to take my soul. I jumped like two feet off the couch, deadass. I turned and looked at what tapped me…..it was loki. His fatass saw me awake and was like “it’s food time?” At three am. Damn cat. Also did you know Snapchat filters work on cats?

Also I’m sorry if me responding fast is kinda weird I just get anxiety if I don’t respond asap….or I forget and thought I already did which is even worse smh

DUDE SNAPCHAT FILTER WORKS ON CATS??? HOW COME I DIDN'T KNOW THIS?? 😭 my phone's memory is about to freaking explode but i am seriously considering downloading snapchat again just to make fun of our cats 😭 that's so cool cos i've tried ig story filters and it just doesn't work. also, momo knows when someone is taking a picture of her so when she becomes aware of that she rans away vsnsbsjs it's difficult to take a picture of her bc 1) she's purely black and the lighting here is whack 2) she hates attention.

OMG THE CHICKEN 😭 were you guys able to eat the chicken or no? but ngl chicken tastes so good. aria and i will be besties bc we both love chicken,, or we can be foes too bc we might end up fighting over a piece of poultry lmaoo momo doesn't get excited over food i feel like this cat has her own diet plan it's weird cos she doesn't finish her food when she feels full she will come back to it later on to snack. sometimes when we eat at the dinner table she sit next to us but she ignores the food on the table we even give her a piece of whatever we are having and she just smells it and just "nahhh" even ching is the same way! before she used to eat table food but when she tasted cat food she prefers it over that. there are instances, we also have stray cats outside so we kinda feed them but they don't permanently stay with us they enter our main gate and act like they own the place 😭, when i feed the stray cats with table food and ching gets excited too so she skips (it's adorable ngl) her way next to me but when put down the food and she smells it she's like "nahhhh" and walks away gsmsbskjs i swear they are weird. but ching eats A LOT i mean she eats twice as much as momo despite her body being smaller than momo.

also, i was going pictures of momo and i saw this!! thought i should mention her car anxiety lmao she hates car rides and when we put her in a cage she doesn't stop panicking until she sees me next to her but when i can't put her next to me in the car she at least wants my fingers curled around the metal gate so she knows i'm there. it's adorable ngl but momo doesn't like new places but ofc there are times when we can't leave her alone in the house so we have to bring her along with us. here's a photo of her watching me swim in a swimming pool. my mom took this bc she sat next to her and my mom said that whenever i dive in her eyes rounds and kinda panics bc i "disappeared" in the water. the last photo is still from the same trip i was telling you. she clings on me like ALL THE TIME and that is unusual bc normal momo HATES attention but when we're in a different place she looks for security thus she clings to me

i don't mind if you answer quickly I LOVE IT HONESTLY and to be frank... I SHOULD BE THE ONE APOLOGIZING bc i have a lot of things going on in my personal life (that is exhausting) and usually i go on tumblr before going to bed and by that time my social energy has depleted and i don't like answering asks half-heartedly, like for the sake of just getting it done. i take every conversation seriously bc i enjoy talking to all of you and ofc to you bc the cat contents makes my day better (no kidding, iswear it makes me happy lmao) so thank you for replying to me tho i suck at replying on time 😭

#myve.🐱 #also i gave you a tag! #pea.asks

[sternentinte]

six more days for me not to mess up on Nano

#this fic is thriving #sort of #everybody's changing #I'm tired though #and it's still not done #idk if nano won't finish it I guess it'll have to be a blood sacrifice #sorry to everyone other than the two people who follow this blog for hp ff #do people still say ff #or is it fust fanfic #people said ff when I was twelve #which is what all my life comes down to #as we've discovered #i guess this counts as writer content too #or something

[shootfortherightreasons]

;; I’m just saying, Carl’s AU job and his apocalyptic society life are both gonna end up being animal rescue and care.

My mind is unchangeable.

Also just a reminder my muse is learning medical. He w i l l be saving animals.

#Headcanons ;; ~ #;; Carl has a history with animals and he has one of the biggest hearts in the series #At this point my muse is like PFFT LEADERSHIP? YEAH MAYBE RESCUING ANIMALS #Sorry Rick you're gonna have to find someone else to lead after you bc ur son is very busy #Carl and Daryl would totally be great animal rescuers because they both obviously like animals #and Daryl is already a tracker. They're both perfect for it DON'T TELL ME YOU'VE FORGOTTEN BUTTONS #AND DON'T TELL ME YOU'VE FORGOTTEN VIOLET THE PIG CARL NAMED WHEN HE WAS LIKE THIRTEEN/FOURTEEN #Also I am hearing Daryl is getting a dog this season #Also let's not forget the fucking deer Tiny Carl was so interested in #Also Chandler and Norman are both cat people and it very much makes it much easier to #see Carl and Daryl being animal people I mean ffs Norman said if he wasn't an actor #he'd be living with like twelve cats walking around his house in a onesie I'm not kidding he legit said that #AND I HAVE SEEN CHANDLER WITH HIS CAT IN VIDEOS SO I MEAN #THEY'RE NOT HELPING AGAINST HEADCANONS THAT ARE SUPER EASY TO PICTURE #There is LITERALLY nothing making me feel the need to go against this headcanon #also considering how Carl and Daryl have a pretty good relationship in canon #I s2g Carl is gonna have people help him build an animal shelter in Alexandria after the war #''YOU WANNA HELP THE SAVIORS DAD??? WELL I'LL BE HELPING THESE ANIMALS'' #Daryl and Carl sitting in their corner with kittens and puppies walking around and on them #staying far away from the Saviors and being overtaken by the animal crew #You've probably seen my Carl and animal headcanons before. And I am not gonna stop them. :')

[panharmonium]

this is legitimately one of my top five favorite kakashi scenes.

i love seeing kakashi break the rules in the name of doing the right thing, and this scene especially is particularly satisfying to me, because his moment of defiance here is, to my mind, long overdue.  

one of my eternal frustrations in early naruto is how the leaf village administration gives kakashi the job of caring for a group of super high-needs children and then continually makes that job as difficult for him as possible.  they task him with being solely responsible for the development and well-being of three twelve year-olds - a group that includes naruto (a walking disaster with a god’s power trapped inside his body) and sasuke (a genocide survivor fixated on killing his own brother), BOTH of whom are being hunted by different groups of supercriminals - and then the village keeps getting in kakashi’s way or dropping the ball or actively ordering him to prioritize other things.  

so much of what goes wrong with the kids in this period is the result of other people interfering with kakashi’s work or being negligent or endangering the kids/putting kakashi in impossible positions.  team 7’s first big mission sets the tone for everything that comes after, with someone else’s lie putting kakashi in a situation where he has to single-handedly protect not just the client who deceived him, but the three children who were supposed to be the clients’ other protectors.  and after that, the list just multiplies:

ten anbu operatives can’t manage to protect sasuke’s hospital room from orochimaru’s minions, so kakashi has to do it himself and then whisk sasuke out of the village for a month, leaving naruto in the hands of a substitute and sakura with her parents

genma orders sasuke to chase after gaara when the chunin exams blow up, saying “you’re at chunin level already,” which forces kakashi to immediately dispatch more kids to bring him back, because “ffs NO i do NOT want him out there doing that why the fuck would you tell him to do that?!” 

