#these tags are probably going to piss off anyone searching for them

[totallynotagentphilcoulson]

Graphic Design is My Passion™️

(I rediscovered the modern iteration of MS Paint during some downtime at work on Saturday. My dicking around very quickly went from “let’s make fake stained glass designs” to the rest of it)

#photo #art #lisa frank #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #hotel transylvania #Bluey #paleoart #these tags are probably going to piss off anyone searching for them #so I apologize but also not rly I want to have this fit onto my blog’s tag system

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn

[divinityiswasted]

A Tentative Timeline of DOS2

Ok Divinity peeps here is a tentative timeline for the events surrounding DOS2. Please read more for notes, annotations, and takeaways:

Annotations (bc it's too much text for ALT):

1218 AD:

Lucian Ascends. Saves and adopts an infant Damien. Alexandar is not yet born.

1233:

Great War Starts.

Sometime in 1233:

Great War Ends.

Elven Forest Destroyed by Deathfog.

Lucian Declared Dead.

First Godwoken Killed by Lone Wolves.

1234:

First Lucian's Day.

First Voidwoken appears.

1235:

Alexandar takes over the Divine Order.

1236:

First Sourcerers are detained to Fort Joy.

1242:

Seven prisoners survive a shipwreck and land at Fort Joy. (Start of DOS2)

1244:

Fallen Heroes is said to take place.

Notes from Chart:

It is unclear if the war against the Black Ring in 1233 is the Great War or the Chaos War. I refer to it as the Great War but the text of the game and the lorebook uses both interchangeably

Most points (save Lucian's ascension and Fallen Heroes date) are taken from DOS2 files, DLC, Wiki, and Mortismal Gaming (all linked below). You can take the Fallen Heroes date with a grain of salt (bc who knows when/if it'll come out.) but I wanted to include it's date to further the idea that the DOS2 journey has space to take as long as you the player wants. A 2 week sprint around the Rivellon is just as valid as the 2 years.

You can use the comic as a resource for events note. But it doesn't specify years you're free to add them wherever they make the most sense to you.

Lucian is confirmed "dead" sometime in 1233 before 1234. This is bc the first celebration of Lucian's day and hope for new Divine.

The Great War is separated bc there's nothing that states how long it was.

Notes:

I have a file that contains basically every text seen in dos2 if you need it I've linked it HERE. (You can open this file on notepad, wordpad, or any richtext editor (not Microsoft Word mine crashed ;w;). You could probably edit out the content id tags to make searching easier but those help me realize we're on a new line of text so i keep them.) I basically input every year from 1218 - 1242 AD to check and see if there's any info in regards to things happening that year. I combined my sources with two timelines I had seen from both the wiki (HERE) and Mortismal Gaming (HERE).

Sidenote, shoutout to the wiki which also has a written copy of a lot of the notes in game (HERE). While I recommend people do runs to better understand the origin characters (for example did you know in an origin run Ifan cannot say whatever pisses off Paladin Hardwin to say that he won't have his comrades sacrifice be shoved in his face) and what's going on in their heads, the wiki does a fantastic job of catching some things you might not see on your run. You can't screenshot everything (my computer is calling me a hypocrite i can hear them) and the wiki is a great resource.

Takeaways and what we can do with this info:

I set out with this timeline to figure out one thing. Originally, I wanted to know what reasonable age Ifan could be at the start of DOS2. I got a range of numbers that'd make sense for how I view his character and then was able to make headcanons for every other character based on that. For me tacking down Ifan's life gives me some ideas on when Sebille was taken, how old the Red Prince may be, and when did Beast get exiled. It doesn't help as much for Lohse (who I just think is the baby of the group) and Fane (listen if i just say he's over a millennia old would you all take it?). And in order to do that I needed to know some of the basic events happening in and around DOS2.

I the goal in making this timeline going over the general happening around DOS2's start is to help anyone with fleshing out character HCs and worldbuilding. It helps me when writing to know what things exist in a universe so I add on what I like or highlight parts of history. (I also bc I wanted to give the origin characters a zodiac shhhhh.)

One of the shortcomings of this is that this timeline has a lot of room to expand bc a lot of documents are very human focused/written. For example there's info in the comics that shows there's tension between dwarves and lizards that isn't dated but you could tack one down. I wish Larian had tacked down one event per race (for example: let's say in 1231 the dwarves begin to express concern due to expansions of the ancient Empire into dwarven land) but alas it didn't happen. I also wanted to avoid adding any of my own HCs because the divinity journey is your own and I would like to provide a general resources for those that might need it. If this helps others build their own timeline and world then I did my job. I'll make a separate post maybe one day on each of the characters and the timelines I make for them but that's a problem for future me.

Please lemme know if this helps at all if there's things I can expound upon.

#dos2 #divinity original sin 2 #worldbuilding #headcanons #i hope this uploads right #and that it helps people #i need charts to understand things and break info down

[lovelyrose20]

Listen I know it’s a lot is happening and normally I don’t like making posts about giant dramas of the day because I’m gonna be real here. I don’t give a damn for the little shit and sometimes it’s just tiring But I think the biggest problem when it comes to the community is the fact that people tend to try to split things between each other or try to go to two opposite extremes even if it’s something small

Like oh Quackity is a horrible asshole who didn’t respond to Dream for a few week and totally know about the harassment including the awful threats against his family

I’m not an expert but unless I missed something and the threats were actively in the top search of QSMP or Quackity tags in the Spanish side of things talking about all those horrible things involving Dream’s family. I highly doubt that Quackity would’ve read all of them, and even if he did, it will probably just be saying bad things, not straight up, threatening and making assassination attempts over a minecraft server because I doubt he would be happy at the threats even if he didn’t say it publicly. I think there’s a better way he could’ve handle it rather than just ignoring it and hoping that if he just not feed the mob, they would calm down eventually since sometimes a Twitter mob would not calm down even if you give it time. But that doesn’t mean he deserve harassment over it or being called an awful friend or people badmouthing his server and the people in it because of stupid decision on his part.

Oh Dream secretly want people to be harassed and that’s the reason why he wrote a a 10 page Twitter post.

Whatever you feel about him now and even though that, I think there’s better ways to explain the situation, and airing out friendship beef is not a good idea on principle because that would just make the situation worse, explaining that you want your friend to tell his community not to harass people and talking about how you were threatened over the similarities of a Minecraft server that we don’t even know is copying shit, with the only thing being that they are multiple languages and because he got bad timing is not him being an asshole. The worst I will say is that he was being irresponsible and emotional ass, but I don’t think he was being evil or trying to induce a riot. Especially when it’s involved his family being in danger which would pissed anyone off

Tommy shouldn’t be making a joke about the situation and he’s being a bastard or Tommy have every right to make that joke and it’s a good sign that he hated Dream or something

Buddy, don’t you consider the fact that maybe Tommy made a joke because he thought it was funny and didn’t think it through. We’re talking about the kid who wants to make sure that his closest friends approve of some of the skits that he played. Like I remember when people are concerned Tubbo is super mad during the wedding video only for Tubbo to say yeah I wasn’t upset. It wouldn’t shock me if he ask Quackity and Dream about it. Plus, even if he did step out of line and he deserve to be someone called out for it. That don’t means that it’s a not for him to be dox and his family threatened. Some people try to say that since he hate Dream so much, he should’ve deleted his videos with him. Like he made one video making a joke that probably didn’t land well. You could be uncomfortable, You can call him out, hell you could stop watching him after. But threatening his mom to hurt her to supposedly get her to talk to her son is not gonna make things faster. In fact, that would make things worse because guess what no one likes being threat over a joke. We can say that he made a bad joke, and you shouldn’t have made it because for multiple reasons, but that’s not an excuse to threaten him. And if we go by the logic that this video means that he hates him what does that mean for people like Phil who he made joke about does that mean he hates them too? Especially since some of the people we make jokes are all his friends, so should we assume that he hates them?

But no, these people is evil because they made a bad joke or because they didn’t show attention to a situation and because they look at several things that they’re totally evil and such and they never care about their friends and they’re horrible idiot who do so much wrong, and should be grounds for harassing them

Doesn’t that sound familiar?

These creators are not gods or the devil. They’re people and We can criticize them about making posts that also give away friendship drama while I do acknowledge that maybe they have a right to be upset when they were literally being tracked in their goddamn car

We can acknowledge that that joke isn’t funny because hey, I know this seems pretty ridiculous to you and you want to make a small little jab about it, but we got harassed over it without deciding to turn around and do the same goddamn thing to that person

We can criticize people without deciding to make them hear from here like we can criticize people without telling their mom that you’re going to assault her unless she tell her son to cool it, and we can criticize them without making dramatic posts about how there’s totally evil now and how because they made one bad decision in a friendship or in a relationship. Suddenly, they are pure evil and now you’re going on a giant rant they’re actually an evil bastards who don’t deserve attention.

They deserve to be criticize and told what they did wrong, and how to improve without their families getting hurt in the process.

Edited it because my grammar was somewhat shit.

#fandom critical #mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #quackity #quackity smp #tw harassment #discourse #mcyt discourse #qsmp

[tri-punisher]

i definitely got anger problems. my therapist told me as much. i know specifically because of a combination of emotional neglect + disorder-related emotional dysregulation + being raised by a man who could never resolve things in any constructive way, who's first strategy was to lash out and berate us and call us lazy and worthless, who wasn't the main perpetrator of all my issues as a teenager but definitely had a heavy hand in exacerbating them because he'd use me as his emotional punching bag and offer zero support for anything. i'm very aware i have anger problems and because i spend most of my time online, online is where i come across triggers the most. i take steps to mitigate my emotional responses to things by using this blog to vent and complain about whatever i see, but specifically exclude the names of people who make the most god awful posts i have ever seen in my life, and remove access to things that i know frequently piss me off (like deleting twitter off my phone, blacklisting/blocking things and blogs that are even remotely annoying, and preventing myself from frequenting search terms related to characters that i have a lot of emotional baggage tied up to)

where i'm going with this is i try to make sure my anger isn't bottled up and flows outwards rather than inwards so it doesn't keep compressing and potentially lead to something particularly explosive, and i do this by refusing to pick fights with people every time something triggers me and instead complain about them on my blog within the confines of my own tags with their names excluded. i know my behaviour is trauma-related, i know the way i think is a symptom of cptsd, but i try my best to make sure i don't make that anyone else's problem. if i come across as pessimistic or belligerent because of how i post or how i talk i can't really help that because i know the alternative is me actually picking fights and arguing and trying to make other people feel as terrible as i do. i've been told the way i talk and conduct myself doesn't lend to a presence that is approachable and often appears hostile but like. i really can't help that. as prickly as i seem on the surface i wish people could understand that internally it's significantly worse. i think i'm okay at masking as friendly or unbothered irl but i still think a lot of vile shit about a lot of people for the most insignificant things because my brain has a lot of trouble constructing any middleground for anything that happens, which extends to thoughts about myself and family as well.

i didn't have any point to make when i started making this post, it just felt nice to write about why i think the way i do. maybe i should pick up journaling, that'd probably be more constructive than posting a screenshot of some stupid post and specifying why it's stupid to me in particular

#chit chat #text

[oldmanbayou]

how to start a garden with no money

Most people who know me know how much a hate spending money on things. I’m reasonably comfortable financially now, but I graduated right at the very start of the recession and was barely making ends meet for the first decade of my adulthood. So thriftiness is sort of embedded in me. Besides wanting to save the planet, I think just being kind of a cheapskate is where my homesteader mindset probably comes from. A commenter on another post gave me this lovely idea for a writing prompt -- Thrifty Gardening! 

Here’s what really pisses me off about gardening -- It’s not the act of gardening but then unbelievably sexist gardening industry that tries to sell us tools and supplies. I mean just look at the ads -- it’s a bunch of ladies and their babies. Even though there are tons of dudes who garden, they are under the impression that gardening is dominated by women and I swear to god, they stick a women’s tax on gardening supplies in response. SO much of what they try to sell us looks aesthetically pleasing on the surface, but then turn out to be overpriced uni-taskers and pure junk! A lot of it is stuff you can find in a hardware store or Tractor Supply that they’ve rehashed as gardening supplies and jacked the price up. (Note for clarification - despite my handle, I happen to be a lady.)

Starting a garden doesn’t need to be an expensive endeavor. You don’t need special tools or equipment to start one. You don’t really need much of anything!

Here are the BAREBONES BASIC essentials you need to start a garden. If you do have a little bit of cash to spend, I’ll put the extras in at the end that will make your life easier and have a higher chance of success. 

1. Forget transplants from the gardening shop - Get yourself some seeds! Cost: $0. Hear me out:   • Do a quick google search: “seed library near me”. See if there happens to be one nearby and check it out if there is! • Check out this amazing organization, Free Heirloom Seeds. They have a lengthy list of seeds and you can get 4 packs of whatever you want for free!  • Gardeners LOVE sharing their seeds! We also get super excited about new gardeners and want to help them out and share our wisdom (hi). If you are on Facebook, do a search for local garden groups and join a couple. Post to the group and just tell them you’re starting from nothing and ask if anyone has some extra seeds they want to get rid of! You’ll likely get a few people who would love to help a newbie out. • Butter up some old folks! I am ridiculously shy and have no social skills but nonetheless, I have still unintentionally landed on free seeds and free plants just from casually chatting with locals. Every year, my town has a big townwide tag sale. A lot of these tag sales tend to be from retired folks who are downsizing and moving away. Many of these old folks have big, beautiful, impressive gardens that they’ve developed over many decades. As shy as I am, of course I need to compliment them on their garden! And that gets them going, and then they inevitably end up gifting me seed packets or plants that need a new caretaker. One woman I met really scored me a jackpot when she gifted me the  seeds she’d been harvesting from her garden year after year for generations and are functionally landrace varieties specifically suited for the exact microclimate of my little pocket of the world. I’ve also accidentally gotten a lot of garden supplies for free this way! 2. Next is the garden plot! Cost: $0-$20 • If you have dirt, you don’t need a raised bed. They’re expensive to build, require shipping a giant pile soil, and are so unnecessary. The most overrated gardening ploy of our time! Unless your soil is toxic or you have physical limitations necessitating a raised bed, just use the ground! The ground will be a better insulator than a raised bed, providing better protection to your plants from temperature fluctuations. It also typically has both better water retention and drainage than a raised bed. (If you DO need a raised bed -- try straw bales or finding a used trough and drilling some holes on the bottom.) • Moving on! If you don’t have a pre-existing garden plot or bare patch of dirt to work with, you’ll probably need to dig up a plot, likely involving removing chunks of grass, which is sort of exhausting work. If you aren’t blessed with livestock to do the dirty work for you, a spade or garden fork will serve you well in the garden. You might be able to find one for very little money at a tag sale or on craigslist. But if you need to buy one, they're usually around $20 new.  • If you don’t have ground to work with, container gardening is a perfectly legitimate way to garden! Keep an eye on craigslist/FB marketplace for people giving away planters. You can also make your own out of trash -- Any food container can be a planter. You can poke holes at the bottom for drainage with a screwdriver, nail, awl, or pretty much any sharp object (if you’re truly starting with nothing and don’t even have basic tools at your disposal like a screwdriver, two words - DOLLAR TREE.) Berry containers and those plastic boxes that salad mixes come in make excellent mini greenhouses. 

3. Plant your seeds! Cost: $0-$16.25.  • Option A: Direct sow - If you really want to go the totally free route, you can just stick the seeds in the ground. Refer to the seed packet and/or Farmer’s Almanac to determine timing.  • Option B: Start indoors - All you need for starting seeds indoors is some containers, potting mix, and a window. If you ever buy eggs again, egg cartons can make terrific seed starting trays. If you ever buy transplants at a store, start hoarding those little containers they come in because those are ideal for starting seeds and will last years! As I stated above about container gardening, any food containers can be reused as planters if you just poke some drainage holes at the bottom with a sharp object. For soil, any potting mix will suffice, which a bag will run you about $5-$15 depending on bag size (note: don’t use dirt from the outdoors for container plants). Once they are ready to go outside, make sure to harden them off first by gradually acclimating them to the outdoors over the course of a week. When you’re ready to transplant them, all you need is a trowel to dig a hole, which can be found at Dollar Tree for $1.25.  **Free and simple watering can on a pinch: Try a soda bottle!