aoba runs his mouth off about itachi when sasuke is standing RIGHT THERE, instantly undoing all the work kakashi just did to prevent itachi and sasuke from coming anywhere near each other (and thus sending sasuke to that disastrous first encounter, the outcome of which ultimately leads to sasuke’s defection)

jiraiya decides he should let sasuke try to fight itachi himself, “out of respect for the boy’s feelings,” leading to sasuke ending up in a tsukuyomi coma

tsunade orders kakashi to drop his teaching work and leave the village on a mission even though a) he’s just gotten out of his own torture-induced coma and b) sasuke is having a crisis that kakashi is trying to manage

and then when kakashi gets back from that mission and finds out that surprise, all of this meddling has led to a disaster, tsunade tries to order him away AGAIN

but this time - he just says no.

he walks right out of her office.  he turns his back on her.  and there is NOTHING i love more than seeing kakashi embody the philosophy that he’s chosen to adopt as his guiding light: those who break the rules are scum.  but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

it’s not that he doesn’t understand where tsunade is coming from here.  but he knows she’s wrong.  she’s making her decisions based solely on concerns about the Leaf Village being in a tight spot - feeling like they can’t turn down missions because they’ll appear weak and thus become vulnerable to attack when they’re already operating at half strength.  she sends a group of twelve year-olds to bring sasuke back because supposedly the village can’t spare anyone else, “even if it means letting the sharingan fall into orochimaru’s hands” - but like.  it’s not the sharingan.  it’s a child.  sasuke isn’t just a repository for his hereditary jutsu; he’s not a pair of eyes to be passed around from one wielder to the next.  he’s a human child.  

tsunade doesn’t know sasuke.  she’s new to the situation and doesn’t know enough about it to understand how serious it is.  i don’t even think she was still in the village when the uchiha massacre occurred; the timeline makes it sound like she left long before that.  she doesn’t really understand who sasuke is or how much trouble he’s in - she makes her decision because she feels like her first priority has to be the well-being of the Leaf as a whole, not the individual people who comprise it.  kakashi, though, who a) lives his life by a very different philosophy and b) does understand sasuke’s situation, would not have dealt with the issue like this, and if the village had let him do his job from the beginning, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point in the first place.

kakashi is horrified that tsunade sent a bunch of twelve year-olds out to fight orochimaru’s ninja, and i think he’s also probably angry and/or frustrated about having been ordered out of the village in the first place.  he was dealing with the situation before tsunade sent him away.  he interrupted the fight between sasuke and naruto even though he himself had literally just gotten out of the hospital, and then he continued addressing the issue with sasuke privately (unlike jiraiya’s non-attempt to address it with naruto, when he said he was going to give naruto a talking-to but actually flaked out).  kakashi knew sasuke was struggling, and he was doing all the things a teacher is supposed to do to address it, but then he was ordered away, and even though it was just for two days, it was enough time for everything to go to hell.

if people would just let him do his job - if the administration would let him focus on the task they themselves assigned to him - things would be different.  but everybody wants him to do everything.  they want him to be everywhere.  they want him to protect the nine-tails jinchuriki (who is also kakashi’s dead teacher’s son), and train the last surviving uchiha (which is a task only kakashi and his sharingan can perform), and give equal attention to a third kid, for good measure, and they want him to do it without stepping away from any of his other burdens, all while other people around him constantly frustrate the progress he makes.

so this time, when tsunade tries to send him away, he refuses.  he disobeys her orders and walks out of the room.  he doesn’t care about the rules or what he’s “legally” obligated to do.  he knows what the RIGHT thing to do is, and so he rejects his new mission in favor of rescuing the kids.

i love these moments.  i love when we’re shown so clearly the person kakashi has chosen to be - someone who does what’s right, not just what he’s told.  he made an active choice many years ago to adopt that philosophy, and he’s been living by those new rules ever since.  he's wiser now than he was when he was a child - sometimes you have to break ranks to do the right thing.  sometimes you have to buck the system, even if it means you might face severe personal consequences.

he had one of two choices: either save the mission or his comrades.  of course, according to the law of the village, you cannot abandon a mission.  but to save the life of his comrades, he put the mission on hold.

kakashi may have spent a good chunk of his childhood trying to reject everything the subject of that story stood for, but none of his attempts to harden his heart ever stuck.  he is, in the end, his father’s son.

#naruto #pan watches naruto #meta #i got lost on the path of life #* #anyway i just LOVE seeing kakashi break the rules #gives me so much satisfaction #he's worked so hard to become who he is today #and he's grown so much #on the other hand... #i HATE seeing kakashi take all of his frustration with how the village has mishandled things #and immediately turn it around upon himself #'i was too naive' #'i'm too late' #'it was my cowardice that drove the three of you apart' #'i'm sorry you have such a careless sensei' #none of that is even REMOTELY true #literally the last thing kakashi ever was with these kids was 'careless' or 'cowardly' #the deck was stacked against him from the beginning and he still did EVERYTHING he could #but he blames himself for all the things that went wrong #even when they were completely out of his control #and that's why i maintain that the last hurdle kakashi is going to surmount in this story is guilt #that's the natural progression of his character arc #the one thing he has never been able to do - #despite all his other achievements and hard-won personal growth - #is let go of his guilt and shame #that's why his character design looks the way it looks #the way he wears that headband isn't a fashion choice. it's a symbolic representation of how he hasn't cleared this obstacle yet #he has never released himself from blame or forgiven himself for anything #maybe someday...but i guess i'll just have to wait and see

[adoresobs]

- grocery run! ( 𝐓.𝐂 )

anons : Can I request a livestream imagine where the reader and Timmy are just like live-streaming while they get groceries or something I feel like that’d be cute / 26 !! i love your writing

prompt list : Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

THIS FIC CONTAINS fluff and foul language

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

timothée was almost like a kid in a candy store, roaming around the grocery store aisles with a soft grin on his face that only grew wider when he saw something he wanted or that reminded him of a good memory.

you’d been behind him, pushing along the cart. your phone’d been propped up in the place on the cart infants usually sat, your own instagram live displayed on the screen. laughing softly at your boyfriend who threw yet another item in the cart, you called out to him.

“you know we came for food and not chips, right?”

timothée finally looked back at you, the smile on his face never once leaving. “since when were chips not a part of the food category?” 

“real food.”

“same thing!” he shot back, reaching over to grab yet another bag. 

userone  u heard the man let him get his chips

usertwo  y/n,, it is two a.m 🙄

userthree  not me ruining my sleep schedule to watch this live

“in my defense, it’s only twelve a.m here!” you said, giggling at the comments that’d been flowing in. “and go to bed. losing sleep is not worth watching timothée refuse to get anything besides chips.” making sure to make your volume higher when you spoke so he could hear you, you looked up and met his eyes.

“and i’ll do it again.” timothée simply said, sending a playful eye roll your way which you happily returned.

“you man child.”

userfour  did we expect him to be like anything else in the store

you shook your head, picking up your phone and flipping the camera around. timothée was now shown and everyone could see him returning to the shopping cart you were pushing along with numerous items in his hands. 

“this, people, is a prime example of why we can’t bring him anywhere.” 

instead of him replying, he dropped the items into the cart and hung his head in mock embarrassment. “i did get real food this time, stop.” his ‘stop’ was stretched out before he walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

you’d just flipped the camera to face you both now when he nuzzled his face into your neck, letting out a content sigh.

userfive  wait cause omg 🥺

usersix  pain.

userseven  and where’s mine? 😔

letting out a hum, you’d moved your hand up to ruffle in his messy yet soft hair. “he’s tired now after his long journey up and down each of the aisles.” you joked.

timothée squeezed your sides with his hands that before, were resting in front of your stomach. “you suck!” he exclaimed with a laugh but his face hadn’t moved from your neck. 

usereight  lol hey god,, it’s me again

usernine  did u guys so live so i could cry at midnight over not having this? i’m not mad at it tho 🥰

userten  y/n’s living that y/n life-

“oh, hell no. he’s much nicer in the fan fictions.” you claimed which also got his attention. he looked up at you, brushing a kiss along the shell of your ear before attacking that side of your face with kisses. 

“is-” one kiss.

“this-” another kiss.

“nice-” another.

“enough-” yet another one.

“for-” one more.

“you?” he’d finished, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. you stuck out your tongue at the last one, nose scrunching up in fake disgust. 

“you’re nasty, tim, real nasty.”

usereleven  are we gonna ignore the fact that they know how he acts in the fan fictions

usertwelve  are they tryna tell us something

userthirteen  NOT Y/N READING FF

userfourteen  i see it’s time to delete my tumblr acc

eyes widening when you finally realized what you said, you quickly picked your phone back up. “nice seeing you all but i think it’s bedtime because you’re just making stuff up now, thank you and goodnight!” you attempted to laugh it off and quickly ended the live.

“i saw everything.” timothée spoke up and you elbowed him.

“no the hell you didn’t-”

#Timothee Chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee fanfic #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fic #fifty types of kisses #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timmy x you #timmy imagine #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee imagine

[pain-in-the-butler]

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji hunger games simulator

[seriouslyhooked]

The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.  

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit.  She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you. 

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest.  He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian  placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly. 

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs #cs au #cs fluff #cs smut #captain swan fluff #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan smut #emma swan #killian jones #the whole storybrooke gang #cs doctor au #cs medical au #ouat fic #ouat ff #once fic #once ff #bad idea #bad idea part 2

[takoyakitenchou]

masquerade ch.8

7? idk but this one isn’t on ff or ao3 yet i think

12:58 PM Nakiri Erina: Hi, it’s been a while. Are you free the day after tomorrow?

1:03 PM Yukihira Souma: how’d u get this #?

1:04 PM Nakiri Erina: Alice gave it to me. 

1:04 PM Yukihira Souma: sup

1:05 PM Nakiri Erina: I’m opening Kiralyno Haza. It’s not like I want you to show up or anything.

message opened

1:37 PM Nakiri Erina: Hello?

2:40 PM Yukihira Souma: hey sorry i just got on break. congrats nakiri!

2:41 PM Nakiri Erina: It was expected.

2:41 PM Yukihira Souma: surprised it took you so long to open. hurry up and get your 3 stars bubs then we’ll really see who’s the better chef

2:41 PM Yukihira Souma: and did you get tired of shinomiya or did he get tired of you?

2:42 PM Nakiri Erina: I got tired of him. Duh. Are you not coming?

2:42 PM Yukihira Souma: save 4 seats for me. i’ll be a balloon by the time im done w your food also i hope you have enough ingredients for a shokugeki after

“Ugh. You’re as shit at texting as ever,” Erina groaned, throwing down her phone, but then she picked it up again to stare at those four particular characters. Bubs. God, it had been so long since she’d seen that in her messages.

(under the cut to see souma and erina start to get their shit together lol)

To think that she had been the one to break the radio silence between them — good lord, that was fucking annoying. It was weird to think about. There had been plenty of opportunities for them to talk again, and yet they’d somehow managed to evade each other since they’d run into each other at Nakiri Mansion. Whether this was coincidence she had no idea, but Souma hadn’t been at the official Totsuki-sponsored 92nd gen alumni reunion, and Shinomiya had dragged Erina to some culinary conference that made her miss the freshman training camp where Souma threatened the living shits out of the poor first years but ended up not cutting anybody from the roster.

Erina had done her best not to linger on the fact that she had had to ask Alice for Souma’s new number, but goddamn would that remain at the forefront of her mind for the week following Kiralyno Haza’s debut until she got frustrated enough to the point where she damn near chucked her own phone out the window.

It was thanks to Alice that her condo was still in one piece.

The COO of the Nakiri-Totsuki Group was sitting next to her at a bar in Budapest, helping herself to her third shot of tequila, a few empty glasses and a growing tab between them. “Yukihira’s coming?”

Erina nodded, smiling despite herself. “Yeah. I guess he is.”

Taking sudden interest in her drink, Alice remained silent for a thoughtful moment before she said, “I haven’t seen you this happy since you two broke up.”

With a half-hearted huff, Erina scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

Alice gave her a long look. “I’m not kidding, Erina. Who was that other guy you were seeing? Darren?”

“Aaron. Darren was before him.”

“Doesn’t he have a 3000-seater concert hall named after him?”

“I couldn’t care less.” Erina said, and Alice knew it was 593% true. 

Whenever tolerating a guy got tedious, Erina had extinguished whatever spark he thought he had ignited, pretended to be hung up on it, and started over, systematically breaking hearts left and right, all the while building titanium defenses around her own.

And then, a year and half ago, she’d seen Yukihira Souma at Nakiri Mansion, and everything had changed. 

So. Much. Pining. Alice was more than a few years past sick of how long those two idiots were dragging their shit out.

Erina picked up her belongings. “We should probably stop day-drinking.”

“Sure,” Alice said, paying the tab before Erina could get her wallet out.

“I’ll pay you back for that,” Erina promised as they left the bar.

Alice put a hand on Erina’s shoulder. “You can pay me back by not fucking up your confession again.”

At this, Erina frowned. A withering counter should’ve been second nature, but she found herself incapable. She wanted to believe that whatever piece of her heart that had clung to the hope that Yukihira Souma would come back to her was nothing more than a memory. More than anything, she wished the voice at the back of her head telling her to move on and forget him and their past would finally win out, because there were people in her present waiting for her, and it would be a sin to ignore that.

But she couldn’t say the words; her heart belonged to Yukihira Souma — would always belong to him — and all broken promises and relationships notwithstanding, that was something she could not deny.

-

Although Souma technically hadn’t been invited to the kitchen for shift drinks when the front doors closed, he had taken the liberty of bringing a bottle of cab sauv that he and Erina finished in like ten seconds flat, to hell with sharing with staff, family, and friends.

The second she felt the words wanna come over? slip out of her atmosphere-drunk mouth, she knew it was going to take more self-control than she had not to demand he stay with her forever. 

“So, Yukihira,” she said like they hadn’t been catching up for the last two hours when they were sitting on the couch in her living room with pinot noir. “How’ve you been?”

The corners of Souma’s lips twitched. “Not bad,” he replied. “Mostly cooking. A few interviews and shit. I’ve been keeping up with all your stuff, by the way. Three tastings in twelve hours next Monday seems like too much, Nakiri.”

Erina frowned. “Even if you were as talented a stalker as Mimasaka Subaru, how the fuck would you know that?”

He held up his phone. “You were signed into my calendar app when I last downloaded a backup copy four years ago. So every time I get a new phone, I transfer all the old data.”

Erina stared at him, horrified. “Holy shit. You’ve seen everything?”

Shrugging, Souma said, “Not everything. Just… your dates with Darren. And Aaron. Also, I knew about Kiralyno opening before you texted me so I’d already cleared out my schedule by then.”

Erina had stopped listening halfway through. “Wait, Yukihira…”

“It’s okay, Nakiri.” Souma waved it off. “You’re here with me now. All that matters. Let’s not look too far into our past, yeah?”

“Don’t look into my future either, idiot! Sign out of my Google calendar right now!”

Souma shook his head seriously. “Sorry, Nakiri, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why the fuck not?”

He gazed at her intently and rested his chin on his fist. “I need to make sure I’ll still be in it.”