Non-essentials but a good idea: • If starting seeds indoors, a seed starting potting mix will give you a much better germination rate and the seedlings a better start at life. This runs about $6-$8 for a small bag (I only use this stuff in seed starting trays because of the expense. Once the seedlings outgrow their trays, I either stick them in the ground or upgrade them to a larger container with regular potting mix.)  • If starting seeds indoors, investing in a grow light will result in an easier time and prevent leggy seedlings. A regular lightbulb isn’t really going to cut it, but you can find a basic grow light easily enough on Amazon for less than $20.  • Fencing. Unless you live in a very urban area with no concerns about wildlife, something is most likely going to want to eat your garden! Honestly, I just use this fairly inexpensive wire fencing ziptied to some garden stakes and the only critters I’ve had issues with are chipmunks. It’s $45 and a roll goes a long way. You can find even cheaper options for $30. Garden stakes usually run $2 each and Dollar Tree carries packs of zipties. (You can also buy a bulk pack of zipties with various sizes for $6 on Amazon.) I also don’t have a door on my fence--I just have a cinder block on both sides of the fence that I use to step over it ($2 per block = $4). A door could be nice for occasional wheelbarrow loads but eh....doors are an overrated added expense!  • Soil test. A soil test will reveal what nutrients are already in your soil and your soil’s pH level. If you base what you plant off of your pre-existing soil conditions, you’ll have a higher chance of success. If you’re growing food and suspect there might be a chance your soil might not be safe for that, you may need to send it to a lab for testing. Costs on this can vary wildly depending on where you live and what resources you have for this kind of thing. Otherwise, the at-home kits are perfectly sufficient. I use the Luster Leaf rapid tests, which are $17.  • For weeds, I just use a garden cultivator (it’s the size of a trowel and looks like a claw), and guess where you can get one for practically nothing? That’s right - Dollar Tree! $1.25

Don’t be fooled by aesthetics in the garden catalogs. This is my thrifty garden (taken in July--it’s of course covered in snow right now). It’s substantially larger than it was when I first started off about 5 years ago, but I’ve not really made many upgrades!

The squash trellis is a new addition that I paid nothing for. I built it out of scrapwood and some leftover fencing. Trellises are the most obnoxiously and pointlessly overpriced of all garden things - Another post for another day!

#gardening #thrifty #cheap #grow food

[drawnaghht]

tag guide anyone? + differentiating between usagis (thinkpiece)

I'm really just curious now if something like a "tagging guide" would help? If you would like this, or know if anyone else has posted something like this, sound off in the comments or like/reblog to agree ^^ 

I posted a poll about this on twt and it looks like 13 so far really want one, so I’m putting a lil test post around here too. I also found while researching for this post that apparently on tumblr, the first 20 tags show up in search! so I guess they changed that from 5 to 20 at some point. huh. that’s a bit more helpful than just 5 tags!

I’ve noticed sometimes people have no idea what to tag with a show like Usagi Chronicles that is less than 2 years old and is based on existing IP, but also that ppl use a lot of tags in general, perhaps confused about what is the “main tag” or most used tag for a character in rottmnt for example. So I started writing a little tag guide, which I’ll post the draft of at the bottom this thinkpiece. The main issue around tumblr seems to be excessive mis-tagging or multi-tagging i.e when a character isn’t there. I think I’ve seen this in some other fandoms too (primarily bigger fandmos), but I’m not gonna get too deep into it. You can skip to “tagging guide” via CTRL+F to search it on the page. I’ve also included a little character “separator” part with graphics, cuz it seems some are having trouble seeing the characters differently from fanart alone. I thought it would help to post more of the “source” materials ^^

Also if you have problems differentiating between the two in general…aside from both being white long-eared rabbits they are almost as different as night and day, at least on the surface ^^;; Here is a helpful post by Freakova, about how to tell the difference between Miyamoto Usagi and Yuichi Usagi, ancestor and descendant respectively: 

https://freakova.tumblr.com/post/707461151549702144/i-made-this-for-my-besties-to-help-explain-the

But I kinda get it! Especially if characters are intentionally obfuscated a bit (e.g. there are characters in the show who can’t tell between Miyamoto and Yuichi Usagi, but it is mostly used as plot hook/humor). But they have different names and characteristics and slightly differing fanbases on a site like tumblr, so separating them in tags is helpful. I think part of it also comes from the name confusion, but I already wrote a post about that. Imo, if you have your own design already and it looks like neither of the two characters, you can just use “Rise Usagi” or “rottmnt Usagi” or other variations as tags, those are popular and used enough already that you don’t need to use the main character tags ^^

Personally, I would only like to see Yuichi Usagi in his own tags when it applies (he’s in the pic/fic), but if he’s not, well, what are you doing tagging him there?

I also get that some newer/younger TMNT fans apparently didn’t know the Usagi characters are from their own franchise for a short while last year (but ppl probably learned, right? I’ve literally only seen posts/tweets asking what the series is abt and unrelated posts exasperated that ppl don’t know) but visually they’re quite distinct, even if they are all white rabbits. I’ll post these comparisons just so I can use the tags properly and not piss off anyone else.

We have the original Usagi and his 1000-years later descendant.

Stan Sakai based Miyamoto Usagi largely on his childhood inspiration of samurai films, mainly “Samurai Trilogy” starring Mifune Toshiro playing Miyamoto Musashi, a real-life samurai who inspired many other films and adaptations. You can hear more about how Stan created Usagi here in this Portland Art Museum video where he explains and draws his Usagi. The story usually goes that he drew a rabbit with a chonmage (the edo-period top-knot) and suddenly, Usagi was born.

In the show he has a slightly older-looking design? but in the comics his look varies slightly because the series has been going for 40 years and the character has developed over the pages. so he can look slightly different cover to cover, page to page, but mostly it’s all him, the same character, just different situations, life periods and emotions. So he can look different in official material depending which publication period you start reading from, but mostly the same. 

Then we have both the Miyamoto Usagi’s in different animated mediums,

And Yuichi in different media (show itself in 3D and 2D and merch by Stan)

And then there’s also Jotaro (very important Usagi Yojimbo character introduced early on/vol 1) and Yamamoto Yukichi(introduced in later stories/vol 4), who I think people aren’t mixing up with any of the previous rabbits yet, but who knows, i don’t look through absolutely all the tags myself after all and tumblr seems to have a problem of not showing much older posts in the public tag search anymore, so I can’t find older posts I used to see anymore ^^;

More thoughts on tagging + being a fan under cut. 

This … is not really a vent or analysis post, I can't get that upset about it myself. with real life worries etc - fandom is supposed to be a fun outlet for creativity, at least for me. So I try not to feel anything about it. But tagging has always seemed fairly straight-forward to me and it’s mostly to organize a blog/find other people with similar interests. Writing non-structured non-essays is basically how I interact with a piece of media when I feel like fanart is not enough. And because tumblr posts now apparently Do Not HAve Limits, this is a better alternative to tag rambles.

-------------------

So when I saw the post about the Miyamoto Usagi tag I remembered that this was why I didn’t use the “follow tag” feature + the “your tags” tab as much myself (aside from not having it before and not being used to it on tumblr). Because usually with bigger fandoms, people do mis-tag or tag their other shows/fandoms into it without including the main character, this happens on occasion because there are a lot of people using the tag. I also don’t follow the Leosagi tag anymore for the same reason, that people can’t seem to differentiate between the characters and it becomes hard to tell what they want to post or which character they are talking about/drawing ^^;

As pointed out by Tamalinvonpineapple's post about it, people mis-tag Yuichi Usagi and Miyamoto Usagi and that’s a problem for people who would like to see just one of those characters but not mis-tagged as the other. I’m not gonna assume these are made in bad faith e.g. intentionally to piss off other fans, cuz there can be so many different reasons for people doing this. This post is also not gonna get into ship tags much because that is a contentious topic and tbh, left for a separate thinkpiece (I also already wrote smth abt tags for myself).

I tried to find out more possible reasons for mistagging in general or what the general consensus on tumblr is about tagging but it seems (or we can assume) it is a “bad practice” from how social media sites have given a slightly different use for tags tiktok/instagram/twitter - “tag for reach” - so like those social media accounts for companies that spam other tags. I do see this in anime/manga fandoms occasionally. Not just for the different spellings of characters (e.g, when a dub would give the character a new name; japanese vs western way of writing names) but specifically when 1 character is the only one there and the tags then have 30 other characters listed as well so the post/media would show up in search. But I wonder where this habit is from? Aren’t people curious to see what other tags their character/show have? I remember that on sites like blogger, we only tagged so that we could find things later, so people often made their own custom tags, i.e. "my work on the show" or "midnight doodlies". if a show got tagged, for example TMNT or Usagi, it would probably get 1-word/1-phrase tag (i.e. “turtles” “turtlies” “mutant turtles”) or just the series title tag - either the abbreviation or full name of a series/comic/cartoon depending on content. When it comes to tumblr tags, I remember getting annoyed at NOTPs permeating the tags as well. Or just posts about other seriesM multi-crossovers where your blorbo is only there to die, but then is still tagged after that; edits that have no relation to the character but they share a name or tag for whatever reason and you keep seeing these unrelated posts in the tags. I’ve seen more than enough from almost any of the fandom tags I’ve visited on tumblr. So I get how annoying mistagging itself can be.

But basically in regards to tags on tumblr itself, it seems people misuse them mainly because they don't know or don't like the tags for the other shows. Folks also like to see their posts get to as many people as possible, which I understand, I do the same on instagram, cuz that’s what I’ve learned by other artists example. Seems to make sense that more tags = more views. On tumblr, this sort of doesn’t always work this way. I could post a drawing from a popular cartoon and get maybe 5 notes total in 12 years, while a scribble I deemed too ugly to tag properly might get 54 notes on it’s first day. It’s almost like a Murphy’s Law of Tumblr that what you expect to do well, doesn’t. It’s just how it is here and I’m so used to it, it feels weird to complain about it, even on other sites with actual algorhitms and working apps etc.

Well, as a fan of the Usagi Chronicles show, perhaps what makes me more sad is that this has had the adverse effect of older TMNT/Usagi Yojimbo fans being so angry that they can’t stand the show/character itself now, even if they already disliked it before seeing other fans post about it. Which is just plain sad because some people even make up stuff about it just to discredit it as a show that Stan Sakai worked on. I understand that people have different reasons to dislike the show, most probably valid, but they also assume many things about it, to the point of stating them as fact when the opposite is true. I have… a different post about it. In general, we can say that being online seems to be the common thread between fans annoyed at fans.

In some ways, what’s even sadder however is an empty or unactive tag. Imagine that the last post you saw in that tag is still the one from 2013 you made yourself. It’s a bit annoying seeing people mistag or post unrelated fanart in it but hey, maybe this means they also read the tag? A chance to educate or get more views on your own fandom? Just a chance for communication? I know that doesn’t seem very appealing when those same fans are the ones mis-using the tag, but it just seems better than something completely empty. Of course, this is not a problem for TMNT fandoms perhaps, but from my experience in smaller fandoms, or being a fan of smaller/less popular media. And with how much there is mainly ship-related posts in almost all the Usagi Chronicles tags, this seems to be a matching experience I’ve been having so far in the Usagi tags. The comic series tag itself is also often full of other things, or only ship things, or sometimes only TMNT things for a short bit, but overall, I guess at least people use it?? But I would still like it that Samurai Rabbit, SRTUC, etc stuff gets tagged with those tags so I can actually find it instead of combing through multiple tags at a time just to see something new. While the newer “Your tags” feature on tumblr makes this a bit easier, I can see the easy annoyance at when people tag a character but then don’t include the character. and to add insult to injury, they tag a different character, but without acknowleding the first character at all.

But this is now like a joint fandom for a crossover for two franchises which have had crossovers before and now… there’s sort of a joint fandom? Sort of? So because it’s a bit bigger, it feels nice when other fans are considerate of small things like tagging. Now, on the whole, while many do still mistag and the leosagi tag is still mainly yuichi x leo for many, I’ve also seen in my own tagscrambles that not as many do this as much anymore, or going through a tag in time, the newer stuff seems to do this less. So like I’ve written in previous posts, my honest hope is just that fandom will adapt and grow into healthier online habits. Still, there are a few other things in the tags that I just can’t help but notice each time. it’s also why I don’t bother too much with repeat-viewing tags unless I’m looking for something specific.

It often feels like people just make up their own versions of any Usagi and/or write off the show as “too bad to watch”. And. idk, this just makes me feel sad about it because as mentioned above, I’ve seen it before in other smaller fandoms I’m in. In transformative works, it’s fairly normal that people make their own versions of a show or it’s characters, because that’s something fun to do with fanart and fic. But to openly hate a character? idk man, just feels weird to me personally. Like I don’t have the energy for hatedom. I know my little sibling really gets into hating one series that really disappointed her as a viewer, but even she now says that it’s an odd way to spend time, when she could be making fanart of something she likes instead. And I get that. I also spent my earlier non-internet days being more hateful of new media I disliked at the start, and while expressing that isn’t always bad (it’s just an iopinion), it became weirdly detrimental to me actually enjoying stuff in my tweens. Everything me and my friends and their friends ever talked about, was related to somehow being more above others or knowing better than others, being hateful of anything new or popular. And without quite realizing it right away, that was really tiring. Even if I spent time on things I did like, hobbies I enjoyed, that hate and childhood snobbishness sorta simmered there. I remember that for me it mainly came from “oh, I want to be a real animator one day, I should act like a real profesional adult and always be critical of the media I view, because that’s how I see adults treat real serious film.” Fast-forward 15 years, I’ve been through making comics as a tween, making fanart as a teen, I’ve been making a lot of different kinds of “cartoon art” in general as well as some actual art education, thinking, maybe I want to have some more general art schooling too. Later in my mid-twenties, I met someone with this similar mindset to my childhood self, who at first I got along with. We laughed at cartoons we didn’t like and made fun of the bad endings of those we did. At some point, I listened to them talking about getting to visit a big animation festival. And how they completely unironically expressed their hate directly at a leading crew member of a cartoon they didn’t like. And then I realized like. Wait a fucking minute. I don’t wanna act like this to other people! And this is why I don’t really “shoot the shit” about cartoons I don’t like as publicly anymore as I maybe once would have online on tumblr etc. Like I just don’t get it anymore. At most I’ll write down my thoughts somewhere private or to friends and try to understand why I don’t like the thing. And if it’s a very simple dislike, I just don’t spend time on it.

So like, I don’t get the hate the show (SRTUC) and character(Yuichi Usagi) get. Like I can understand sort of where people are coming from. but I don’t get why they gotta publicly tag it, announce it, or put it in the reblogged tags sometimes. the og poster sees that after all? so that’s like a bigger thought for me when it comes to tags.

I believe people can learn to be nice about a show they don’t like, but if they start to feel annoyed at fandom parts of the web they see online, they also start to feel hate toward a specific show, even if the show or thing itself might not be as bad. Example - I have this toward Star Wars for example, it’s a big fandom. I feel indifferent now, but in my youth, I found it annoying that everyone was talking about it as if it was the best thing ever, when it was spoiled for most of my childhood for me, and also felt like a generic movie series after all that. Something growing in popularity, or being really popular in a niche fandom can make ppl dislike it in general and that’s fairly ordinary as fandoms go. Often, people just don’t like a popular thing. Just think of series of like GoT/ASoIaF or HP. But then again those go down the cultural road so easily, I suppose in countries where western-media is really popular/common, it becomes like a cultural osmosis and fans can assume *everyone* likes it, even if not everyone does. I’m thinking about the fresh 30+ dads from 10 years ago I read about who only interacted with their kids through their own nerd interests. Pokemon is such a culturally permeated thing, it’s everywhere and everyone seems to assume everyone has played it or at least knows about it, even if at some point, some of us were big fans of Digimon instead, or some don’t like it at all. At some point, my dad gifted me a Harry Potter book, even though I (non-vocally) disliked it, but it was in the cultural osmosis here so strongly that it was everywhere and he just assumed I was into it (bless his heart, he genuinely didn’t know). HP was something that I initially disliked because it was so popular, but the idea of a “basic magic premise, but extended” seemed interesting, and it was required reading in my middle school, so at 11, I went to see the movie and thought, alright, maybe I’ll give it a chance. But reading the book I found things that didn’t make sense to me, that didn’t match what seemed like the themes of the book (the whole slave freedom plot for example) so I always sort of kept it at arms-length - not quite getting into it, but also not turning it away if I found anything, not saying anything upsetting to people who were fans of it. Everyone at my school read it though to varying degrees, or at least everyone knew things about it even if they weren’t fans or weren’t invested at all. (This was all before we knew JKR is a vocal TERF, so now I feel a bit validated in my dislike, even if I feel sad for the fans who got something positive out of the series).

So point being, fandom can have different types of people in it. A type of media will often accrue a specific type of fan and sometimes it won’t match what the show itself puts out. E.g. fans acting in ways that go squarely against what the media talks about (Steven Universe is a popular show with many fans that comes to mind), or a show having an unexpected viewership next to it’s intended demographic (us 90s kids still being cartoon fans in our late 20s/30s/early 40s). It’s slightly unpredictable in a general way. 

Of course, TMNT fandom is a bit different from those bigger properties because it was an indie comic made in the 80s that was so different and off-the-wall indie for a comicbook, it sold out and gave its creators Eastman and Laird a hefty legacy, lasting careers and actual money. Good for them! Personally I think it’s thanks to how genuinely creative and collaborative their work was then. Like Usagi Yojimbo, it’s an old comicbook/franchise now, so the “fandom” as such differs from generation to generation, from childhood to childhood. I met the turtles for the first time with the 87 series in the early 90s, then the next time w the 2003 series, which i initially hated as that angry, cartoon-critical tween, but was surprised at how much it seemed to take from the comics. I think I was initially angry about it for different reasons, mainly, “why is it so serious? why are the jokes so lame?” and also because I had invested so much emotionally into the idea of seeing something as good as the 80s cartoon again... but then found that it grew on me and now 20 years later I can look at it with nostalgia. As a result, my reaction to the 2012 series was mostly “wow another TMNT cartoon?” and “huh it looks interesting” and “oh I’ve seen this person work on another cartoon before”. My little sibling on the other hand only saw the 2003 cartoon and their reaction the the 2012 adaptation was “Wow, THEY’RE FINALLY TEENS” because as kids, we thought the 2003 TMNT looked and sounded “too much like boring adults”. But from many online fanspaces back then a lot of the more vocal reactions was around “THE 3D IS SO UGLY” and “WHY ARE THEY SO YOUNG”. You’ve probably heard similar sentiments of various degrees if you’ve been a fan or viewer of any TMNT cartoon. 

Usagi Yojimbo is unique in this sense because Stan Sakai has been the only one drawing and writing the comicbook for 40 years. Some of the visual style and writing tone change from book to book, but it’s gradual because Stan has changed as an artist and writer too. If you look at any comic series like this, it’s actually a natural part of many comics i.e. webcomics used to be a prominent example of this, as the creators were often complete novices at the beginning and graduated to a more consistent style. But even from a surface level view, lets say, reading other people’s reviews, you can see that people really enjoy Usagi Yojimbo for how consistent it is with it’s treatment of its characters, story and Edo-period culture. Stan Sakai really does his research and puts respect back into fiction inspired by samurai. Even though guides will often tell you that you can jump into the series from any point in the series, there’s just something really consistent about it as a whole. Sakai gets to do whatver he wants with his books and what he does seems to be thought-out usually. Even if the early animated adaptations were a bit incorrect, comic readers in general have a lot of respect for Stan and his work. My favourite part about this all is how Usagi Yojimbo is actually used to teach about japanese culture in a college course in the US.

Because both TMNT and UY are originally creator-owned comics (still so with UY regardless of publisher or adaptations but not so much TMNT as Viacom bought the rights in 2009), perhaps the general fan experience is more similar to original comics fandoms in Japan. Although whether a series is creator-owned varies from series to series, the manga and magazines culture in Japan seems wholly different from what US comicbooks were in the 80s and even what they still are now in that regard. Because a series will more often be written and illustrated by the same creator/artist/team, there are less variations and book-to-book differences both visually and tonally. In the US, a comicbook series can start with an artist-writer team, but then switch if the editorial decides some change is needed. This is something that often affects consistency and a story or character’s canon eventually and in a convoluted way, it’s the reason why we got “alternate earths” and “multiverse crossovers”. Which, while fun, make american comicbooks hard to read for some newer readers. Even with TMNT, once Eastman and Laird started having less time to make the comics and their other problems, it led into breaking off their creative partnership and never speaking again. But they had to continue the comic. If before the feud, they would just have fun passing the pages between each other, now they actually  so they wrote it he series became different based on who was writing it. One more sci-fi leaning and one more martial-arts and mysticism leaning. You can see this difference in the TMNT animated adaptations as well. The 2003 series namely is more based on Laird’s storylines in the comics and he was also consultant on the series. After the 2009 sale of Mirage to Viacom, we get the 2012 series, where Eastman acts as consultant, so it’s more heavy on his ideas of what the TMNT are. In 2019, the documentary series “Toys that made us” brought them together for the first time in almost 2 decades. And then we fans got to have The Last Ronin, a collaboration between the two again.

(What I’ve paraphrased here is mostly based on this video overview of how the comic became a franchise “How did a violent indie comic become a $15,000,000,000 franchise?” by matttt if you’re interested in seeing and hearing a more picturesque summary of this)

So getting back to fandom, because it’s mostly been one comicbook series, both the more avid and casual UY comics fans might not be used to there being adaptations of Stan’s Usagi. Yes, even with the visual examples I brought up above, perhaps some simply haven’t seen the animated adaptations because these are still marketed “for kids”. This is like the only reason I can think of that people who are 30+ adults, go online to complain about the Chronicles series online, even though it’s obviously for kids, meaning they probably didn’t even watch it. Folks are “surprised” Stan “let Netflix ruin his series” etc - even if it’s explicitly in a new futuristic setting to avoid affecting the comics canon. It will be interesting to know how people react when or if Sakai puts out his “Kagemusha” anthology, where the idea is about different creators telling different Usagi stories.

Even TMNT fans, many of whom don’t know Usagi beyond the animated adaptations, might jump in with this similar mindset of “different = bad”. Maybe there’s a manga/anime adaptation out there with the fans having similar concerns about their adaptations. Sailor Moon comes to mind, but as always, people’s grievances with an adaptation may have good reasons underneath. But also I’ve personally never seen an avid Sailor Moon fans be as annoying as the casual Star Wars fan. It might also depend on the age and lifestyle of the fan. Someone who is a teacher or parent, maybe they’ve met more people, put more thought into it, might feel milder about new or different things vs someone who is used to going online to see people angry and enjoys getting into arguments.

If I start to think about it, I can get a similar reaction out of myself. It was hard to look at mid-00s fanart of Usagi because it always felt a bit “extreme” like fans changed things about Usagi to suit their own understanding or image of samurai, which was always more based on popular movies or anime rather than the comic. I think this is just a general thing about fanart over the times. I still balk at some fanart, either UY or SRTUC, if for example the sides of the clothes are opposite - right over left, for burials vs left over right, like the letter ‘y’ - because it just means the fanartist didn’t bother to look up even references. Most times people just don’t know about this sort of stuff, they might be anime fans or they might even be part of a different asian culture, but it it’s not something that’s taught, of course it won’t reflect in something like fanart. But then, it’ll just be something new to learn. To me it also speaks of a wider annoyance of people liking things only for the surface-level appeal.

Usagi Yojimbo I’ve noticed has much more of a fanbase than fandom. I know fanbase doesn’t get used much as a term these days as more and more media gets an active fandom rather than staying at a fanbasem but it’s a term I’d like to use in this case. “The Wilkes Beacon” in 2014 defines the difference so: “Not everything with a fanbase has a fandom, because a fandom is a group of committed fans who are always vocally interested in their “thing,” usually expressing that on a social website such as Tumblr. Just because you’re a fan doesn’t mean the fandom will accept you.” Indeed sometimes fandom feels almost like being in a separate part of the club, only for people in the know about it. The origin for fanbase is attributed to early 20th century baseball fans. The origin of fandom, most well-known as a portmanteau of fan + kingdom, is often attributed to the original Sherlock Holmes fans who actually gathered to mourn the character when Arthur Conan Doyle decided to kill him off (bless your hearts and souls, sometimes it feels like fandom has never changed) but also from early 20th century sports fans and 60s Trekkies, who saved their show. A lot of different sources give different origins and histories for these words and many will also equate them as synonymous.

My own experiences tell me that a fanbase is more general - any fans of a thing, whether they attend conventions, buy the media or no (i.e. Sherlock Holmes readers, sports fans) and will comprise the “base” of any activity - the larger number of fans that exist for a piece of media/sport/celebrity. A fandom will be the more “active” part, more interested in being connected with each other within that fanbase. Of course, to any other person outside of fans, both of these will be synonymous and a fan will look weird and fanatical regardless of how little they invest themselves into a media. But I’’m making this distinction to describe what I see as more casual and more active “fanbase as a whole”. Fanbase as a word feels more general, while Fandom sounds more specific. So as an example, the One Piece “fanbase” might feel large and more everywhere, like with pokemon or Sherlock Holmes the book, but the OP fandom can feel more active and particitative, like the .It’ll depend entirely on what way each person interacts with the media. Do you have friends who are also fans of the series? it’s like a fandom. You just watch it but don’t participate as much? You’re in the fanbase, but you might partake in fandom activities if you feel like it. You might be a more casual fan, but you might have more avid feelings about the series as well, but you’re not that interested in making fanworks or posts or reacting to other fans at all. A fandom might be big, but more ubiquitous, more silent and conversely, some fandoms may be small, but still very active and vocal. I’ve often theorized that this is because So UY online fandom sorta feels like the latter, but more under-the-radar. Small and active but also more silent and appreciative. With the previous “big fandoms” example, it’s also the juxtaposition between Old and New that comes into play. An old Spidey fan from the 70s might have become an official Spiderman fanartist, but they might not partake in all the fan stuff they used to anymore. Still a fan, but maybe the newer and younger “fandom” as such is just not appealing to them in the same way.

The larger or more advertised a TV series or book is, the larger and more annoying its fanbase in general. If a piece of media has less popularity, it will ergo have a smaller fanbase and sometimes no “active fandom” at all. So now with the Samurai Rabbit: the Usagi Chronicles TV show as an animated spinoff-adaptation, we have a similar problem that TMNT fans have been familiar with over the decades. Thanks to the show, there’s a more active, slightly younger fandom who want to connect over the series and maybe even read the comicbook, know more about the source and origins, they might want to even know how the show was made, make fanart or fic. So fans like any other, but just that the media they’re a fan of now, is still relatively new. Maybe these newer fans act or write differently online from how older fans are used to. Maybe they even treat the original source comic differently or just don’t know anything about it. In any case, new series and new fans will generally seem annoying because culturally that’s what we’ve started to associate some of fandom with. Otaku culture etc. So it and it’s fans might get the “new thing” treatment as mentioned above with the TMNT animated adaptations.

The difference here is that Stan Sakai has been wanting his own animated adaptation for a long time (just look at the Space Usagi pilot for proof) and while many suggested projects to him before, this one actually piqued his interest bc they did something new with the characters. You could say that what people don't like abt this series are some decisions resulting from this being a netflix cartoon for kids. the decision to set it in a near-future with a new younger for example, was made in the beginning by netflix and I haven’t found any articles yet that’s found a legit reason for why it stayed this way. My guess based on interviews with Stan and crew is that Stan found it interesting as a possible new way to get more readers to the comic. Something for the younger generation. Although many readers and even parents will attest that the comic is child-appropriate (and really, it is), the TV-Y7 ratings and so on exist for a reason. And while I would love for more western studios to get funding for more adult animation in general (I’m not from the US myself and animation such a large medium, the way that genres are explored or what gets made for adults vs kids feeks so different elsewhere), I think it’s good that the first full series based on UY is this “non-violent” (your mileage may vary). Because a lot of the more vocal adult fans of UY seem more focused on the violence vs what kids might get out of it. A popular quote from Sakai is “Once, a mother asked me, 'What is Usagi Yojimbo about?' and before I could answer, her son said, 'It’s about honor.'"   (Komai for JANM, 2011). Sometimes it seems like the “older adults” or the “more casual” fans of UY sort of don’t get it.

Even the naming of the series and character has reasons, which I’ve seen some Rise Leosagi shippers make their own reasons for. So the various hate from “older fans” I see about it is strange because all evidence points to the show having Sakai’s approval and his full involvement. Of course, I could also be wrong, but watching the series, it doesn’t feel to me like an “empty cashgrab” as one angry TMNT fan put it. It feels more like something made by other UY fans, those more familiar than I was at the time, with both Usagi Yojimbo lore as well as the culture and lore behind it. In their quest to properly honor the comic series they loved, crew put a lot research hours into making sure both edo and post-edo periods got to be part of their show. Like “trips to japan during a pandemic” type of research. The show is an interesting fusion of old and modern in futuristic setting and feels wholly unique as an experiment.

Another aspect of course is also the shipping parts of fandom. I can never quite get my head behind this “arguing about ships” because it just reminds me of my Grandma and her older sister fighting over their soap operas and who should get together with who. And alright, maybe this was fun for them...? I’ve never been that invested in this myself but it can be fun to have a pairing you root for in a show, when it’s just a bunch of connected ideas over the story, there really seems like a real genuine connection between the characters or if there’s a chance to connect with other fans over it. That’s kind of what fandom is for me in general, but with crossover ships, it’s like a strange and interesting combination of “oooh what interesting similarities and differences” and “lets find out” with fanworks. 

This is the main way I enjoy making crossovers in general work, even if I’ve never finished an actual fic (I’m more of an artist) and even if the works sometimes don’t go together (it’s like a fun challenge). I wonder sometimes if the SRTUC crew also imagined crossovers with TMNT? As in this fanart post on facebook by Samurai Rabbit character designer Andry R, I wonder what that could have been like. After all, if many of the crew are fans too, it just makes sense to think about that? it’s fun to think of crossovers after all! And since it’s fanwork, I personally don’t feel as obligated to make some of the quality as insanely good as I would have in my younger days. I want to enjoy the art making process too, so putting research and sketches into a piece is sometimes my own “enough”. So I don’t really care about views either because I know even now, tastes might still just be not geared toward something sketchier that I make.

Even so, despite the experience with online sites and social media people have in general, or other artists/fans encouraging to feel a bit less worried about socmedia algorhitms, it might be frustrating that posts are not as popular even if your idea feels great.

So connecting all of that fandom talk, I can only assume people mistag between a popular and non-popular series for similar reasons. As said earlier, fans might assume everyone prefers the popular thing and that it’s better to tag that popular/bigger/older thing. Because at least that So in our case, I’ve noticed more that ppl tag Yuichi Usagi with the Miyamoto Usagi tag. From the surface, it seems like people don’t know about the Yuichi tags/show or they just don’t like it for some other reason. Now Tumblr is more a “home of fandoms” than casual fans, as most of the user-generated content is entirely by people who get much more invested in a series than a casual fan. Similarly I’ll see people tag their TMNT 2012 inspired fandesigns as ROTTMNT as well, because that is simply seen as the popular fandom at the time ergo, more attention on your post.

Maybe a solution for the mis-tagging could be smth as simple as fandom outreach, something active to unite the different types of fans into using tags correctly, but of course, something more active and social might feel more unnatural, as most of us are more wall-flower than social butterfly - working off the assumption here that most fans are shy. I used to be pretty shy as a fan and now I’m more active and out-going in general in my adult years, but at the same time, doing something socially more active is still a scary thought in my brain so I can understand that it’s easier to just tag and hope it’s correct. Or easier to make ticked off posts vs something with a different kind of effort. But then again, as brought up in my examples of other fandoms, being a fan can make people very active in taking part in similar fan activities. As we all enjoy the same thing in different ways or different media in similar ways, we are all still fans at the end of the day. Whether casual or more involved, that’s a unique experience that should unite us. So I’ll have my peace with the older cartoon-hating fans who only view Usagi Chronicles as an empty children’s cartoon etc etc. 

So, because I’m an adult, but also an artist and animation fan, this is how I’ve been approaching TV cartoons for the past 5-10 years. Against my first reaction of “oh, this is too slow for me” the way I chose to view the series once I saw more of it was “I’m an adult, and this is a cartoon made my other older adults, for kids - let me see what it’s about”. It’s more about curiosity and seeing what other creatives have done to put connective tissue between one idea to another.

Personally when it comes to tagging I try to keep to a general amount of “minimum amount of tags possible” bc I’m a bit lazy but also, I will never find anything on my own blog later if I used more than 20 tags about a simpler fanart post. So maybe like 1-2 tags for show/series, 1-2 tags for characters and my own art tags. I am lazy but I also like being considerate with other people. But also because of my previous experience with blogging, I like to keep tags I re-use as consistent as possible so I have the same experience. Of course, sometimes I forget what I’ve actually used if there are many tags i.e. many characters. so keeping the tags short is a boon for that end.

Here is the draft version for the UY and Usagi Chronicles tag guide, i'm gonna change this more but this is mostly how I've been tagging stuff (or have tried to so far) and I wrote a small guide back in march before all this, but have been coming back to it now with more general and character tags in mind. 

== Tagging Guide ==

Hello Rise of the TMNT and Usagi Chronicles joint fandom! Here’s a guide on how to tag Usagi Chronicles/Samurai Rabbit stuff! Mostly it’s my own view on how to tag things based on how I interact w the fandom stuff posted here but also from my experience of using tumblr and older blogging platforms - how I see the most common/make-sensical ways to tag characters/shows. But maybe you will find this useful too, fellow fan!

Usagi Yojimbo - the name of the original comicbook series - I decidedly reserve this for posts and reblogs ONLY about the Usagi Yojimbo comic (pages covers,, screenshots, memes), or general fanart of the comic or its characters. This helps me keep it separate so I can find posts about it later.

Usagi Chronicles - personally I use this for all content for the show, but especially the crossover stuff and my own art posts. This seems to be the most commonly used unique tag about this show.

SRTUC - acronym, good for short posts, for quick tagging. but I also use this to tag general reblogged posts about the show

Samurai Rabbit - I only try to use this if it is about the official stuff, like interviews and GIF/screenshots in bulk (more than 2). This tag gets used a lot for both the series but before that it was also used for posting general UY comics content and alternate covers by other artists, as well as for original samurai rabbits unaffiliated by UY. It is too general for me to use it on my own posts outside of text posts maybe.

Samurai Rabbit the Usagi Chronicles - mostly I use this tag for more general posts, but also reblogs if someone else has made something directly related to the series.