Erina rolled her eyes. “Don’t say sappy shit like that. It doesn’t suit you.”

“What if I just stayed?” he asked.

She sighed. “I think the question is, would I even let you? I thought we’re putting the past behind us? Don’t you want this back?” She pointed at the white cloth she was wearing on her wrist. His white cloth.

Souma ignored the second question and pulled Erina to him by her waist, close enough that she could feel his warm breath as he spoke, forehead brushing hers. “Another thing we both know is that you and I could never be just friends.”

“Take your hands off me or I swear I’m either going to spill my wine or kiss you, and I seriously do not care which.”

He leaned back with a sad smile. “You wouldn’t let me stay, would you, Nakiri?”

“I couldn’t,” she said helplessly. “We don’t even know where our lines are.”

“Do we need lines?” Souma asked, finishing his glass and balancing it on his knee. “You and I are beyond this dimension.”

Erina stared at him, memorizing every last square centimeter of his features — the way his hair seemed to get shorter every time they met until he somewhat resembled someone of his culinary pedigree; the way the creases formed on his sleeves along the contours of his toned arms.

“You know, Nakiri, if you let me stay, you wouldn’t have to stare so much.”

She tore her gaze from his collarbone, her whole face turning red. In all her twenty-one years, that had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. “Shut up! I’m not staring!”

He was watching her with wistful eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you were…” 

And they both heard it.

I wouldn’t mind if you were mine.

#shokugeki no soma #shokugeki no souma #sorina #soueri #yukihira soma #yukihira souma #nakiri erina #CANT BELIEVE THEYRE FINALLY GETTING THEIR SHIT TOGETHER #oh wait #im the one writing this

[unforth]

A few days back I read this post in which you explained how you found out your daughter's gender and I just wanted to express to you how amazing it is that you listened to her.

I keep hearing people talking about how it's wrong to let children "decide what gender they want to be" (.........) because they are "too young to really understand what they're saying" (again, .........) so it's nice to see that someone actually LISTENS. Kids need adults, especially their parents, to listen to them when they are telling them who they are.

So thank you for listening and for stressing how important this is!

❤❤❤

For us as a couple it was a no brainer. We're both queer (we’re two married cis women) and we have a lot of genderqueer friends. All the evidence and research on children this young is that they understand gender as early as 2 and can know they’re not cis at that point (the little was about 26 months when she told us, and is 2 3/4 now) and that the best thing we can do as parents is to affirm her. We did have concerns about how some of our family might react and for the most part things went okay but we did have one big conflict with my MIL which has resulted in us seeing her much less, and she's not allowed to be alone with the kids. Her reaction to, "so the little told us she’s a girl...so she’s a girl," was, "at that age my brother thought he was a school bus." (To emulate you... ................) She also blamed me for dressing 'him' that way - "who picks out the little's clothes?” (she knew I did the clothes shopping) “Dressing that way doesn't make the little a girl!" which was the stupidest fucking thing to say...like...the little herself picked out those clothes when I took her thrift storing with me. I just bought what she liked. I literally have a picture of her hoarding two dresses and a skirt that she’d picked out, hugging them to her face while she sat in the cart, from a few months before she told us. She would pitch fits when she’d find something she’d like and I’d be like...little you’re a size 2t and that’s a size 7, we’re not buying it cause it won’t fit you...and she dressed in tutus and dresses for almost six months before she learned how to talk enough to share the gender thing...and we still called her by her birth gender because obviously wearing dresses doesn't make someone a girl. Hell we have lots of pictures of our older kid in a dress when he was that little (I bought like a year+ worth of clothes at thrift shops before I knew the gender of the kid I was pregnant with, since we didn’t find out ‘til he was born), and he never said he was a girl and is at the age of almost 5 very confident he's a boy (so much so that he doesn't want to do "things that girls do" except like his rubrics for deciding what are girl things are hilarious he went on this whole spiel about how Glitter Force is a girl show...while he was watching the Equestria HS spin off of MLP...and asking for sparkles on top of his blue nail polish please...anyway tangent sorry.)

What "made" the little a girl was that *she told us she's a girl* like I can't fathom why people think this is complicated? It’s not like she magically transformed one day, she was always a girl, she just couldn’t tell us. No one knows her better than she knows herself. I'm positive she knew all along, her language skills just hadn't developed enough to communicate. After she was able to tell us, and we started using the right pronouns, her behavior improved a lot. The most memorable thing - a few days after she told us she and I were sitting in the master bedroom while my wife was taking her meds. She did something cute, and I said, “awww, my sweet girl!” and she just lit up, “yes, girl!” So I asked her “does it make you happy when I call you a girl?” and she said, “yes, was sad.” (remember, she’s barely over two when this happened, so, like, not so much on sentences) and so I clarified, “you were sad before?” and she nodded and said, “yes...now happy!” 

It was mindblowing. She was so clear about how she felt and what she wanted. I can’t believe anyone, even my MIL, could have heard that conversation and not recognized that this child knew who she was. (I wrote the conversation down, for obvious reasons...we did show it to my MIL, and, well...sigh). My wife told me that she also started telling a lot of stories at bedtime about her stuffed toys feeling broken, but starting to feel better now... (my wife does the little’s bedtime, I do the big’s.)

Other than pronouns and gender id she's the same kid she's always been, her favorite colors are pink and purple, she loves dresses and skirts and rainbows (and Glitter Force, lol) and also loves trains and stuff...because she's a *kid* ffs. And if at some point she does come think this is the wrong thing for her, no harm done, we'll listen. By listening now, we've proven that. She knows she can trust us, and we'll support her and encourage her. I really don't see a losing side to this.

I saw a theory that what freaks people out is they think we're gonna give, like, hormones to a two year old? Which of course not. But if she still feels this way in a decade or so of course medical intervention will start to be a topic...but by then she'll have felt this way for years so what's the problem? It’d be cruel to force her, a girl, to go through male puberty, and anyone thinks that an eleven or twelve year old doesn’t understand enough to make that decision has never met an eleven or twelve year old, like, ever.

I can only assume that the adults like you mention can't remember what it felt like to be a kid. By the time I was the age my big is my parents had gotten divorced and I thought I was a very big, mature girl, and if anyone had tried to dismiss me the way I see many adults dismiss kids I would have been livid. I guess I was lucky, the adults in my life mostly took me seriously (and now those same adults - my parents - have been great toward the little, especially my mom, which proves its not an age or race thing since my dad is a 79 year old straight white god fearing literally runs his church's services once a month dude, and my step mom and mom are both 76 and also white, and they've all been super accepting.) To me it seems stupidly obvious, like...my kids may not know some stuff but they know themselves and I learn more just by listening to them than I'd ever figure out on my own.

My job as their mom is to help them figure out who they are, not force them to be who I think they should be. And I hate that more parents aren't like that, sigh, but I think more are now than ever before, and things will slowly but surely get better. I have to believe that...

(Sorry this got long, by necessity I've thought about this a lot...we're very lucky, family, friends and community the only person who got really weird on us was my MIL, and even she really is trying now...)

#unforth replies #quiltbag #wonder if this will bring any assholes out of the woodwork #oh well

[pebblysand]

[LET'S TALK WRITING!] - [10 DEC 2021]

taking random questions from fanfic/writing ask games and answering one a day in the lead up to christmas. because i can i’m bored. if you have any questions for me about my fics or writing in general, feel free to ask! also, if anyone else wants to do this advent calendar thing, please be my guest!

.