SamuraiRabbitNetflix - lol I only use this one on twitter, bc I saw someone from the crew use it and it has stuck for most of my more finished posts I guess ^^ Literally nobody else on tumblr uses it which is fine, but I think it’s a good way to separate the series and the more general posts people make about the comic or guest art of it (or sometimes original art unrelated to UY)

Characters:

Miyamoto Usagi - I try to mainly use it for just comic Usagi and fanart, but occasionally I will use it for fanart depicting

Rise Miyamoto Usagi - Any Rise!versions of comics Usagi. Usually these are fandesigns, but sometimes fans will adapt it wholesale (usually adapting him from his younger years). Sometimes it is unclear which version it is based on or it is a completely original version so I simply tag these as Rise Usagi.

Yuichi Usagi - pretty self-explanatory! I only use this for posts/fanart including Yuichi Usagi (but not when he is only mentioned in passing). Sometimes it is hard to differentiate between these versions however, 

Usagi fandesign/Yuichi Usagi fandesign/Miyamoto Usagi fandesign - I use all these tags to organize the fandesigns ppl make of all these characters, reserving “Usagi fandesign” when it’s really an original design based on various canon Usagi concepts or more of a “general” Usagi than a specific one i.e. meant for the Rise or 2012 TMNT crossover AUs. This counts for me in reblogs also when the OP hasn’t really decided what the character is and has tagged both characters. Lol there is a lot of different fanart of these characters and for my own sake, I tag these separately where possible so I can find the fanart easier later (especially if the posts themselves have text which doesn’t use these names, or if tumblr search is not working on blogs)

UY character - I use “UY” as the common acronym before characters from UY, but I also generally tag their names in reblogs. idk, this just makes it easier for me to find them later in my own blog and that’s all (Kenichi and Mariko for example are quite common Japanese names)

Tomoe Ame - This character just deserves her own tag, but also, I think the 03 version, while quite different, can fit in the same tag because people don’t post about them as much ^^;;

--

And now for the TMNT tags!

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - the official name! long, but good if you are tagging official stuff i.e. screenshots, gifs, concept art, tweets from crew etc

ROTTMNT - good short catch-all tag, lots of ppl use this to tag their reblogs quickly, but shorter posts can also go under here

Rise of the TMNT - Slightly longer tag than the full acronym, but more descriptive, if you wanna make sure people know it’s a TMNT show

Rise TMNT - I’ve seen a few ppl use this as a tag and it’s a valid way to tag (short and unique) but it’s not as popular as the others

2018 TMNT - again, general tag for the series. Common way to make a tag for a TMNT series - adding the year of airing before the TMNT acronym. Same with TMNT 2018. Same for the comics! I’ll use IDW TMNT as a tag for example, bc it seems widely used and understood.

TMNT18 - same as the previous one, but shorter! There are a lot of TMNT media besides the comics, (movies, animated series, etc) so it’s a general easier practice to tag via year. Ppl also sometimes use the variation 18TMNT. Anything is basically fair game with these general tags as long as the author of a blog finds stuff later.

Characters![I’m not sure about the characters yet bc I use the tags differently than other people apparently. my blog my rules i guess!]

rottmnt [character] - reserved for when i tag this character in crossovers, eg rottmnt April, rottmnt donnie. I generally use nicknames for the rottmnt boys cuz I am lazy.

Rise [character] e.g. Rise Leo, Rise April - I try and use this just for 

April O Neil (full name) - for when I’m tagging them in general and just want to see them in this tag with the other versions

12 April or 12April - for the 2012 TMNT versions of the characters. I often write the tags together bc I am just lazy but in the case of numbers, I can also forget. On tumblr I try to remember to use spaces cuz that is allowed here lol.

----

And that’s it! I have more in the list, but that is the gist of the style of it. Basically hust explaining what I’ve seen and if/how I use it on my own blog. Let me know if you have more thoughts about this. I’m curious to know what other fans of both series think!

#Miyamoto Usagi #Yuichi Usagi #UY Jotaro #rottmnt #srtuc #usagi chronicles #Yamamoto Yukichi #texty #aghhtposts #aghht srtuc posts #fandom tag list #tagging guide #long post #not gonna tag absolutely every character bc some of them don't feature as heavily here #anyway this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month so i am releasing it from its burden #aghht graphics #haven't used that in a long time #ok this has been sitting in my drafts since april now time to actually release it #might have to review this later for any larger points i forgot to finish or other unfinished sentences. #someone appreciate my graphics

[mt-musings]

Bluebell

Chapter 53

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, self-harming behavior, childhood sexual abuse, more tags to be added

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

53. Territorial Pissings

She didn’t feel any better by the time she arrived at the familiar Southwest Precinct Station. She glanced around as they were shown inside by a Detective Barlowe, who led them to a conference room that had been cleared for their use. She glanced around, looking for any familiar faces—Trevor’s dad should have retired by now, but she couldn’t be sure. 

It would certainly complicate things if he hadn’t. 

She didn’t want to be there, not after the last time—they’d hauled her in kicking and screaming and she was pretty sure she bit one of the cops before they’d ever tossed her in an interview room. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Trevor before Robert had someone sweep in and take her. She’d been on a plane to the east coast so fast then that her head had spun. 

It looked less shitty than it had fifteen years ago—it was clear the city had upped their police budget. Not that it made them any more competent, judging by the facts of the case so far. 

She’d read through the entire case file four times on the plane. The case against Trevor was circumstantial at best—they hadn’t even found enough to secure a search warrant to his apartment. Not that anyone seemed to care—had they all forgotten that the importance of the profiler was to be objective, to look at the evidence, to not fixated on one subject because they seemed the easiest to do so?

She paused as she felt a hand close on her bicep and turned to find Spencer looking concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“Just thinking. The file doesn’t quite make sense. I mean—doesn’t it seem a little, I don’t know, convenient? Why are we narrowing our pool down to one person before we even canvas? It seems like a big risk to me, especially when there’s a good chance Mandy’s still alive and out there. I mean, I know Hotch probably knows people here since he worked at the field office, but it seems strange.”

“I don’t know, I guess the locals are pretty sure.”

“So we’re just here to dig up the dirt they haven’t managed to find in the months since they discovered the first body?”

“I don’t—I don’t know, Cass. You’ll have to bring it up with Hotch. Maybe there’s something we don’t know yet that makes them so sure.”

“Maybe,” she said, though her tone made it clear how very much she doubted it. She told Hotch as much once the local detectives stepped out of the room.

“It feels lazy—I mean half of these so-called sightings were made by people who’s chases were dropped in exchange for their statements. I mean, isn’t it strange there’s no CCTV footage backing any of this up I really think it’s worth going back through and—“

“A lack of physical evidence doesn’t mean he’s innocent either,” Rossi said, raising an eyebrow.

“It does, actually in any court other than Kangaroo. I mean, if everyone’s already decided he’s the guy, why are we even here? Maybe it’s because there’s not even enough to hold him past 72 hours, never mind get a search warrant from a judge who’s ever opened a law book.”

“Listen, sweetheart, maybe you should stick to the CSI and we’ll work on the profile, alright?”

Cassie stared at him for a moment before turning to Hotch. He didn’t meet her gaze. 

“I need you to go to the morgue and examine the most recent victim,” Hotch said, nodding towards the door. She stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed before she turned on her heel. 

She went to the lab and compiled her report before asking someone to show her to the file storage. She often wished she could read as fast as Spencer, but found herself especially wishing when she saw the number of cabinets and knew how far she’d have to go back to prove her point. Still, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten really good at speed-combing files since she’d started hunting through Soviet files for a trace of Hadeon. 

She opened the first drawer and began pulling files. She just needed to track down the evidence to make them believe her. 

---

He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew something was wrong. Maybe the house was too quiet—maybe Emma had seemed too quiet before going to bed, early, of her own volition. He usually had to force her, or else she fell asleep on one of her books. He thought maybe she was sick—it was almost April and everyone at school was getting one bug or another. That or she could just be trying to avoid his dad. He wasn’t usually home for dinner, whether he was working or not, but he’d made them eat ‘as a family’ and he knew she’d been on the verge of a panic attack the whole time. 

He crept upstairs to where Emma’s bedroom was, careful to avoid the creaky stair. She was probably just asleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he checked on her. 

The door was slightly ajar and he froze, decade old panic seizing him. Emma was fast asleep, the blankets pulled off her, one arm still holding the stuffed elephant he’d dug out of his old toys to help her sleep. His dad was standing over her, eyes intent on her sleeping form. He’d pulled down her pants to expose her underwear, was tracing the scars on her thighs with a sick sort of satisfaction.

Trevor didn’t think. He just pushed into the room and grabbed the lamp off the bureau. His father had enough time to turn before he brought it down, hard, on his head. He collapsed in a heap on the ground and Trevor threw the lamp on his head before crossing to Emma and pulling up her pajamas before crushing her in a hug. He started to panic when she didn’t quite wake, her eyes only half opening. 

“Memm? Fuck, wake up. Wake up.” He was shaking, his whole body was shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick.

“‘M trying,” she slurred. He searched her face, taking in the glossy expression, the too-big pupils and putting it together with how she’d seem to crash as soon as dinner ended. His dad had prepared everyone’s plates, making them wait at the table.

He’d put something in her food.

“We’re going, okay? I’m gonna pack you a bag, you gotta try and wake up, okay Memmie? Listen to me, you gotta wake up. Try really, really hard, okay?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. He took a deep breath and stepped over his dad, kicking him in the ribs as he went, and threw open the closet. He grabbed the duffle bag she’d come with and shoved all he could fit into it—clothes, shoes, books, the few toys she had laying about. He zippered it as much as he was able before throwing it over his shoulder and grabbing her from the bed, wrapping her blanket around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying in to his shoulder. He took her downstairs and packed his own bag full of clothes and all the cash he had on hand and whatever else he could fit. He’d have to leave the records, but it was a small price to pay to get out. 

He carried her for four blocks before he found a phone booth. He’d ripped out the page of his notebook that had Claw’s number scribbled on it. He’d never meant to use it—he ran with a much heavier crowd and even though he was fun to hang out with and drink, he didn’t want to get mixed up in whatever he was running. 

Still, he was the only person Trevor knew that didn’t live with their parents and would never rat them out to the police, no matter what. 

He dropped in the coins and dialed, listening to it ring and ring until he was convinced no one would pick up. He was just about to hang up when a voice answered, sounding either very exhausted or very stoned. Maybe both.

“Hello?”

“Hi, um, this is Trev, I was looking for Claw?”

“Oooh the the Rat King guy, right? Yeah, gimme a second. CLAW! PHONE!”

“Hey, it’s Claw.”

“It’s Trev, um, I need a huge favor.”

“Man, you’re too young for me to sell—“

“No, no—I need somewhere to crash with my little sister. My dad—my dad was gonna hurt her so I hit him with a lamp and he might be dead, but we need a place to lay low. He’s a cop, so we’re fucked.”

“Fuck dude. Yeah, okay. Where are you? We’ll pick you up.”

Trevor gave him the address and hung up, scanning the street for oncoming traffic, for his dad’s beat up truck, for police lights. His heart was still hammering in his chest, his breathing too fast. He sat on the curb and squeezed his eyes shut, hugging Emma tighter to him as he tried to push away the flood of memories.

He’d almost been too late. 

He glanced down at her, smoothing back her hair to look at her face. She was fast asleep, her body limp, though when he checked her breathing it was normal. He smoothed his thumb over the scar on her cheek and hoped she wouldn’t remember tonight, wouldn’t have another reason to wake up screaming. 

He didn’t know what they’d do once they got to Claw’s—it wasn’t like he had a ton of money saved and he knew there would be people looking for them, people who would put Emma right back in that house with his monster of a father. He could figure it out though—he’d be eighteen in nine months and then it would be easier, by then they’d right them off as runaways. 

He just needed to focus on getting them through the next few days. 

---

Cassie walked back to the conference room, a thick stack of files in her arms. She was careful to obscure the names on the tabs, eyes peeled for any of the officers mentioned in the files. The last thing she needed to do right now was tip them off that she'd figured out why they were so insistent on pursuing their single lead, why'd they'd pulled in the FBI to legitimize and caver up the extent of what was actually happening.

“What are we doing wasting time with this, Hotch? She’s a glorified lab rat, what does she know about child abduction cases?” Rossi said, irritation plain.  “I’m sure she’s great in the lab, but the profile—“ 

Cassie stepped into the room and cleared her throat, schooling her face into something completely neutral. They’d both know that she’d heard what he’d said, but she wasn’t about to give anyone that satisfaction of an emotional reaction. She closed the door behind her to be safe, careful to keep her voice low and even and difficult for anyone passing by to overhear.

“I pulled the files of similar cases from the last few decades, I can have Dr. Reid go through them if that’s the most efficient use of time, they present a pattern that I believe excludes Boucher as a suspect and outlines something far more insidious. I also just got back the chemical analysis from the latest victim which shows a fairly nuanced use of forensic countermeasures, as I predicted, though I was able to isolate a single sample, which I’m running against VICAP. I’ll let you know if I get any hits,” she said, addressing only Hotch. He nodded.

“Hold off on the files, I want you and Reid to nail down the geographic profile as much as possible and run it against the places we know Boucher frequents.”

“Sir, I really think this deserves further investigation, it implicates—“

“Work the geographic profile for now. We’ll circle back if necessary.”

She stared at him for a moment, pursing her lips. Hotch had never cut her off like that, or disregarded what she had to say. Not until Rossi showed up. 

Still, she nodded before turning on her heel and walking back to the conference room where Spencer was working. 

“What’d he say about the files?”

“He wants you to nail down the geographic profile and figure out what overlap it has with Boucher’s routine.”

“Fair enough. Sorry, I know it’s not the angle you wanted to work.”

“I just—I’m going to get some air.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just need to cool down.”

“Okay. Just—let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She nodded, and walked back to the file room where she’d organized dozens of files, all documenting a frighteningly similar MO spanning nearly thirty years. A handful were unsolved—the ones that resulted in murder. But the rest, were the victims had survived—she’d really had to dig for them, because they’d all been dropped. Some had never been properly filed in the first place, just tucked away in the back of a file cabinet to rot. 

She was seething—of course it was easier to just go after Trevor, to follow the asinine little rabbit trail that seemed to oh-so-conveniently lead directly to him, outlined perfectly by the local-yokels. Why bother to look any deeper, to wonder why it seemed so obvious, why they’d be called in for such an obvious collar.

“I can’t wait until we can just haul Boucher in and be done with it. Fucking tired of all this federal profiling crap.”

Cassie froze. She recognized detective Meyer’s voice.

“As long as they find enough to book him,” came another voice, deeper. Detective Barlowe, then.

“We’ll make sure they find it,” Meyers replied and the pair laughed. “After that, no one will keep digging if he happens to, you know.”

Cassie’s stomach twisted. They were going to kill him. Pin it on him and kill him.

Sometimes she fucking hated being right. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She waited until she was sure they’d wandered off before grabbing the stack of files and shoving them into her bag. She deposited her work laptop on the little desk in the corner of the file room and zipped everything up before taking the battery out of her cell phone, that way the last GPS ping would be at the station.

She stared at it for a long moment, knowing there wasn’t any going back. Still, if she stayed—she’d already tried to convince the rest of the team that Trevor wasn’t their unsub, had said over and over that the profile wasn’t right, that it felt like a frame job, but no one seemed to take her seriously. She doubted they’d take her seriously when she told them the department was dirty, that she’d heard Barlowe and Meyers laughing about planting evidence. Doubted even more they’d believe they were planning to murk him.

It was the same shit she’d had to put up with the last six years with her own case—how many time had she been brushed off for her ‘crackpot theories,’ how many reprocessing requests had been denied, how many requests to officially re-open the case had been all but laughed out of the higher ups offices? She was tired of it, tired of shitty police work, tired of negligence and apathy and downright sabotage. 

That was why she’d joined the FBI, after all—because no one gave enough of a shit to even attempt to solve her case. Because if she didn’t do it, no one would. Because she’d do the right thing, she’d always do the right thing—that was what she’d promised herself. It was why she first ended up in the Smithsonian lab, running samples the regular lab wouldn’t, doing basic evidentiary due diligence. It had started off with her parents’ case of course, but there were so many others that had been shunted to similar statuses, enough that she’d created her referral system, her work-around to circumvent unit chiefs that couldn’t think out of the box.

She didn’t have one of the highest solve rates in CASMIRC from fucking around and holding to methods and theories she knew didn’t work. No, she’d only invented an entirely new method to identifying remains, for widening the pool of reference, for turning dead ends into new leads. 

But then again, she was only a ‘glorified lab rat.’

And as long as she didn’t end up with a felony charge, she had a job waiting for whenever she wanted doing just that—Dr. Garvey would be thrilled. And it wasn’t as if the FBI had gotten her much closer to Hadeon. Sure, she had access to VICAP and files of possible suspects or more crimes, but the only true breakthrough she’d managed was because of her research in the lab. 

She hesitated for a moment, thinking of Spencer in the other room, diligently working on tracking down an innocent man whom he thought to be the obvious killer. She could tell him what she was about to do, tell him that she was going to walk away from it all. He’d try to talk her out of it, someone might hear, and then he’d either have to tell Hotch her plan and possibly give away any surprise advantage she might have had, or he’d have to lie and be made complicit.

It wasn’t fair to him, either way. Not when there was no chance he’d change her mind. She tried not to think about how her walking out without a word would gut him, how it would bring up all the awful memories of Gideon and his father, how he’d specifically asked her not to. 

She wasn’t leaving, not really. It would be a few days at most, a few days to put it all together, to find that little girl instead of wasting her time like everyone else on a wild goose chase. She wasn’t going to waste her time being hamstringed by protocol when she had a chance of preventing another death by doing what she knew was right.

Two, if she could manage it.

She scribbled a note, tucking it into Spencer’s cardigan pocket, which he’d left slung over a chair in the bullpen. She hoped it would be enough for him to understand.

She walked out of the station, bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t look back, just kept walking until she was half a dozen blocks away, until she’d walked too far to turn back. This, at least, she could do. 

She could disappear. 

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[swagatron9]

Forgotten Innocence

Chapter 4 A/N: I promise this is Daryl Dixon Fan Fic

~ Sylvia Bennet ~

3rd person:

Sylvia watched as Silas held the gun up with both hands, he aimed at the bucket on the fence post but missed when he fired. "Don't be discouraged. The more you try the better you'll get." Shane commented as he walked past. Silas groaned as he once again her the click of the gun needing to be reloaded, this had already happened a few more times before and yet he still had not hit the target.

"I can't do it, Sylvie," Silas whined.

"You'll never hit it by whining. Keep trying." Sylvia said. Sylvia herself pulled out her own gun and aimed at her target.

RIck walked past and stopped as he watched Sylvia shoot at the tin can. "You've got a good stance, good aim too. Where'd you learn to shoot from?"He asked curiously.

"Used to go hunting from time to time." She admitted to the older man.

Rick hummed in response. "I imagine you're not used to guns this light then." Sylvia shrugged her shoulders.

"This is alright. I don't mind this."

An hour later we returned back to the farm. "Do you think we can try that again? That was so much fun." Silas questioned Sylvia.

"I'll take you out again tomorrow and you can practise some more," Sylvia replied.

Maggie approached Sylvia as she returned and pulled her aside from the group."Goin' on another run. Glenn's gonna be comin' along but I wanted to talk to you 'bout somethin'." Sylvia agreed to join the two on another pharmacy run but still, she couldn't help the slight feeling of jealousy that radiate at the thought of the two of them together.

Glenn and Sylvia had never formally been introduced to one another that's probably why the two of them didn't interact on the ride to the pharmacy, instead, it was Glenn and Maggie that spoke. "You didn't have to come, you can hate me from a distance," Glenn spoke. Maggie ignored his words and focused on the road in front of her. "Please say something." Once again silence. "Maggie-"

"I asked for your trust and you betrayed it. Now my Dad's pissed at me." Maggie snapped. Glenn eyed me cautiously before continuing to speak.

Glenn let out an exhausted sigh. "So, your dad thinks they're sick? You agree with that? Even after what you saw at the well? What do you think about those walkers?" Glenn directed the final question towards Sylvia.

"There's not really much to think of them-"

Maggie cut Sylvia off. "I'm not sure what I saw at the well."

"Yes, you are. Look if you'd seen Atlanta you would not have a barn full of walkers-"

This time Maggie cut off Glenn."I wish you would stop calling them that." Sylvia recognised the annoyance on Maggie's face and in her words but she could understand where Glenn was coming from.

"What do you call them?"

"Mom, Shawn, Mr and Mrs Fischer, Lacy and Duncan." Maggie listed off the names of the people that she cared for and loved.

"Look, Maggie. You've been trapped on that farm this whole time. You wouldn't understand half the stuff someone like me or anyone else had to go through. We had to fight to live while you were sitting on your couch playing family with the people you still have. You should be thankful to still have those people alive, once they're bit, they're dead." Sylvia helped Glenn attempt to get through to Maggie, but she still refused to believe otherwise.

"What does she want now?" Maggie snarked at Glenn as we entered the pharmacy.

"I can't say." Glenn looked away.

"So, one of them asks to you keep your mouth shut-"

Glenn yanked out a piece of paper and shoved it in Maggie's direction. "Crawl out of my butt, help me look, please." He sighed once more.

Maggie read the piece of paper and scoffed as she showed Sylvia. "You have got to be kidding me," Maggie said before marching off into the back.

Sylvia tagged along as she figured that was where the pills would be. "What did you want to talk about?" Sylvia asked.

Maggie searched through the pill bottles. "About us." Sylvia frowned at Maggie's words as she waited to hear what she had to say. "I know we had that talk last night about us and all, but I've been thinkin', and don't hate me, but I don't think I can do it. Besides I've also been seeing..." Maggie's eyes trailed over to Glenn as he searched around the place. Sylvia couldn't help but scoff. "I'm sorry, I just hope you can understand," Maggie added.

"Yeah, I understand." Sylvia brushed past the farmer's daughter and went to leave the store.

"I'm gonna look at some more stores down the road, you two can leave when you're ready," Sylvia told Glenn. He nodded his head but appeared suspicious as he glanced between the two women. he shrugged it off as nothing and said goodbye to the woman he'd just met today.

Sylvia felt she had been played, but on the other hand, she felt as though she had no right to feel that she had been cheated on. After all, they hadn't established a relationship between the pair, but she thought she deserved to receive a bit more respect from the person she'd grown closest to on the farm.

Sylvia walked down the path as she glanced around at the empty street. It was then that she realised what exactly Glenn had been talking about. "A barn full of walkers?" She mumbled to herself. It hadn't fully registered in her head what the two were conversing about until now.

She found herself in another pharmacy, only this one was more hidden from the rest and it wasn't as obvious that it was a pharmacy. The supplies in the store were mainly all there so Sylvia took this as her opportunity to grab what she needed.

There were bandages, pain killers and plenty more that would be needed so she took them. She also grabbed things like the beef jerky sticks they had on the front counter.

Sylvia sat down in the corner of the store and just thought. She thought about everything that happened past, present and what could happen in the future. She thought about what happened before the world decided to come to an end, she wondered if the world was actually worse now or not. Sylvia got the freedom she wanted, the freedom to finally be the one, in a way legally, looking after Silas. People hurt Sylvia before and people hurt her now, but the difference is there are no laws that say you can't hurt people, so now Sylvia was less inclined to feel that the world had betrayed her. In a way, it was almost relieving to live life like this and she had grown to accept it.

#Maggie Greene #maggie greene x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader

[temporalbystander]

Guys.... I don't know who else needs to hear this. Or who else is also suffering like I am right now... But can we STOP with the reliance on computers!!!! Just..... *Sighs* bad language and lots of rage under the cut...

I'm not talking about technology, would be hypocritical, I mean keyboard and mouse, full package material computers. Why am I beyond fucking pissed right now? Well I'll tell you.

Yesterday I mentioned how I discovered Yu-Gi-Oh Tag Force was a thing. Today, I discovered that all 6 can be downloaded onto a PSP emulator. And that said emulator is easily installed through the app store. So far so great right? Oh no. What's the first thing that pops up when you click "where do I get games?" It takes you to your phone/tablets browser and essentially goes. "If you're on Android, download the file on your computer and transfer it to your device."

Hehehe.... Heres a crazy thought? If all it needs is a .iso file? Which it does. And those files are easily downloaded through the same browser you just opened up.... Which they are.... And, I can't stress this enough, if you're going to make an emulator available on Android devices.... WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU TELL ME TO USE MY COMPUTER!!!

Seriously! Don't you think that if I had the ability to open these files on a computer that I would... Oh I don't know.... USE THE EMULATOR ON THE FUCKING COMPUTER!!! There's one available, I saw the link right above the description of what to do on Android.

"But blog owner?" I hear you ask, "didn't you say you could download the files on your phone anyway?" Indeed I did. "Well then what's the problem?"

Very good question my friends. You see... There wouldn't be a problem. Files downloaded fine, emulator runs them fine (well unless it's a USA based file instead of a Europe one... Not sure what the issue with that was and didn't really have time to look into it before I got mad at the other problem.) But here's the thing... Yu-Gi-Oh Tag Force? Suffers from this little issue I label "English speakers are either cheap. Or stupid."

You see. Tag Force has these wonderful little cuts everytime your opponent sets a card or draws or gets attacked. Lovely little immersion bits. However... When the review I watched said "They even got the Japanese voice actors, too bad they couldn't do the same for English." I assumed, like most probably would, that they DIDN'T get the GX voice actors to record those lines.... And well... They didn't.... They didn't get ANYONE to record those lines! So here I am, speeding through the duels because all I'm hearing is clicks and explosion like sound effects while reading, as if I turned off the voice volume somehow.

But okay, that's fine, no biggie. I'll just use the Japanese voices... Oh wait. I can't. Because, instead of letting the players listen to SOMETHING while reading the translations, they just coded the voice volume at zero... And here... Here's where I got even more pissed. Because there are fixes for this online, of course there is it's the internet. Even ones that are extra helpful and include the program you need to do the patching yourself so I'll just tap on that and.... Oh yeah. It's a .exe file. Android can't run executable files.

Putting aside WHY we need an OS to rub a single type of file, when most phones now are capable of running games that required multiple discs 10 years ago, not a single person. Not a one. Ever considered how you'd do this on an Android device. Even putting the word android into the search engine didn't help! Which wouldnt be so bad... If, as I JUST said, it weren't for the fact IT EXISTS ON THE FUCKING APP STORE!

But again... That'd be fine... Quick search to see if there's anything on the app store thatd run these files and... Oh would you look at that? I already have it installed. So, I decide to make things as easy for me as possible. Download all the .iso for all the games. Download all the patches to turn the voices on, as well as a translation for the game that wasn't released outside Japan, and I spend the better part of an hour or two waiting for the files to download. Extracting the files. Patching the files. Deleting the non patched files and the downloaded zip folders so it's not a complete mess. And then I open the first game again. It opens fine. Runs like before. Overwrite the old save data, enter my name again and.... The character models are now black squares.

At that point I deleted everything. Said fuck it all and permanently erased it, emptied the bin, everything. Now... Should I have only done it one game at a time? Probably. Should I have taken it slow and saw if it worked? Yes. But... And I can't stress this enough... When theres an app that exists (that you can buy an upgrade for btw, didnt even bother checking what that includes) and is known as the ONLY emulator that works for PSP games. And all these files need is to be downloaded... And ran... I don't think I'm at fault for assuming it would work...

Even if I'm not on A FUCKING COMPUTER THAT I SHOULDNT FUCKING NEED FOR SOMETHING THIS FUCKING SIMPLE!!!!

#cw language #ooc #munt rants #angry mun

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

#oh my god this is filth #Would you believe I wrote my first smut like a week ago? #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #marvel #falcon and winter solider series #fatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #smut #marvel fanfiction

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭 ~ 𝐇.𝐋 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Based off the prompt:   “𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭. 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.”

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Swearing

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: Family always came first to you. That’s why you moved to Tokyo with your baby brother despite being miserable every single day, until you met him.

If NYC was the city that never slept then Tokyo was it’s younger sibling who was constantly trying to outdo the elder child. You ignored your younger brother who sat beside you in the taxi, leaning your head against the window and admiring the bright neon lights that stood out against the black of the sky.

No stars were visible, and the noise of the city was audible from inside the taxi, grinding against your ears. You hated it.

“Y/n.” You yanked my head from the cool glass of the window, leaving it foggy in your absence as Sean gently called your name. “We’re here.”

It was then you noticed the taxi had come to a stop, in front of a small looking building.

“This is it?” You asked, only getting a nod and sigh in response as the two of you exited the small vehicle, him sighing loudly as he picked up the bags.

You approached the door and knocked, waiting impatiently as the city air bit and nipped at your rosy red cheeks and nose.

It opened, revealing the man you recognized to be your father. You took a step back, turning the volume of the music in your ears up and letting Sean do the talking. You observed as their mouths moved, and the door closed on the two of you, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion before relaxing as it opened again.

This time he was fully clothed and a woman quickly scurried out from behind him, not giving any of you a second glance.

You pulled the earbud out, looking between your brother and father.

“Who was that?” You asked, following the two of them into the cramped building.

“A friend.” Your father responded sharply, before going over the ground rules and showing you to your rather small rooms.

The sleep was terrible that night. Unable to get comfortable on the thin mattress, and longing to be back at home in America. After all, you weren’t the child who had screwed up.

                                                  【~~~】

It took about three days for the reality of the situation you were in to settle in.

You were living in Tokyo. And you wouldn’t be returning home any time soon.

It was quite a rude shock when it finally hit you, and that’s when the tears every night started to pay visits.

You sure as hell weren’t the one who had fucked up, destroying not one but two cars, illegally racing and crashing through the frame of a house waiting to be built. No, that was Sean. But as usual you also had to pay for his mistakes and so off to Tokyo you went with him, leaving behind your friends, your family and your car.

It wasn’t like your mother was expecting you to live here forever with Sean. After all you were almost nineteen and very much so capable of making your own decisions.

She had wanted you to go with him for the first month though, not wanting him to be completely alone with no one but your father there for him, and by painting it out to be some exotic holiday she had convinced you to tag along.

It was a mistake.

Sean had started coming home later and later every night, adjusting well to life in the city. You on the other hand, had absolutely no friends, and despised your days with every fiber of your being. You had begun marking days off your calendar, counting down eagerly for the month to be over and for you to return home.

“I hate it here.” You shoveled food into your mouth, standing with your back against the counter of the kitchen as Sean absentmindedly filled a glass of water. “Why did I choose to come with you?”

“How would I know?.” He mumbled under his breath, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed.

“You know if you hadn’t been so-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I get enough if that from Mom and Dad. Don’t need it from you too.”

His accent was far stronger than yours, and you mocked him, feeling defeated when he just rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone.

He read whatever was on the screen with a small smile on his face and nosily you leaned over, wanting to get a look.

“Fuck off.” He shoved your shoulder, still smiling.

“What’s got you looking all happy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at you, a mischievous smile on his lips as you waited.

“How do you feel about going out tonight?”

                                                 【~~~】

Bodies crammed together in the parking garage, all surrounding the hundreds of cars parked in the lot. The immaculate paint jobs shined in the harsh neon lights, and most of them had their hoods up and their incredible engines on display, leaving your jaw on the ground every time.

You stuck close to Sean and Twinkie, feeling safer with your younger brother and his best friend. You felt intimidated by the gorgeous women who surrounded you, not that you were there to impress anyone. You were there for the cars.

The shitty 1990 Accord you had back in the states was nothing compared to the beasts that were parked in here.

You could feel vibrations in the ground, from the music and cars and it brought a small smile to your face as you walked through the swarm of people.

Sean’s eyes were scanning the crowd intently, clearly searching for someone.

He finally located who he was after and pulled you and Twinkie in the direction, his smile growing.

“There are some people I want you to meet.”

You were introduced to some faces you knew you wouldn’t remember, a gorgeous girl named Neela being one of the few you did.

You didn’t miss the way they looked at each other, or the way her boyfriend would possessively interrupt when you were talking to her, much to her dismay.

“And finally,” Sean said as you approached a man leaning back against his car, a small smirk on his face. “The one and only, Han.”

You flicked your eyes up to meet his, ignoring the way your breath slightly hitched in your throat.

He stuck his hand out to grasp yours, and you gripped it back with the same smirk he was wearing.

“Y/n.” You introduced yourself, not missing the way his eyes slowly traveled up and down your body. “I’m sorry about what my brother did to your car.”

His eyes returned to you, a smile on his face.

“It’s fine. Plenty of others sitting in that garage.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his smile turning into a shy grin.

“Better keep Sean away from them then.” You teased, turning to your brother only to realize he had left.

You noticed him standing by Neela again, walking around her car while her boyfriend, Takashi, watched intently from afar.

“He’s in love. Has been since he saw her.” Han rolled his eyes, popping a chip into his mouth.

“Hard to see why he wouldn’t be.” You said. “She’s beautiful. Kind. Into cars.”

“And what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you kind? Into cars?” He asked, following your eyes to Sean and Neela.

“You forgot beautiful.” You said with a small laugh as you moved to stand next to him, leaning against the Mazda RX-7 behind you. You were praying to god it was his car, otherwise the lucky owner would probably get very, very pissed.

“Nah.” He turned his head and looked down at you. “Don’t need to ask you that to figure it out.”

A blush crept into your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face.

“Well, usually when someone is kind they don’t run around telling others about it.” Your eyes met his again. “And I love cars.”

He grinned at you, and you turned your head to look back at Sean.

A part of you wanted to play hard to get, but the other part knew that even after only five seconds of talking to this man you were fucking done for and he knew that as well.

“And what about you?” You copied his earlier words, elaborating when you saw his confused face. “Are you kind? Into cars? Beautiful?”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed. “Sweetheart I’m a damn model.”

You let out a laugh, feeling yourself relax.

“I was kind enough to not beat your brother to death after he totaled my car.” Han joked. “And as for cars-” He gestured to the garage, full of stunning, high performance cars capable of stealing your heart in a matter of seconds. “-I probably wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like them.”