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction? (fanfic writer ask)

i want to say thirteen? maybe twelve? obviously, that's not counting school papers and things which, at that age, are often disguised fanfiction ("continue this story as if ..."). i'd always been a kid who liked writing (i remember being 4/5 yo and not knowing how to write and "dictating" stories for my babysitters to write for me!) but i think 12/13 is the age i became aware of fanfiction, when the internet became more accessible at home (i.e. the modem didn't charge per minute of consumption anymore - the good old days, haha!).

when you're that age, you're not scared and generally think you're the shit (or at least i did), so i started writing and posting almost right away. people read it (like, loads. i had a blog that got around 50 hits/day!!) which baffles me retrospectively cause it was bad. i wrote mostly in french and made the switch to english around... 15, i want to say? sadly, i don't have anything left from my "french" era - i used to post on fanblogs and platforms that have since died and the contents of which have disappeared. my fanfiction.net account dates from 13 Jan 2007 (coming on FIFTEEN YEARS), however, and that still has the very fist fic i published in english - i was 15 and if you look at the a/n, i lied and said i was 16 because i thought people would take me more seriously hahaha. it's like the cutest, funniest, teenage thing.

as a side note, i think i've said this before but i've always felt very strongly about keeping my early work online. obviously, you grow up and you see the kind of thing you used to write and you cringe, but to me, it's very important for other young writers to see "where i come from", so to speak. when i was that age (maybe 15/16), i remember reading a fic from an author i absolutely adored. i scrolled down their profile page and read everything they'd ever written (as you do) and found that their early work was... meh? at least not as good as their current work was. and i remember thinking: wow, they really got better as they kept writing! and, so that was my incentive to keep writing, too. and so now, as a 28 year old, it's very important for me that someone who may now be the age i was at the time, if they really like my writing and scroll down for whatever reason, they find that my early work was crap and that i got better. i think that's super important. not all of it is on ao3 because ao3 started later and i couldn't be arsed to transfer everything over, but it's still (and will always be) up on ff.

#pebblysand's ask advent calendar

[kazoo-the-demjin]

what’s up with the boat thing Tay

Okay so from the starting Aria decided we should go on a road trip and i was designing a bus but i made a typo and wrote 'ship' instead of a truck and we decided we'd go on a water road trip cruise.

But then Liz decided on living upto the name of the court and said why not be pirates.

so here was what i planned- we get divided into two teams-Liz's and Aria's ff- and we get these two huge ships which i will design, and we go on a full fledged war, those who will not partake will be called seasick suckers (because im creative like that). Someone (ig Lyn) decided we get small boats for the teams and the ship for all of us because we one big ✨fam✨ (liz agreed because why would she agree with me)

So leaving that i said we should decide teams when aria is online and both of them call out the members one by one (whoever gets chosen first, this way) but liz is her own god and listen to no one so she announced her members (anyone who's not tan) and she will accept people from only those 5-6 people whom she named.

So that's the boat thing for you, ig. the way this is turning out i don't think and want this to happen anymore, and btw if it does i'll be moderating and not be in any team.

(btw you were one of her chosen ones in case you missed that)

@investmentofmyheart @confused-as-all-hell @twelve-kinds-of-trouble

#court of chaos #water road trip #cruise #fighting #pirates #war #death #sacrifice #drowning #seasick suckers #family #enemies #rivalry #blood

[katierosefun]

ever in our favor

Summary: Anakin Skywalker liked to think he wasn't afraid of anything.Ahsoka Tano liked to think no one was afraid of her.Obi-Wan Kenobi liked to think he was too smart to be afraid.[or: the Hunger Games/TCW AU. Three different tributes from three different districts. A tech-whiz, a thief, and the son of a Victor who was cast into the Games on purpose. Happy Hunger Games, everyone.]

read on ao3 | read on ff 

wc: 5509

Anakin Skywalker liked to think he wasn’t afraid of anything.

He wasn’t afraid of Peacekeepers, for one thing, not when he could easily outrun any of them. Not that he had had to, not in a long time. He had once had to outrun them when he was little, back when it was easier for his mom to defend him against his stupid little tricks with the electricity or the radio system. He hadn’t meant to mess around with the radios, but he had, and he was pretty sure he somehow transmitted some music from District 11. He had thought it was rather nice, but then Peacekeepers had started looking for him, and his mother had insisted that Anakin was just a “silly little boy” who played with the dials because he had nothing better to do so please, punish me instead—

His mom had been punished that day, in the end. Tied to a post and whipped, and Anakin had screamed himself hoarse, and one of the other women had tugged Anakin aside, forced him to not watch, but Anakin could still hear the whip fall, and he could still hear his mom’s just barely restrained screams. No one had been allowed to touch her even long after the Peacekeeper had finished. Anakin remembered that it was summer, and it was hot, and he remembered being scared only then, even after his mom healed with the help of some of the other men and women in the district.

“Don’t be afraid, Ani,” his mom had said to him later that night, brushing her thumb across his cheek. “Because as soon as you’re afraid, that makes them happy.”

So he decided not to be afraid.

He wouldn’t be afraid—he won’t be afraid, not even if his name had been cast into the lottery more times this year than ever before.

Just twelve times, he thought. Things could be worse. He could have his name put in there nearly forty times, fifty times, which he knew some unlucky folks did for their families. But Anakin just had his mom and himself—no siblings, no dad. Just the two of them. Shmi and Anakin Skywalker.

Just twelve times.

And there weren’t even going to be as many tributes this year—there was only going to be one chosen per district this year for the Third Quarter Quell. Unusual, Anakin knew, but the president had promised that fewer tributes would mean an even more exciting game. Deadlier traps, higher stakes. Draw out the game longer than they had in previous years. Make people more desperate.

“You should eat something,” Shmi said now, pushing bread Anakin’s way.

Anakin looked down and found that it wasn’t the brown, hard stuff that his mom and he had to have most of the time. He found a round, soft roll instead, one without burn marks or mold or anything. Anakin looked back up, surprised.

Shmi smiled. “A gift,” she said. “Our neighbors wish us well.” She pushed the roll a little closer to Anakin. “Now go on, eat.”

He wasn’t really hungry—he wasn’t sure anyone was, not on Reaping Day, but—

Anakin tore the roll in half and pressed one half into his mom’s reluctant hand. “We’ll both need it,” he said, flashing his mom a quick smile. He stood up, forced himself to take a bite. They ate in silence.

The bread seemed to clog itself in Anakin’s throat, and for a moment, he wondered if he wouldn’t be able to swallow—but he eventually did, and then he heard the bells sound across the district.

A quiet gasp—not from himself, but from his mother, who reached over and grabbed his hand in sudden desperation.

“It’s okay,” Anakin said. He squeezed back his mom’s hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” He looked at his mom, smiled again. “What happened to not being afraid?”

A silence passed, and then Shmi gave Anakin a weak smile. “You’re right,” she said after a little while. She lifted a hand, brushed her thumb under his eye like he was a nine-year old again. “I’m not afraid at all.”

“That’s the spirit,” Anakin said. He tugged at his mom’s hands. “Come on,” he said. “After this, we can listen to that music again. The singing, remember?”

Shmi’s face faltered for a moment. “You really should stop…”

“They haven’t caught me yet,” Anakin said with forced lightness. Not since he was nine years old, at least. Seven more years of getting familiar with the technology and goings-on of his district had taught him to be nimbler and smarter with what he did when he did them.

“No,” Shmi said. “I suppose they haven’t.” She squeezed Anakin’s hand again.

And they headed out to greet the rest of District 3.