“Yeah I suppose that was obvious.” You let out a content sigh. This was the first time you had forgotten about your little countdown, and also the longest conversation you had had with someone who you weren’t related to.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, admiring the cars that surrounded you for a few minutes before he turned back to you again.

“What are you doing here Y/n?”

Your head turned to his, your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, you think Sean doesn’t gush about his amazing older sister every chance he gets?” Han rolled his eyes at you like you were stupid.

“No. I find that very hard to believe.” You let out a small laugh. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Sean told me that you were eighteen, turning nineteen in a few months time. No one is forcing you to be here, in Japan.” Han explained, his dark eyes staring into yours. “And yet here you are. Living in Tokyo, miserable, because your delinquent brother couldn’t stay out of trouble in the states. Why?”

Your mouth opened, then closed, then fell open again. You turned your head away from the piercing dark eyes and glanced at your brother.

“Because that guy who destroyed your car is my baby brother. He’s the closest family I’ve got.” You watched Sean as he spoke to Neela, hearts in his eyes. “Family stick together Han. I couldn’t let him just up and leave to a brand new country, with no one but our father there for him.”

Han watched the way you spoke, feeling a warmth across his chest.

“It’s my job to protect him and be there for him, and I don’t care if I’m miserable the whole time I’m doing it. I’m going to be there.”

His jaw almost dropped as your words hit him like bricks.

“You know,” He started. “You remind me of someone I used to go way back with.”

You scoffed light-heartedly.

“How old are you?”

He just grinned. “Too old for you.”

“Well luckily for you, my age is too young for me.” You said. Despite your tone being confident your body was completely betraying you, bracing itself for rejection.

Instead he just laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

Both of your heads snapped to the right as someone called his name, and you felt your heart fall when you realized that he was probably going to leave.

He sent a quick wave to the person who called out and pushed himself off the Mazda, gazing down at you.

“You know,” He started, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “If you ever get bored during the day you should come by the garage. I think I could make it worth your time.”

You let out a small laugh.

“We’ll see.”

                                                【~~~】

“You made friends pretty fast.” Sean said teasingly as you entered the kitchen, your hair sticking up in all kinds of directions.

“Yeah and so did you apparently.” You sent a sarcastic smile back in his direction. “Pity she’s taken.”

The smile on his face dropped instantly and he went back to his breakfast, ignoring you.

After a few minutes of silence between the two of you he spoke up again.

“So are you gonna?”

You looked up from your phone and coffee, furrowing your brows.

“Am I gonna what?”

“Swing by Han’s garage?” He had a knowing smirk on his face. “He told me all about your little conversation.”

You just shrugged casually, not wanting to let him know how you really felt inside.

“Maybe, if I have the time.”

“All you have here is time.” He scoffed. “All you’ve done for the past few days is buy food, eat it, then sleep. You may as well.”

You let out a sigh and finished what was left of your drink.

“Yeah, and for your information Sean, it’s been great.”

“You know you wanna Y/n.” He teased, a grin on his face.

“How about this,” You started. “Let me know next time you head over there. Maybe I’ll tag along.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sean said. “Especially given that I’ll be there tonight.”

Your cool demeanor dropped and your eyes widened.

“Tonight?”

“That’s what I said.” He grinned. “I’ll be sure to let him know he can look forward to seeing you there with me.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” You whispered under your breath.

He just shrugged his shoulders.

“You’d be doing me a favor if it meant I’d never have to see your gross face again.”

“What are you? Five?” You asked.

“I’d say that’s about right.”

You just scoffed at him, heading back to your room.

Not that you’d ever admit it to Sean, but you were glad that he’d be heading over to the garage tonight.

You would definitely rather die than tell him that though.

                                               【~~~】

You shut the car door behind you and stepped out into the cool evening air.

Sean had come by to pick you up after he had finished school, and you had been anxiously waiting all day.

Now you were finally here, and still very, very anxious.

“This doesn’t look like a garage to me.” You furrowed your brows, looking out at the water.

“That’s because it’s in there.” Sean pointed to the large brick building. “We’re gonna stay out the front, this is where Han’s been teaching me how to drift.”

“Oh.” You managed to get out, following your baby brother to a group of people who were all sitting down by stacks of tires.

All four faces were familiar, but you only remembered the names of two of them.

“Y/n.” Han greeted you, nodding his head with a smile as he casually held the bottle in his hand.

“Hi.” You smiled back at him, your nerves starting to melt away.

Sean gestured to the empty seat beside Han, and you took it.

The others tossed you friendly smiles which you returned, and Han looked up at Sean.

“Go get your sister a drink.” He said.

Sean did as he was asked, reaching into the cooler that had been brought along and handing you a bottle of something.

“Are you gonna have one?” You asked your brother as you opened it and took a small sip.

“Can’t drink and drive now, can I?” He smirked, digging his keys out of his pocket and heading back towards the Evo.

“Well that’s a first.” You scoffed, and you heard Han let out a small laugh beside you.

“I’m guessing the cowboy doesn’t wanna fuck up another one of Han’s cars.” Twinkie said, watching Sean as his climbed into the car and started it.

You looked over at Han.

“That’s your car?”

“Yep.” He nodded proudly, watching Sean as he started his usual route around the dock.

“How many more have you got hiding in that garage of yours?” You asked with a small laugh.

“You’ll have to come see for yourself.” He shrugged.

“Maybe.” You shrugged as well, missing the way Twinkie and the others looked back and forth at each other.

“You know,” Han started. “If you haven’t got any other plans tonight, I could take you out for a drive, grab some food. Maybe come back to the garage when everyone’s gone.” He said the last part quietly enough for only you to hear.

You looked over to Sean in the car, able to make out his face of concentration despite how far away you were from him. He wouldn’t miss you for one night.

“When do we leave?” You asked with a smile.

He grinned with a surprised laugh, and you could tell he had been expecting you to say no.

“Now, if that works for you.”

You looked back at Sean, wincing at the sound of the tires screaming against the road.

“Sounds good.”

                                              【~~~】

The two of you had ended up getting cheap food from a side-of-the-road vendor, eating in silence in the car before making small talk about everything, from your life back in America to what kind of animals you thought you could take on in a fight.

You were laughing when you stumbled out of the RX-7 and into the cool night air, following Han into the garage which wasn’t that much warmer.

You didn’t know what you had expected when you walked into the garage, but it definitely wasn’t what you saw.

Han gestured for you to follow him up some stairs to an open second story, furnished with a small kitchen, table and chair, and living area.

“Wow.” You mumbled under your breath, realizing he must have some serious money to be able to afford all of this. Not to mention the cars in there, some of which cost more than your house, car and life savings combined.

“It’s my pride and joy.” He pointed towards the sofa, and you took a seat, sinking in to the plush material as he opened the fridge and called out to you. “You want a drink?”

“Yeah thanks.” You smiled, and he pulled out two of the same bottles you had been drinking from earlier.

He took a seat beside you, on the opposite edge of the relatively small sofa, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on your night, before you spoke up.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, and he looked at you in confusion. “For what you’re doing for Sean, I mean.”

“It’s not a problem.” He brushed it off. “He’s a good kid, the kinda person I want to be around.”

You let out a scoff.

“Well I wouldn’t go that far.”

He chuckled at you.

“Thank you.” He said, and this time it was your turn to be confused. “You might not realize it. but coming out here with Sean has made it so much easier for him. He probably won’t ever tell you, but he’s grateful as hell and crazy lucky to have you in his life.”

A small blush crept up onto your cheeks, and you almost didn’t notice as he crept closer towards you. Almost.

“Yeah well he’s also crazy lucky to have met you.” You said quietly, your eyes meeting his as the two of you drew closer and closer. “I am too.” You whispered.

“And why’s that?” He asked, his tone matching yours, and you swore the room got hotter by about twenty degrees.

“You’re kind,” You started, remembering back to last night when you met him. “Into cars.” You continued, and he nodded along, agreeing with you.

“You forgot beautiful.” He whispered, just inches from your face now, and you smiled cheekily.

“You’re a damn model sweetheart.”

He grinned, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly and before you could realize what was happening his lips were on yours.

Your hands instinctively went to his hair, pulling him closer to you as you laid down flat on your back, feeling his hands roam up and down your body.

You felt butterflies erupt in your chest as your hands wandered from the back of his head, and so did your mind.

Sean’s face flashed in your mind and you inhaled sharply, pushing Han off of you and sitting up, breathing heavily.

“Shit.” You hissed, moving to the edge of the sofa and holding your head in your hands. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Han asked, also breathing heavily. His tone sounded confused, and guilt racked through your body. “I’m sorry.” His voice changed to apologetic. “I thought you wanted to.”

“I do.” You whined. “I want to, but I can’t. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He asked, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Sean.” You turned to look him in the eyes, and his face dropped.

“Shit.” He said.

“Shit.” You agreed.

The two of you sat in silence, still trying to catch your breaths, and trying to think of a way to fix the now incredibly awkward situation.

“I think I should leave.” You said, pushing yourself up off the sofa.

“Y/n don’t go.” Han protested. “It’s the middle of the night and you’ve been drinking. Neither of us can drive and I’m not going to let you walk home or get into a taxi with some creep.”

You let out a sigh, not letting him see how the fact that he cared that much made you all warm and fuzzy inside, or how the fact that it made you all warm and fuzzy inside made you want to gag.

“What do I do then?” You asked.

“Take my bed.” He nodded towards a door that you were assuming led to his bedroom. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“No way.” You protested. “This is your home Han, you aren’t sleeping on that tiny ass sofa. I can, it’s no problem.”

His eyes looked like he wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Ok. I’ll go grab you some blankets.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, laying down on the sofa.

It was undeniably comfortable, and you let your eyes close before Han returned, vaguely feeling him place a thick blanket over the top of you before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, leaving you with butterflies.

Your mind started to slip out of consciousness, and you let it, forgetting about how you were sleeping in Han’s garage, and planning on being out of there before he woke up the next morning.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Just a fun little something that took me about a week to finish writing! Hope you like it and requests are most certainly open <3

If anyone would like to be on the tag list for part 2, please let me know!

#han lue #han seoul oh #han seoul-oh #x reader #han lue imagine #han lue x reader #han seoul oh imagine #han seoul oh x reader #han seoul-oh imagine #han seoul-oh x reader #fast and furious imagine #fast and furious x reader #the fast and the furious imagine

[tripthelight-fanfic]

What You Deserve (Danny Wagner Imagine)

CONTENT WARNING: domestic abuse (nothing too detailed)

Taglist: @flowervanfleet​  @weightofdreams-gvf​ @sierraahhhh​ @stardustschords​ @amourleger​ and someone else asked too I think it was @ageofsewingmachine​ but I can’t find the comment if it wasn’t u sorry babe 

(A/N): HEY BESTIES it’s a nice rainy morning and I’m in my feels. Remember how I said I have a thing for hurt/comfort fanfic? Well this is that in a different way. So in this fic, you have a shitty boyfriend who’s always being disrespectful and the guys fucking HATE HIM (especially Danny who has feelings for you and is always there to pick up his slack bc you deserve it). And by the end, you come to realize the person who would treat you right was right in front of you the whole time!!!!!

Enjoy!

Also if any aspect of this toxic relationship is familiar to one you’re currently in, please seek out guidance and assistance because nobody deserves this kind of love. Certainly not one of my beautiful lovely readers ❤️

***************************************************

What You Deserve

You swore he wasn’t actually being mean to you, he just had a weird sense of humor that came off wrong in group settings. You were constantly apologizing for him and dealing with his attitude and expectations. The relationship had started out so nice and sweet, you couldn’t pinpoint the time when he started to grow cold. But deep down somewhere, you held out hope that the version of your boyfriend you fell in love with still existed.

You could tell it was pissing off the boys when he would tag along with you to their shows or out to bars. You all had been friends for a while and you could tell they didn’t like him at all. What you couldn’t tell was how one of them in particular uncharacteristically wanted to throw hands every time he walked through the door. Daniel Wagner definitely wouldn’t consider himself a volatile person, nor would anyone else, but if there was one thing that could get him going it was listening to your boyfriend being disrespectful toward you. The boys knew he had long harbored feelings for you but was always too timid to act on them, so instead he tortured himself watching you go for guys who didn’t see you for the absolute prize you are. It made him sick, but he valued your friendship as well so he put up with it.

There was one time when you all were at a bar together and there was a promotional clip on the tv behind the bar of Ariana Grande judging on the Voice.

“Oh wow, she looks amazing.” You commented to nobody in particular. She did, her outfit was absolutely beautiful and she’s finally started wearing her hair down which you think suits her.

Your lovely boyfriend surprised you by responding, “I mean, you could probably look like that too if you put the work in.”

You felt a chill in your chest when he said this; you weren’t necessarily looking for a compliment but you certainly weren’t expecting criticism.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, looking down at your drink.

What you didn’t see was the shared look of shock and disgust between the guys, sitting just on the other side of you. Jaws were clenched and fists were tightened in anger. They were very affectionate boys by nature and they didn’t do well when someone they cared about was being disrespected and they weren’t allowed to speak up.

“I’m gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” With that, he was up and gone. You sighed and looked back at the tv, Ariana’s face blown up again and you take another, more wistful look.

Danny watches your face and leans in to say, “You know, he shouldn’t be putting you down like that.”

You heaved a sigh, searching for an excuse for your boyfriends actions yet again, “I don’t think he meant it the way it came off.”

Danny shrugged and took a drink from his beer, “Whatever you say, Y/N.” He leans in a little closer to whisper in your ear, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful.”

You tried to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks as you saw your boyfriend approaching again from your peripheral.

Another time, your car broke down in the middle of a storm and you called your boyfriend only for him to vehemently refuse to drive out in the middle of a storm to jump your car. Near hysterical, tears were streaming down your face as you picked back up the phone and called the only other person that made sense— Danny.

He answered brightly, “Hey, Y/N! Are you seeing this storm right now? It looks insane!”

You chuckled a bit at his childlike excitement, biting your lip as you struck up the nerve to ask for help, “Haha, yeah it…. Really is crazy out here…”

“Wait, it sounds really loud on your end. Y/N, where are you right now?” You look up at your windshield and see the rain pelting down.

You hadn’t even said anything and Danny had already shown far more concern than the man who was supposed to be your “significant other.”

“Um,” You choked back a sob and managed out in a strained, faltering voice, “I actually, uh, I’m broken down in the backroads right now.”

You could hear rustling on the other end, “Holy shit, Y/N. Don’t worry, me and Sam are on our way. Send me your location we’ll be right there. Are you wet?”

You heard a “HA” on the other end, followed by a SMACK. It made you smile for a second, “I- yeah I went out to look, it’s just my battery.”

“Okay, I’m bringing you a sweater too.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Danny. This means a lot.”

Danny’s tone became more serious. “Y/N, trust me, this is bare minimum human decency. Just put on some music and try to relax until we get there.”

After he hung up, his words echoed into your head. If this was just basic human decency, why was it too much for your boyfriend to even consider?

Your car battery was dead so you couldn’t use the stereo, so instead you started playing the Vance Joy playlist on your phone and threw it into the backseat for some sort of surround sound.

After a couple songs came and went, you spotted headlights approaching from your rearview. Danny’s car pulled up in front of yours and turned to be facing the front of yours.

Him and Sam ran out of the car in raincoats, Sam headed straight for the hood of your car and popped it back up, whereas Danny came right to you in the drivers seat. His face softened when he saw you, certainly cold and wet but having downplayed to Danny. You were, in fact, soaked and shaking. He reaches the bunched up sweater out from his raincoat and pulls it over your head. Once it’s on, he rubs your arms with a smile in effort to warm you up, “You little shit, if I knew you were this cold I would’ve brought a blanket. You know, you don’t have to be so tough all the time.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a few seconds after he said this. You smiled warmly at him and he returned it until you both heard Sam calling Danny back over to the hood. “Stay here. I don’t wanna see another drop of rain hit you today.” Danny pointed at you as he said it, reaching over to poke your nose before darting over to Sam. You giggled to yourself, and then thought about when the last time your boyfriend made you giggle like that was. You honestly couldn’t remember.

They ended up jumping your car successfully and you drove home happily, breathing in Danny’s signature scent through the sweater that had been personally warmed up by his body. You knew you would have to answer to your boyfriend about what happened and where the sweater came from, but in that moment you didn’t care what he thought.

It was around this time when you were starting to consider leaving him, but he was a very manipulative man who would make you feel as though he was doing you a favor by dating him. He had dashed your confidence at every turn, but it was those moments alone with the boys, with Danny, that helped you start gaining it back. One by one, the Kiszkas all came to you and expressed their distaste for the guy you were dating, all citing different but equally damning events they witnessed. You tried to brush it off but it still lingered in your brain. You told them you’d consider leaving but it would be hard.

However, the decision was made easy at Josh and Jake’s birthday party. Their house was full of people, some you’d met through the guys and some absolute strangers. Your boyfriend insisted on tagging along, already suspicious of Danny after the sweater incident, and you could see the disappointment on each of their faces when they saw you had brought them. They still acted civil but much colder to him.