--

Ahsoka Tano liked to think no one was afraid of her.

She used that to her advantage—she always had, ever since she was a little girl. She was smaller than most of the girls and boys her age, both in height and frame. So that made her forgettable. Peacekeepers were less likely to be suspicious of a small girl, and the others were less likely to point fingers at someone as seemingly innocent as herself. But Ahsoka knew the truth about her own self: she’d known enough about herself to use that appearance to her advantage, starting from when she was old enough to work in the fields. Her baggy clothes made for useful ways to pocket more food and sneak back to her dad and her friends.

And she hadn’t been caught once—the Peacekeepers hadn’t ever noticed, and Ahsoka had always been careful to swipe only enough in haphazard places. The closest she ever got to getting caught was the time she stole a whole loaf of bread from a Peacekeeper, but by the time he had discovered the thieving, Ahsoka and the other field workers had already been long gone, and luckily, the Peacekeeper’s dog had been close enough to be the suspected thief instead.

She got away with those little things easily, and no one ever suspected her. So Ahsoka told herself that if she got chosen, then—

Ahsoka curled her hands over her lap.

But she didn’t want to be chosen—

She couldn’t be chosen. This was only her second year. She only had her name in three times. Her three older brothers—Wolffe, Boost, Sinker, and Comet—all had their names in more times than her, Wolffe with the highest: forty-two pieces of paper with his name would be in the lottery today. Eighteen years old and covering for all five members of their family. And Ahsoka knew that next year, Boost would be the one covering for all of the, and then the year after that, Sinker, and then Comet.

A part of Ahsoka wondered if her dad ever regretted having as many children as he did—they weren’t even technically related, not by blood anyways. But Plo Koon had always been a man with more heart than he probably needed, and there were many starving babies left on porches a decade or so ago, when District 11 got hit with an unexpected frost overnight.

The only real blood relations might be amongst Ahsoka’s brothers—they had been a whole set, Wolffe being the oldest and drifting along with his younger brothers when Plo Koon found them hovering near the market.

As for Ahsoka, she was told that she had just been dropped at Plo Koon’s doorstep in the middle of the night, and that had been that. Ahsoka didn’t try to figure out who her birth parents were—as far as she was considered, Plo Koon was her dad, and that was all that mattered.

Ahsoka curled her hands over her knees. She glanced around her room—really, the whole family’s room, separated only by curtains, but she liked her little space. She fingered the hem of her skirt: a pretty red thing that fell right above her knees. She had only worn it once before, on her birthday. She thought it was fitting that she should wear it on Reaping Day.

The slight brush of a hand against the curtain behind her was what brought Ahsoka’s head up.

“There you are,” Plo Koon said, sitting down next to Ahsoka on her bed. “I figured you might be here.”

Ahsoka smiled. Tried to smile. “Do we need to go?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Plo Koon replied. He turned around, and Ahsoka smelled the flowers before seeing them first. She smiled for real this time as Plo Koon tucked a red-orange flower right into her hair. “Do you know what this is?”

Ahsoka concentrated for a moment, trying to remember, and then she said, “Marigolds. Tagetes patula, to be exact.”

“Correct,” Plo Koon said, his eyes wrinkling a little bit at the corners as he smiled. He leaned back, tilted his head, and suddenly that smile turned sad, and Ahsoka knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking and dreading the same exact thing too.

There was the sound of rushing feet and curtains being batted aside, and suddenly, Wolffe and the others were crowded around Ahsoka’s little space, breathing hard but eyes bright. Ahsoka knew that they had just spent the last few minutes running through the district—they always did, to work off the nerves and, as Sinker once put it, “to piss off the Peacekeepers one last time”—even though all the Peacekeepers were busy with the Reaping Day preparations. (“Don’t,” Wolffe would always groan.)

“Look at you,” Comet was saying, flashing Ahsoka a grin. “Nice flower.”

“Don’t laugh,” Ahsoka said, flicking Comet on the shoulder. She nodded at Plo Koon. “He got some for you guys, too.”

“That’s true,” Plo Koon said. “Come here, boys.”

“Dad—”

“Come on, I think we’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

Some grumbling and laughter later, and the whole family had flowers tucked behind their ears.

Boost and Sinker looked at each other, snickered, and then bowed their heads, nearly knocking their foreheads together. (“You look lovely, Sinker.” “No, you, I insist—”)

Ahsoka smiled at her family. They would be just fine, she told herself. She looked up at Wolffe last, who was watching their brothers with some restrained amusement. Wolffe caught her staring, and he smiled—rare, coming from him, but Ahsoka figured that they all needed it.

We’ll be fine, she thought again. She adjusted the flower in her hair and looked out the window, where people were already starting to trail out of their homes. They would be just fine.

--

Obi-Wan Kenobi liked to think that he was too smart to be afraid.

Being afraid made people lose focus, made them do stupid things like run or jump without looking where they were heading. That was what he had learned from his time watching countless games, ever since he was a child. He would watch them even when his father wasn’t, because even though his father was one of the many famed Victors of their district, Obi-Wan liked to be prepared.

Which was why he had taken to learning and quietly training on his own when he was little—and then his father had caught him, and instead of reprimanding him, Qui-Gon Jinn had only adjusted Obi-Wan’s grip on the makeshift spear he had made for himself (really nothing more than a large stick that Obi-Wan had sharpened to a point).

And of course, the Peacekeepers, had they seen anything, didn’t argue. Secret training in preparation for the games was commonplace enough in District 1. If anything, it would have been strange if the Victors didn’t train their own children, blood-related or not.

Obi-Wan pushed himself away from the back door of the house—mansion, really, but Obi-Wan always referred to it as a house in his own mind. He stepped across the backyard, looked at the lemon trees that made a semi-circle around the perimeter of the yard. Obi-Wan reached out for one, scratched at the peel. Rolled it between his hands. Wondered if there would be any trees in the arena. One time the games had been a frozen wasteland, which hadn’t been fun—most of the tributes had just froze to death, with lips blue and eyes still open. There had been a desert before too, all dunes of orange and yellow sand, and that had gone poorly as well. Most tributes either went mad with thirst or simply laid down and refused to get back up due to the heat.

“Here again?”

Obi-Wan turned to find Qui-Gon standing at the back door.

Obi-Wan held up the lemon in his hand. “This was about to fall off anyways,” he said, tossing the fruit over to Qui-Gon.

His father caught it one-handed. “So it was,” he said. He looked up at Obi-Wan. “What do you see?”

“Seven lemon trees,” Obi-Wan said. “One of the trees is growing sick. We’ll have to take care of it soon.”

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched. “What else?”

Your shirt’s looser than it was last week, Obi-Wan thought. Dark circles under his father’s eyes, skin paler than normal.

Obi-Wan said as much.

Qui-Gon smiled. “Good observations,” he said.

Obi-Wan didn’t smile back. He took another lemon from the tree, found the grey rot on its underside. He frowned, tucked the lemon in his own pocket to dispose of it properly later. He looked back to his father, found that Qui-Gon’s smile had faded.

“When you go into the arena,” he said, “you’ll have to make sure you’re always observing. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, walking back to the back door. He started to walk past Qui-Gon, but his father caught him by the shoulder.

Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked back down at Obi-Wan intently. A moment passed before he said at last, “I’m sorry that it has to come down to this.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Obi-Wan said. He took out the rotting lemon in his pocket and stepped through the back door. He threw it in the bin, where it landed with a satisfying thunk. The bin had been meters and meters away, but Obi-Wan’s aim had been perfect.