Around midway through the night, you two were in the corner arguing about something. You had “left him” to go chat with the guys (because the guys couldn’t stand him) and he was absolutely furious to be left alone in a party full of strangers that, you pointed out, he insisted on coming to.

You glanced over and saw three of the guys (Danny, Sammy, and Jake) watching the encounter from across the room, arms crossed. Josh was somewhere else being the life of the party. You put up a hand to signal that you were okay, but the hand flew down when your boyfriend grabbed your face and turned it back to him, “Look at me, I’m talking to you.”

Over in the other corner, the guys did not appreciate that action. “If he lays another finger on her I’m gonna kick his ass right here right now.” Danny growled, muscles tensing.

Jake shook his head in confusion, “I just can’t believe she hasn’t left him yet. He treats her like dirt.”

Danny ran his fingers through his hair, “I have no idea, dude, he has some kind of grip on her.”

Back on your side of the room, the conversation was going from bad to worse. “Honestly, sometimes it feels like I’m sharing you with four other goddamn dudes! Why do you need to spend all your time with them when you have me?”

You knit your brows together, “They’re my friends. Why are you trying to isolate me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, don’t put words into my mouth, Y/N. You know you’re only friends with them because they think you’re hot and you like the attention. It’s honestly sickening.”

You swallowed the pain in your stomach from his comments, hoping to God they weren’t true on any level, and summoned as much bravery as you could muster to look him in the eye and say, “Well I had to get it from someone. I haven’t gotten shit from you since I don’t know when.”

In a split second, everything changed. You felt a hand collide with your face and your body flew back to the wall. You were shocked for a moment, reaching up to touch your now-pulsating face gingerly. He had certainly “handled” you before, similar to earlier when he grabbed your face. But he had never hit you. You looked back up at your “boyfriend,” eyes wide with fear. “Why did you do that?” Your voice trembled, all of the confidence you had moments ago gone.

Like he always did, his expression softened and he leaned over to reach for you, “Oh, baby, I didn’t mean-“

You stepped further away from him, back hitting the wall again. You asked again, louder, “Why did you do that?!”

Suddenly he was gone. In the few seconds it took you to react to him hitting you, all three of the boys had forced their way across the room, vision red with rage. Jake wedged himself between you and him, putting a hand against the wall protectively, while Sam and Danny all but tackled your boyfriend to the floor. The commotion quickly attracted a crowd and you watched in horror as your boyfriend fought them back, landing a few punches on both of them before Danny finally knocked him out with a good hit to the head.

Josh emerged from the crowd, confused eyes growing wide when he saw Sam and Danny stand up with your unconscious boyfriend’s arms draped over their shoulders, “Well, looks like it’s finally time for someone to leave. I’ll grab the door.”

You watched as Sam, Danny and Josh walked out to the back deck and threw him out onto their back yard. Josh stepped out and spit on his body for good measure, probably a little left out that he missed the long-anticipated brawl.

By the time they got back, Jake had you sitting down and was looking closely at your darkening face. You would definitely have a bruise and it made all the boys frown when you met their eyes.

You looked down shamefully, “I’m sorry I brought him here and ruined your party.” You mumbled, wringing your hands in your lap.

Josh squatted down to be eye level with you, “Y/N, don’t you dare blame yourself. He was a giant piece of shit that you should’ve gotten rid of ages ago.”

You wiped a stray tear and nodded, “Yeah, I’m done for good this time.”

Josh beamed at you. “Well that’s the best present you could’ve gotten us.” He enveloped you in one of those warm Josh hugs you valued so much, Jake nodding and smiling in agreement behind him, before pulling back with wide eyes, “Do you want a drink? Some champagne? You deserve it.”

You laughed and nodded, thanking him as he scurried back off to the kitchen where all the drinks were.

Jake and Sam checked in with you too and you made sure to thank them for defending you.

Finally, it was you and Danny sitting on the couch. You looked over at him and saw blood leaking out of his nose. You gasped.

“Oh, Danny, he hit you too!” You grabbed a nearby napkin and held it up to his nose, tilting his head back by his chin.

Danny chuckled a bit, “Y/N, really, don’t worry about it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He reached his hands up to hold the napkin by himself, hand meeting yours.

He took your hand and guided it down to his knee, still enveloped with his hand. You looked down at your hands and squeezed his lightly. “You know, he would’ve never done that for me. And I got to thinking, he would never do most of the things you do for me without a second thought.”

You looked up and met his gaze, slightly scared you were trudging onto thin ice with the direction of this conversation. You watched Danny search your eyes for a moment before responding, “I’d do anything for you, it’s what you deserve.”

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes were full of love and intention and you knew he meant every word. He continued, “And I know that asshole affected your confidence and hurt your feelings, but when you’ve taken time to heal and are ready to get back out there…” he took a deep breath and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped.

You raised your eyebrows, thinking you knew where he was going but needing to hear it. “Yes, Danny?”

With your encouragement, he continued, “… I’d really love to take you out on a date and see if we can really be something.”

You smiled brightly up at him. “Danny, I’d love nothing more.” He grinned back down at you and after a moment, started gently moving closer to you. You reciprocated leaning in for a kiss before you remembered, “Danny, your nose though.”

His eyes fluttered back open and he laughed. “Damn!” You laughed along with him, blown away by the night you’d had. He takes the hand he’s holding and presses a firm kiss onto the back of it, looking you in the eyes. “Another time.” You nodded cheerfully at him, leaning against his shoulder watching Josh approach with several champagne flutes.

That would be the last time that man got between you and Danny’s relationship.

#AWWWWW #im a danny girl today #danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner x y/n #danny wagner fluff #danny wagner imagine #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #gvf imagine

[asweetprologue]

hematoma of the heart

Octoberfest 9: Wound reveal (whumptober #30)

Hitting the tree is more surprising than painful. A strange shock goes through Jaskier’s entire body when it happens, a litany of unspoken no no no through him as his side slams into the wood and he topples to the ground. For a moment he can’t see, can barely even think, just feeling a dizzying sense of wrongness that makes his skin buzz with anxiety. 

Then, finally, the pain does come to him, bursting from his ribs. If his breath hadn’t already been crushed from his lungs, he would have wheezed at the intensity of it. He lies there for a long moment, curled into a protective ball and trying to get his chest to expand beyond the jagged feeling in his ribs. Through bleary eyes, he can see that Geralt is still fighting the fiend, twisting and rolling deftly around it. That’s good, Jaskier thinks. Gives him some time to sort this out. 

The fiend hadn’t even really been paying him any mind, which was almost more embarrassing. Jaskier had gotten in the way, a bit, though it wasn’t really anyone’s fault that the fight stumbled its way so close to his hiding spot. Normally Geralt would never allow Jaskier to tag along to a fight this dangerous, but as usual trouble found them. Geralt had picked up the smell of the fiend on the breeze, and the noble bastard hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. His stubborn bravery and selflessness is one of the many reasons Jaskier loves the man, but at this exact moment he finds himself wishing that, for once, they’d just kept out of it. 

After a long moment of lying still and trying to gather his wits, Jaskier slowly sits up. He leans his back against the offending tree and tries to stay as still as possible, not wanting to draw the fiend’s attention or break Geralt’s stride. Mentally he takes inventory. Toes and fingers wriggle when he tests them, so that’s good. No pain in his neck, though it radiates out from his left side and across his back like a sunburst. When he sticks a hand against his shirt he doesn’t feel the wet, tacky sensation of blood, so aside from a few abrasions it looks like he’s escaped with his skin intact. 

Jaskier knows his ribs are bruised, maybe even slightly broken, but overall it’s not as bad as it could be. Jaskier watches as Geralt’s sword descends into the neck of the fiend, a hot spray of blood splashing across the ground and Geralt’s face. The second the beast falls to the ground, Geralt looks up and finds Jaskier’s gaze, his own eyes wild.

Jaskier realizes two things at once. One: Geralt is going to be livid if Jaskier was hurt during a fight, and there’s a very great chance that it will make him not want to take Jaskier on hunts in the future. He’ll say that Jaskier is at risk and is a risk himself, likely to cause Geralt to get distracted and wind up with one of them dead. Never mind that Geralt often needs help after a hard fight, might not be able to make it back on his own or just needs a hand patching up the worst of his wounds. Never mind that Jaskier hates being left behind, hates sitting in a cold, empty camp or inn waiting to see if Geralt will come back this time. Never mind that Jaskier’s entire supposed reason for being here is to get first hand experience of what monster hunting is really like, even if that maybe isn’t so much the reason he’s so dedicated to the Path anymore. 

And two: Geralt will blame himself. 

Jaskier decides, in the span of a second, that he’s not going to say anything. It’s not so bad, after all. How hard could it be to keep a few bruised ribs to himself? 

In the time it takes for him to determine this course of action, Geralt is upon him. He doesn’t touch - Jaskier touches Geralt. Geralt does not touch back, unless it’s to manhandle Jaskier out of danger. Jaskier tries not to think too hard about why this is. Geralt looks at him, his eyes intense but unreadable as always, and Jaskier takes a steadying breath that makes his ribs ache. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, almost more of a grunt than a name. He’s only breathing a bit more heavily than normal, as if he’d just been on a light morning jog. “You alright?”

Jaskier nods, forcing himself to climb unsteadily to his feet. The movement is agony, his back screaming as his muscles shift and stretch. He bites his cheek, forcing himself not to gasp or wince. The pain isn’t sharp, just pulsing, which is a good sign. He thinks. “All accounted for,” he says to Geralt, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound too strained. 

With another human, Jaskier doesn’t think he’d have been able to get away with it. No one would be able to get thrown against a tree with such force and pop back up perfectly alright. But Geralt isn’t human, and over the years of traveling together, Jaskier has realized that Geralt knows fuck all about how much humans can withstand. He is both terrified of their fragility and entirely unaware of their limits. He grew up around witchers and has never stuck around any human beings long enough to figure out what really could hurt them. Jaskier thinks, sometimes, that maybe Geralt doesn’t touch him because he’s afraid Jaskier will break. But then Jaskier falls from a horse or gets punched in the jaw or stumbles over the side of a small ravine and Geralt will act surprised when Jaskier’s ankle is twisted or his face is bruised. The witcher just has no idea what will actually cause damage and what Jaskier can walk away from.

So Jaskier plasters on his most convincing court mask and gives Geralt a winning smile, and he knows he’s won when Geralt gives an almost imperceptible shrug. Jaskier watches his shoulders drop ever so slightly, his expression loosening just a fraction. Jaskier drinks up Geralt’s worry like a man drowning of thirst, but he’s still relieved when Geralt turns back towards the fiend. If Geralt knew he was really hurt, his tender concern over Jaskier’s well being would morph into guilt and anger, and that’s the last thing Jaskier wants. So he forces himself to follow after Geralt, and he doesn’t even limp. 

Jaskier does not limp as they set up camp that night, or as he follows Geralt to town the next day, or over the course of the next week on the road. It’s probably making the healing process longer than it needs to be, he knows, but he’s in too deep now to back down. And if he winces occasionally when he’s getting up in the morning, stiff and sore and aching, or if he sucks in a breath to hide a yelp when someone brushes past his wounded shoulder in an inn, Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. Jaskier changes when Geralt leaves for breakfast or to take a piss or to bathe and he thinks he does an okay job, overall, of hiding it. It hurts in another way, deep in his gut, that Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier doesn’t want him to say anything, doesn’t want him to know, but in another way he does. He really does. He wants Geralt to find out and be upset because he cares about Jaskier, cares about his well being and whether he’s in pain. He wants the full force of those golden eyes on him with total attention, those broad hands running across his flank to search for damage. Jaskier wants. 

Maybe that’s why he lets his guard down. Or maybe he’s just healing nicely, and so for a few hours Jaskier just… forgets. They’re in a tavern, stopped in a small town a week and a half away from the fiend encounter, and Jaskier is a bit drunk. He’s been playing, for the first time since he was thrown into that tree, and it felt so good he got a bit lost in it. The crowd was small but invested, lively and eager for entertainment, and Jaskier had been passed more than a couple of tankards. Geralt had watched it all unfold with mild amusement, matching Jaskier cup for cup but barely tipsy by the end of the night. Jaskier had stumbled up the stairs with Geralt close on his heels, likely making sure he didn’t tumble back down the steps. He isn’t that drunk, truly. Barely wobbling as he’d made his way into the room. But as he tugs off his boots now and tosses aside his doublet, he’s drunk enough that he forgets, for the first time in a week, that he’s got something to hide. He turns away from Geralt and unbuttons his shirt, yawning around some garbled sentence about how many ales he’s had. The fabric has barely left his shoulders when he hears Geralt make a strangled sound, and turns to find himself nose to nose with the witcher. 

“Uh,” he says, articulately, and hisses as Geralt’s fingers come up to prod his side. Oh, right. Fuck. He’d been doing so well. 

“What the fuck is this?” Geralt asks, and his voice comes out as a low, warning growl that Jaskier feels in his toes. It’s threatening, he reprimands himself. Geralt is scary when he’s mad. Not hot. Scary. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier snaps back to the moment. 

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, too quickly. He’s trying to pull his shirt back up to cover up the canvas of blue-purple-yellow that’s scattered across his ribs and shoulder, but Geralt’s hands are in the way. He must be truly surprised, to break his own rules about personal space like this. “I fell, it looks worse than it is. Nothing to be concerned about, truly, I don’t even think my ribs took too much damage -”

“When?” Geralt says. His tone and his hands are demanding, pulling Jaskier’s arm up away from his body so Geralt can get a closer look. Jaskier feels himself flush under his touch, and he’s annoyed at himself for it. 

“Uh, a - a week ago? Around then? It’s been a few days.”

Geralt looks away from the bruises, his eyebrows pinched together. His golden eyes are intense, searching Jaskier’s face for a lie. There’s a moment of quiet between them, Geralt thinking with his hand spread across Jaskier’s ribs, and then his face softens with surprise. “The fiend hunt,” he says, and then his face shutters into that expression, furious and guilty, that Jaskier was trying to avoid this whole damn time. 

“I was fine,” he tries to say, but Geralt is already growling at him. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Jaskier?” he snaps. Gentle-rough hands push Jaskier down onto the one bed in the room. They’d decided to share, to save money. Always to save money. Geralt starts pacing, not an aimless trek but a journey around the room, pulling various supplies out of their scattered bags. “You could have died. What if your lung had been punctured? Or your kidney ruptured?” A jar and a roll of bandages are thrown down by Jaskier’s side, and the bard winces at the sharp movement. Geralt stops in front of him, fists clenched at his side, glaring down at Jaskier’s face. Accusation in every line of his body. 

Jaskier sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, not bothering to hide the wince as it pulls at his side. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says, and his voice is smaller than he’d like it to be. He didn’t do anything wrong, really. Geralt isn’t entitled to know of Jaskier’s every scrape and bruise. Yet Jaskier feels guilty regardless. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The fiend was there, so was I, I ended up fine! I’ll be better in another week or less.”

Geralt looks away, jaw clenching as he studies the far side of the room with intense scrutiny. Without looking back, he says, “You should have told me.” 

Before Jaskier can respond, Geralt turns and gathers up the supplies on the bed and sits down beside him. The lid of the jar pops off, releasing a cool, minty smell into the air. “Lift your arm up,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier does. He can only go up so far without pain, so he rests his forearm on Geralt’s shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s bare from the waist up and Geralt is still fully dressed. It makes him feel off balance and short of breath, for some reason. A moment later Geralt’s fingers are smoothing lightly over his ribs, rubbing whatever salve was in the jar across Jaskier’s bruises. The gentle touch steals the rest of the air from Jaskier’s lungs.

Jaskier lets Geralt work on him in silence, the minutes stretching out silently between them. He’s not sure what to say - how to tell Geralt that he didn’t want him to be mad without sounding like a child, how to make Geralt feel less guilty without being patronizing. Jaskier never quite knows how to manage Geralt’s emotions, not like he does everyone else’s. A crowd, a pretty barmaid, a professor at Oxenfurt, all of these are easy to push and pull where he pleases. Easy to predict. Geralt… isn’t. He digs in his heels when Jaskier tries to lead him, closes himself off when Jaskier tries to get a peak under the mask. Geralt is, Jaskier thinks, perhaps one of the most complicated people Jaskier’s ever met. He knows that’s part of the draw. But it’s frustrating in moments like these, when Jaskier wants so badly to say just the right thing to make Geralt’s shoulders relax, to make the deep frown marring his lovely mouth loosen into a smile. He thinks he could figure it out, given enough time. If Geralt will let him. 

When Geralt finally moves to face away from him, to attend to his back, Jaskier speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he forces his voice to be steady and firm. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to feel bad for not - That is, I don’t blame you. And I didn’t want to slow you down.”

Geralt's hands still on his back, his warm palm burning where it rests on Jaskier’s shoulder blade. It’s so hot in the room, sweat prickling against Jaskier’s brow, and Geralt’s hand doesn’t move. “I don’t care if you slow me down,” Geralt grunts. Jaskier can feel his breath on the nape of his neck, and he can’t suppress a shiver. Geralt must notice, but he doesn’t comment. 