He saw Qui-Gon nod—just the slightest tilt of his head to signal his approval.

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon. “When she calls my name,” he said, “am I supposed to react in any particular way?”

“Don’t look afraid,” Qui-Gon replied.

“I won’t.” Obi-Wan turned to the hall mirror, adjusted his clothes: a white shirt, dark trousers. They didn’t need any actual adjusting, not with the clothes tailored specifically to his size and shape, but still. Obi-Wan made eye-contact with Qui-Gon standing behind him.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea what the other tributes will be like this year,” Obi-Wan said, moreso a statement than a question.

“They’ll be more desperate,” Qui-Gon said.

Everyone was going to be desperate.

Obi-Wan nodded anyways, straightened himself one last time. Then the bells were ringing over the district, signaling everyone to come for the Reaping. A part of Obi-Wan wished that they didn’t all have to gather in one place—really, there was no point, when he knew that he was going to get chosen anyways. Not that anyone else did.

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon.

“I’ll see you on the train,” Qui-Gon said. “And remember: play the part.”

Play the part—be the triumphant, happy Career, son of the Victor that Panem expected. Proud to get a chance to prove to the rest of Panem that he was, in fact, just as much the talented and clever soon-to-be-victor that his own father was.

Obi-Wan nodded.

--

There were too many people clustered in one area, and there wasn’t enough space.

Really, Anakin wished that the Peacekeepers could have chosen someplace else to hold the reaping, but the Hall of Justice had to do, even though the inside hall was too small to fit everyone inside. There were a few children in the roped-off sections outside. Anakin didn’t know why they couldn’t all be outside, with at least more room to breathe, but there was something about apparently the back mural of the Hall of Justice—a ridiculous piece commemorating the Capitol—that was perfectly perfect for the rest of the Capitol audience.

Anakin didn’t like the mural. There were too many bright colors, and the faces looked all wrong.

He turned to find his mom. She was standing at the other end of the hall, where all the other parents were. Shmi caught his eye and smiled weakly, fluttering her fingers over at him.

Anakin smiled back, but then the sound of someone clearing a throat drew everyone’s attention back to the front.

“Welcome!” a man in a ridiculously flashy, ridiculously golden suit smiled blandly at the crowd. Anakin couldn’t help himself: he laughed a little to himself. Everyone knew who Threepio was, the escort well-known for his silly little tirades about nothing in particular. “Ah, there are quite a lot of you, aren’t there—yes, more faces than last year…” An awkward little laugh to himself, which no one responded to.

“Well, yes,” Threepio said, blinking down at them all. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds—”

Be ever in your favor, Anakin finished for him.

“Today, we are joined by—ah, yes, Miss Amidala, hello, ma’am, so good to see you today!”

There was a sudden rustling in the crowd as everyone lifted their heads at the name.

Including Anakin’s, as he watched District 3’s sole victor walk across the makeshift stage.

She wasn’t that much older than him—Anakin remembered her own games five years ago, back when she was eighteen and he was thirteen. He couldn’t remember much then, except that he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world, with dark hair and even darker eyes. The other tribute had been his age too. Another thirteen year old boy, who Anakin watched die with a spear in his chest.

“Thank you, Threepio,” Padmé Amidala said now, tilting her head at Threepio. She looked out to the crowd, and Anakin’s breath caught in his throat.

“Now we can begin!” Threepio said in that blandly cheerful voice. He turned to the little crystal ball full of leaflets.

Anakin turned to his mother again.

But Shmi wasn’t looking at him—she was whispering something into a crying woman’s ear, probably reassuring her of whatever was to come.

And then someone jostled into Anakin, and for a moment, all he felt was himself being shoved to the ground—someone had fainted, he realized, and he looked down to shake the person next to him awake, come on, get up, don’t do this now—

The boy—because it had been a boy who had fainted right into Anakin, blinked up at him with glazed eyes. “I don’t wanna go,” he whispered.

“You won’t,” Anakin whispered back. “Just get up, before you create a scene. Okay?”

The boy only whimpered, curled in on himself. He couldn’t have been that much older than twelve. Anakin looked around, wondering if he had any siblings, anyone who could—

“Listen,” Anakin said, looking back down at the boy. “Don’t be afraid. Okay?” He tugged at the boy’s arm, forcing him upright. “Because as soon as you’re afraid, that’s when you make them happy. And we can’t let that happen, can we?”

The boy’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Can we?” Anakin repeated.

The boy shook his head.

“Great,” Anakin said. “Good.” He tugged the boy up to his feet. “So come on. Don’t be scared now—” But then he realized that there were other eyes on him, not just the boy beside him. He could feel the shift in the air, the sudden turn of heads.

Anakin paused, and then he looked up.

“Anakin Skywalker?” Threepio’s voice called. He was craning his neck over the microphone, hand over his eyes. “Is that you over there, boy?”

Anakin stared.

Mom, where’s Mom—

Anakin looked to the side.

He found Shmi staring back at him, her eyes wide and fearful, hand clapped over her mouth because—

Oh, he realized. He hadn’t heard Threepio the first time, because he had been busy with the kid—

“Anakin Skywalker, if you can come up now please—”

Anakin slowly turned back around to the stage. He heard, rather than saw, the others shift around him. People slowly stepping out of his way, creating a straight path between himself and the stage.

Anakin took one step.

Two steps.

And then he was walking across the hall, to the stage.

He climbed up, hoping that his steps were steady. He wasn’t sure if they were.

“Ah, yes,” Threepio said from somewhere in front of him. “Here we are.”

Anakin lifted his eyes. He saw a blur of a face, realized then that there was a hand guiding his back so that he could turn to the crowd. “Our tribute from District 3!”

Anakin looked to the crowd. Mom, where’s Mom—

But he couldn’t see anyone’s faces. The lights were too bright, and there were suddenly so many cameras, and Anakin could only blink at them all. He felt a cold hand wrap around his wrist, hoist it into the air.

Our tribute from District 3—

--

There were too many people clustered in one area, and there wasn’t even a breeze to keep off the heat.

Ahsoka swiped at the sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She was glad that her clothes were relatively light, but still. She looked over at her brothers, who were all lined up together near the back. Ahsoka catches their eyes, and they all make a face at her. The joke is clear: bored already.

Ahsoka stifles a smile and turns to the front, surprised to find that there is a different escort than the one that usually greeted the tributes. Gone was the previous Capitol man with his strange assortment of clothing and wigs, but instead, there was a pale—remarkably pale—woman with long legs and a completely shaved head save for a few elaborate purple tattoos.

“Look alive,” the escort said, bored. There was a little bit of a rustling amongst the crowd at that—look alive hardly seemed like the appropriate greeting, but—

“Ah, yes, and welcome to the Hunger Games, Reaping, et cetera.” The woman’s sharp eyes surveyed the crowd for a full second before adding, “We might as well get started. Our dear victor isn’t able to make an appearance today, caught up with very important matters all relating to the games, of course, and et cetera.”

You already said that, Ahsoka thought.

“So let’s just get this show started, shall we?” The woman reached into the crystal ball faster than Ahsoka anticipated, and something in her lurched because she wasn’t ready for it to be done that quickly—

Ahsoka blindly turned to her brothers again, and they were already waiting for.

Wolffe mouthed something: it’s fine, and then—

“Ahsoka Tano.”

Ahsoka was still looking at her brothers, so she saw the horror on their faces before she felt her own.

And then Wolffe started moving forward, which was how Ahsoka knew that wait, this was happening, and wait, what was Wolffe doing—

“I volunteer,” Wolffe said quickly, stepping out onto the path between the boys and the girls. “In Ahsoka Tano’s place—I volunteer as tribute.”

Ahsoka’s ears rang. Wait, Wolffe, no—

A silence, and then the escort smiled. Ahsoka wasn’t sure how she could be smiling at a time like this, but the escort only lifted up the leaflet bearing Ahsoka’s name. “Sorry, sweetheart,” the woman said, “but president’s orders. No volunteers for this Quarter Quell.”

Another ripple through the crowd at that news.

“Wait—” Wolffe started. “But we didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t hear it yet,” the woman said, folding the leaflet in her hands with a few deft strokes. “News gets around the districts slow, doesn’t it? But rules are rules.” Her sharp eyes combed through the crowd. “Now, Ahsoka Tano, do come up—we’ve got a long day ahead of us, and the day’s rather hot.”

Ahsoka didn’t feel hot at all. She was cold all over.

Ahsoka looked at her brothers again. They were all staring at her, pained and wide-eyed, and she saw a sudden burst of movement—but then Wolffe was holding them back because the Peacekeepers were suddenly closer now.

It’s fine, Ahsoka thought. She looked at her brothers, gave them a tight nod. I’ll be fine.

She wondered where her dad was. She didn’t know where he went or where he was located here—probably with the other parents, but what was he doing now? She dully hoped that there was someone around to comfort him, because no one could move until she left with her escort.

Ahsoka made her way to the front, hearing only the whispers of some of the other girls as she weaved through them. For a moment, she thought they wouldn’t let her get past. It was almost as though all the other girls were desperately trying to keep her in, keep her from entering the games, and the thought almost made Ahsoka stop walking altogether.

Someone squeezed Ahsoka’s arm. She wasn’t sure who, but then someone else was touching her shoulder, another was brushing the hair from her face, another was readjusting the flower near her ear. And Ahsoka emerged from the crowd with the ghost of touches from the others in her district, and then she was at the front of the stage, looking up at the pale, long-legged woman.

“Well, come on up,” the woman said, jerking her head.

Ahsoka straightened her shoulders. Headed for the stairs. She looked to the back of the stage—thought she saw something moving in the background, but then she was being turned to look at the cameras gathered around her.

A pat on her shoulder from the woman. Her hand was cold.

“Our tribute from District 11,” the woman said flatly to the cameras. She looked down at Ahsoka, nodded her head to the cameras again. “Anything in particular you want to say while the cameras are still rolling, sweetheart? Give a good first impression for all of us?”

Ahsoka stared up at the woman. This wasn’t usually how most reapings went—she wasn’t sure if this new escort was making fun of her or not.

Ahsoka looked to the cameras.

People aren’t afraid of you, a voice whispered at the back of her head. Make them keep thinking that.

So Ahsoka only smiled—her sweetest, most naïve smile, the kind that she only ever gave when she was trying to wheedle her brothers into doing something for her. She twirled a strand of her dark hair around a finger and waved at the camera until her wrist hurt.

--

Obi-Wan didn’t care if there were too many people clustered around the area. He’d be separated from the rest soon enough.

He saw some boys and girls toss curious glances his way. Some sneers, but most just watched him with a wary eye. Obi-Wan already knew most of them were running statistics in their heads: trying to guess whether or not he would be able to get drawn. He was eighteen—his name would have technically only been cast seven times, and he didn’t have any need to cast his name any more than that.

Obi-Wan didn’t bother meeting the stares of those who looked at him. Let them stare, he decided. He would be under the attention of the entire country in just a few minutes anyways, and in just a few days, he would be under the attention of the entire country for hours on end. He might as well get some more practice now.

Not that he hadn’t had practice before. Being the Victor’s son always got him an extra glance or two in school, in the streets. He remembered a boy had once asked him if his father ever told him stories of the games, so Obi-Wan had made one up on the spot, just so the boy could leave him alone.

The truth was Qui-Gon didn’t tell Obi-Wan too much of his own experience in the games. There had been some clips played, of course, during each reaping—clips of his father emerging victorious out of a dense jungle with mud and blood splattered across his face, but he had been standing defiant until the very end.

Obi-Wan figured he wouldn’t get a jungle, not for his games. The game-makers didn’t like repeating themselves, and from what Obi-Wan had watched from the recordings of his own father’s time at the games, he was a little glad he wouldn’t be stuck in a jungle. There had been great bugs that sucked their victims dry of blood, suffocating mists that left their victims choking on their own vomit and spit, vines that came to life and tried strangling their victims to death whenever things got a little too slow. Obi-Wan had watched a clip of his own father use one of those vines to his own advantage, somehow manipulating them into choking one of his pursuers instead.

Qui-Gon had shut off the television after finding Obi-Wan watching that recording.

They hadn’t spoken about it afterwards, and when Obi-Wan went to search for the recording of those games again, he found that they were deleted from the television. He was fairly sure the Capitol didn’t allow such behavior, but he didn’t ask questions, and his father didn’t give him any answers.

Obi-Wan watched some of the clips from the previous games play before him now: shots of his father, and then shots of the other victors from the past in their final moments. Most of the victors were from District 1, District 2, District 4. All of the more favored districts. But there was the occasional victor from the other districts—Mace Windu from District 7, Quinlan Vos from District 5, Luminara Unduli from District 8, and most recently, a young girl named Katooni from District 12. That had been a surprise to all—the girl was no more than twelve years old, and yet everyone had watched her confuse her opponent into falling off the edge of a cliff. There weren’t any other living victors from District 12—Obi-Wan tried to imagine this child now attempting to mentor and get sponsorships for someone who might potentially be older than herself.

And now, finally, the escort—a young, blonde woman who Obi-Wan knew as Satine Kryze, although he couldn’t be sure that was her real name—all the Capitol people made up their own names by the day, it seemed. He had only ever met her a few times, once in his own home. She couldn’t have been that much older than himself, and he remembered being confused why there was a random girl in the hallway, but then she had just given him a quick, appraising look before walking out.

Obi-Wan only found out that he was to be the new escort a few weeks ago, and now, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Qui-Gon had told him that the girl in their home was to be the escort, he wouldn’t have guessed looking at Satine now: she was dressed in a particularly voluminous blue dress, her hair piled atop her head in an elaborate headset.

“Welcome,” Satine said now, nodding at the crowd as though they were all good friends. “And welcome to the 75th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.” Her lips curled into a slight smile, as though she knew something that the rest of the district didn’t. For all Obi-Wan knew, she might already know what the game makers were planning. He didn’t put it past the escorts for his district to somehow already have some inside knowledge with the rest of the games.

And beside Satine, Obi-Wan saw his father. Still wearing the same loose shirt, loose pants that was only halfheartedly held up by a belt, but someone had applied enough makeup to reduce the dark circles under his eyes.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” Satine repeated, and then she dipped her hand into the bowl.

And when she said his name—it didn’t matter if his name wasn’t actually on the leaflet she had pulled, she would say his name anyways, that was the deal, Obi-Wan knew, Obi-Wan pressed through the crowd without a second thought. It wasn’t difficult for him to keep his shoulders back, chin up.

Don’t look afraid, Qui-Gon had told him.

Only idiots get afraid, Obi-Wan thought. He kept his hands at his sides, mounted the stairs to the stage. Satine and Qui-Gon both looked at him, gave him a slight nod as he made his way to the front of the stage.

He looked at the cameras and smiled.

Let the games begin.

#tcw #tcw fic #star wars #the clone wars #swtcw #sw #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #thg #the hunger games #my fic #well HERE WE GOOO