“You very much do,” Jaskier argues, irritated. “You remind me on a near nightly basis that if I’m not up when the sun is you’ll leave me behind. I don’t even bother to ask for a break anymore because you never fail to remind me that it’s my choice to be here. And it is, I know that. I’ll keep up, and if I can’t I’ll take my leave. You’ve made it quite clear that the onus of responsibility rests with me, and I accept that.”

From this close Jaskier can nearly hear Geralt grinding his teeth together. “Not at the expense of your health,” he says, and he sounds properly angry now. “Fuck, Jaskier, you can’t think I’d - That I wouldn’t wait, that I’d leave you behind when you were hurt. You could have fucking died, if it’d been more serious. You couldn’t have known that it wasn’t, right away. What if I’d woken up the next day and you’d choked to death on your own blood in your sleep? What if you’d -” He cuts himself off.

Now Jaskier turns to face him, shocked by the display of emotion, feeling Geralt’s hand shift across his back. Geralt looks away from him, hiding, but the expression that Jaskier catches on his face is… pained. As if it would truly hurt him, to see Jaskier damaged beyond repair. Hesitantly, Jaskier reaches out and touches Geralt’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want you to take it personally.”

Geralt’s eyes meet his again, smouldering in the low light. Jaskier suddenly remembers that he’s a bit drunk, and they’re so, so close together. The space between them is warm, and Geralt’s hand slowly slides down his back to rest at Jaskier’s hip. “I always take it personally when it comes to you,” Geralt says. Jaskier breathes out shakily. Geralt reaches out with his other hand and gently grasps Jaskier’s elbow, making Jaskier’s fingers press more firmly into his knee. “Tell me next time,” Geralt says. And then, “Please.”

Jaskier is powerless to refuse him anything in this moment, so he says, “Alright. I will. Just don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t,” Geralt says softly. “I won’t. I promise.” Something tense releases in Jaskier, because Geralt is not frivolous with his words and a promise means something coming from him. He won’t leave Jaskier behind. 

“Well good,” Jaskier says, and smiles easily at him. His side feels better now with the salve and the fuzzy layer of alcohol in his system, and every part of him touching Geralt is tingling pleasantly. It’s a lot of parts, he realizes giddily. He’s nearly in Geralt’s lap, held close by Geralt’s hands in something that’s nearly an embrace, and Geralt’s lips are right there. All Jaskier would have to do is lean forward just a smidge, press them together gently, soft as a feather -

Geralt’s eyes flicker to his mouth, and Jaskier flushes hot all over. Gods. Just a look and he feels undone. 

But before he can do anything, Geralt is up and halfway across the room, tucking the jar away like nothing had happened. Jaskier lets out a breath that’s equal parts disappointment and relief. A moment later Geralt is back at his side, holding the roll of bandages. 

“This will keep you from pulling them while they heal,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier obediently raises his arms up as much as he can. Geralt wraps up his ribs efficiently, and it does feel a little more stable. It will help him sleep, at the very least. Just before he wraps the light gauze around Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt leans in and drags in a deep breath. 

Jaskier splutters. “Are you sniffing me, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt huffs out an amused breath against his skin. “Checking for infection. You don’t smell sweet, so you’re probably alright.”

“I smell plenty sweet,” Jaskier gripes. Geralt finishes the bandages, tying them off neatly. Jaskier feels compressed, a bit, but it’s for the best. 

“You smell like ale,” Geralt says with a raised eyebrow. “And the salve. And that lavender soap I hate.”

“You only hate it the first day I use it,” Jaskier points out. The smell is too strong for Geralt to abide by. Jaskier tries not to use it unless they’ll be apart for a day or so. He’d bathed with it the day after the hunt, hoping that the intensity of it would mask anything else Geralt might scent on him. Pain, or distress. Geralt had supported a pinched look of annoyance for a full half a day.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and it sounds annoyed and fond at the same time in equal measure, which Jaskier wouldn’t have said was possible before he met Geralt. The most complicated man he’d ever met. “You need to rest.”

“Up at dawn?” Jaskier guesses, shucking off his pants and settling under the covers. Geralt removes his own boots and pants and crawls in on the other side, settled between Jaskier and the door. Jaskier’s not sure if it’s to protect him or to keep him from running off. As if he ever would. 

“We’ll leave when you're ready,” Geralt says, snuffing out the candle flickering on the bedside dresser. In the darkness, Jaskier hears, “I’ll wait for you.”

For once Jaskier has nothing else to say to that, so he settled down into the covers and plans to sleep past noon.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #whump #no. 30 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #october2020 #my work #fic #writing

[emmies-archives]

-Public | Hinata Shoyo- 

fem!reader x sub-timeskip!hinata shoyo 

Warnings: Nsfw, degradation, public sex, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, punishment, dacryphilia, edging, getting caught, shower sex, implied threesome, 

Summary: Your supposed to pick Hinata up from practice, except he’s made you wait over an hour, and he’s ignored your texts.

WC: 1.7k

A/N: ig im just fuckin thirsty as hell today... also this is unedited bc im lazy, once again, pls ignore typos. 

-Hinata Shoyo-

Light shone into the car with each person that drove by as they left the parking lot you had been sitting in for nearly an hour now. Practice had ended over an hour ago, yet Hinata hadn’t come out of the gym yet.

It was normal for him to run late, but this was getting out of hand. He hadn’t even sent a single text to let you know what was going on.

Reading the last one you sent asking when he was coming out, a sigh left your lips when you noticed. He’d left you on read.

A part of you wanted to leave him at the gym, for him to find his own way back to your shared apartment; but you couldn’t. As badly as he deserved it, you had other plans for him.

This wasn’t the first time Hinata had done this either, sometimes he’d get so caught up in whatever he was doing he’d forget to even check his phone, let alone look at the time. You wanted to cut him some slack, but you had warned him once before.

Glancing at the doors once more, you took a slow breath in. Waiting for him to come out for one more minute. When there was no sign of him still, you turned the car off, heading towards the gym.

Hunting down your boyfriend was the last thing that you wanted to do, you were exhausted already. Your entire day had been draining, and you only wanted to go home and relax. But there you were, pushing the doors open, only to find the gym empty.

“Hello?”

Your voice bounced off the walls, echoing back to you loudly. Looking around, there was nothing showing anyone was still there, except for Hinata’s bag sitting alone across the room.

Just as you were crossing the gym toward the bag he slipped through a door, eyes wide when he noticed you. It took you a second to process that he was in front of you now, you weren’t exactly sure what to say, but you weren’t happy, and he could tell.

“Shoyo.” You narrowed your eyes slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. The simple movement made him drop his eyes as if he were trying to hide from your intense glare.

“Hi, y/n.” His voice was quiet, much quieter than his normal self. Shifting his weight as he spoke, eyes fixed on his bag.

You didn’t say anything else for a moment, not sure if you should even talk. You couldn’t tell if you were more upset at the fact he knew what he did or not. It was one thing to simply forget to send a message, but him purposefully ignoring your texts pissed you off.

“Are you, um.. are you okay?” He asked, slowly looking you in the eyes, a small look of concern sitting on features.

“I think I should be asking you that, Sho.” Tilting your head slightly, you stared at him waiting for him to explain why he took so long.

“I’m okay. I was just about to come meet you.”

That answer made your blood hot, you could barely hold back what you wanted to say in response. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried calming yourself, even if was only a little.

“Oh, so you did know I was here.” You spoke lowly, holding him in your stare once more. He stiffened when you started walking toward him, eyes wide as your gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him to look up at you.

“Are you mad-“

“Don’t pretend to be innocent, Sho. I know you read my text I sent nearly an hour ago.” Your lips pulled back into a sneer when he dropped his eyes from yours once more. Letting go of his shirt you took a step back, reading the label on the door from where he came, it was the showers.

Stepping around him he didn’t take his eyes off the floor as you walked to the door and pulled it open.

“Remember what I said last time you did this?” You didn’t even have to say anything else as you stepped into the hallway, he followed behind you quietly. You knew he remembered, but he probably wouldn’t answer on his own.

Hinata usually got quiet when you were upset, not wanting to make anything worse. He really did try to be good; it was just sometimes he got a little distracted.

“I hope none of your teammates are here, Sho, or they’re going to hear you whining like a little bitch soon.” Your voice dripped with the anger you felt, but it was steady, scarily calm.

Once you were in the showers, you spun on your heels slowly. In an instant his back was pressed against the cold tile, a small shiver running down his back as your hot breath fanned over his lips.

He didn’t want to look at you, but for some reason he couldn’t tear his eyes from yours. Even as you swiftly pushed down his gym shorts, a venom-soaked saccharine smile pulling at your lips.

He wasn’t sure what to do, or where to put his hands. Was he allowed to touch you? He probably didn’t deserve it, but he wanted to. Especially as your fingers wrapped around his slowly hardening length.

If the look in your eyes wasn’t on the forefront of his thoughts, he would’ve felt the burn of his cheeks at your touch, and gaze.

“You’re already pretty hard, Sho. What were you thinking about that got you so worked up?” You asked sweetly, the tone of your voice harshly contrasting your actions as you gripped his jaw, pulling him closer to your face. “Answer me.”

“Um, I don’t know, you’re just so… I can’t explain it.”

You nearly laughed at his answer, it was almost pathetic how he couldn’t resist you when he disobeyed you. It was like he did it on purpose, just so he could have you like this.

“You don’t know.. well if that’s the case, why don’t you get yourself off, hm? A little slut like you doesn’t even deserve me to touch them. Not after you made me wait as long as I did.” You leaned closer to him, your hand tightening on his neck as you did. Letting your grip on his cock go, raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to listen to you.

Slowly, after shutting his eyes for a moment, he gripped himself. Stroking his cock loosely, the blush deepening on his cheeks as he did. He hated this, he knew he didn’t deserve it but he wanted it to be your hand, desperately wanted to feel your touch again. He listened though, saying anything back to you would only make it worse.

“Awe, look how cute you are. Is it embarrassing touching yourself in front of me?” He whined softly when you pushed closer to him, barely brushing against his length as he sped up his hand. Trying to mimic your expert movements, how you seemed to always make him melt as you touched him.

It was nothing like how you did it though, nothing close to the pleasure he felt when your pretty fingers were wrapped around his aching cock, pumping him just right. His eyes fluttered shut, not being able to look into yours anymore.

“No, no shutting your eyes. I want you to see me watch you pathetically touch yourself, I thought you could do it better, or am I the only one who can make you feel good like that, hm?” You pulled away from him when he opened his eyes again, watching as he changed his pace slowing down once more. Trying to find something that felt similar to what he was searching for.

Tears of frustration were starting to prick his eyes mixing with the embarrassment pooling in his chest. You weren’t surprised when they spilled over, slipping down his cheeks. The satisfied grin on your face only pushing his embarrassed crying further, needy whines slipping from his throat, but he kept stroking himself. Eyes screwing shut once more as he tried to stop the tears from coming.

You were about to say something else, maybe let him stop when you were interrupted. The loud creaking of the door opening sounded once more, followed by loud heavy footsteps.

Hinata’s eyes flew open, and he looked to you with wide eyes, you only smiled and moved closer to him, enough to shield him if needed.

“Hinata! You in here?” A loud voice called out, and you recognized it almost immediately. Not even giving him a chance to respond, Bokuto stepped around the corner. You moved away from Hinata again, giving Bokuto a clear view of him.

“Hey, Bo.” You smiled at the larger man as if there was nothing going on, his wide eyes flicked between you and Hinata several times, trying hard to not look at the redhead’s hand.

“Y/n, what are you doing in here?” Bokuto’s voice was quiet, nearly a whisper when he asked it.

“Teaching Hinata a lesson. You wouldn’t happen to know why he was here so late, would you?” You asked slowly, raising an eyebrow when Bokuto shook his head rapidly, you definitely didn’t believe him. Especially with the blush that spread across his cheeks. “Hm, well you’re free to stay if you want. I’m sure Hinata wouldn’t mind, would you baby?”

Hinata let out a shaky breath, like he had been holding it in since Bokuto arrived. Forcing himself to look at the tall man, barely meeting his eyes. Shaking his head, he didn’t quite trust his voice yet, not with the obvious tent growing in Bokuto’s shorts.

Seeing Hinata with his head tilted against the tile, tears spilling down his cheeks as he gripped his cock, it was something he thought he’d never see. Bokuto could hardly look at you now, there was an edge in the tone of your voice he’d never heard before, it scared him slightly.

Raking your eyes down Hinata’s form, you shook your head slightly, catching his attention once more.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, Shoyo. Show Bokuto just how much of a slut you are, and maybe I’ll think about touching you myself, okay?”

tags: @bummie @beelziee @bunny-xoxo​ @ultimate-astridwriting

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! #shoyo hinata #hinata smut #haikyuu thirsts #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo imagine #Kotaro bokuto #bokuto smut #haikyuu bokuto #Ems-thirsting #haikyuu #[ 🎞 ] — anihaven

[romioneficfest]

Mine

Title: Mine Prompt/Day: Day 5 - Baby Rose or Hugo does not sleep Tumblr name:  Rating: G Brief summary: A newborn Hugo refuses to sleep. Can Rose be the answer to the young parents finally getting some sleep? Any possible triggering/warning tags: None.

Ever since the day she was born, Rose Weasley-Granger was a blessing to her young parents. Quiet, undemanding and easy to please, life was bloody brilliant with her around, or so her Dad thought.

As she grew, Rose showed great curiosity about the world around her. Even as a toddler, she absorbed every book and every story. When she came across bridges, cranes, or muggle vehicles — she always asked how or why.

Ron was more than happy to indulge her, taking her out for walks, and trips to the museums, places his wife teased him about as he’d always claimed he hated them before Rosie. And when Hermione discovered that she was pregnant again, he braced himself for the incoming questions the now three-year-old might have.

But none came.

Rose accepted that her baby brother was growing inside her mother, her curiosity replaced by the excitement of finally getting a sibling, just like the rest of her cousins. And that was that.

As Hermione’s stomach began to grow, Rose was obsessed and developed an instant love for the life inside. During family cuddles, Ron would often find himself elbowed out of the way so that Rose could get access to the baby bump.

“My baby,” Rose would say to anyone who would listen, splaying her hands across her mother’s belly and giggling as it rewarded her with a kick in response. “My baby. In there.”

⁂

As soon as Ron and Hermione brought Hugo home from St. Mungo’s, Rose claimed him as her own.

But Hugo was unlike his sister.

Restless from his first day in the world, the baby refused to settle, and the parents soon found themselves struggling to sleep or cope with two small people with very different demands to look after.

Ron found himself calling on his mother more than ever, pleading with her to take Rose, something he and Hermione agreed never to do.

Bereft every time they parted the siblings, sending Rose away came with its own problems. She would kick and scream as they forced her into the Floo network, tears marking her face and a look that told her Dad she’d never forgive him for this.

⁂

“I don’t know what to do,” Hermione fretted on their fifth morning with baby Hugo. It had been another night of not sleeping. She bounced him in her arms; his face bawled up. He wanted to be latched to her all the time, yet he rarely fed, meaning she was not getting a break.

Ron looked on desperately. They were out of their depth. Noticing that Hermione was about to give up completely, he held his arms out.

“Let me take him, love. I know I don’t have boobs, but he’ll just have to cope for a bit. You’re so frazzled. Why don’t you go and get a shower, and I’ll try and calm him down. Then when you’re ready, we can try feeding the terror again.”

“Okay,” Hermione whimpered, her entire body sagging against the pressure of not being able to calm her baby.

Taking the bundle of blankets from his weeping wife, Ron pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pushed her towards the bathroom. As soon as she was gone, he started to pace the bedroom floor, following in Hermione’s footsteps. With a million nieces and nephews, Ron had an arsenal of tools to try and help soothe his son, and he was willing to try them all. Hugo must be exhausted with all this crying; maybe he just needed a decent amount of kip.

The roar of the Floo activating distracted Ron from his mission, and he shifted the aggravated baby into one arm before heading down to greet their visitors. He arrived in the living room just in time to see his mum and daughter tumble from the green flames.

“Daddy!” A bundle of bouncy red curls threw herself at his legs, almost knocking him off balance. Her grip was vice-like but comforting. At least one of his children liked him, despite her regular protests at him ‘sending her away’.

“Hugo still not settling down, love?” His mother clucked, peering at the red ball of anger in Ron’s arms.

“Nah, I reckon he’s pissed off that we took him away from Hermione’s womb. He was so comfy in there, getting fat and sleeping. He’s just trying to punish us for it.”

Scooping up her granddaughter, Molly settled on the sofa. “Well, he was over two weeks late; it was about time he came out. Not like his sister, hey Rosie? Perfectly on time and lovely ever since, weren’t you? Where’s Hermione?”

“I’m letting her take a shower. She’s probably trying to drown herself in there, just for a breather.”

“Want me to take Hugo for a bit?” Molly glanced up, a hopeful look on her face. It didn’t matter how many grandchildren the Weasley’s popped out; each and every one was special and exciting.

“Su—” he started, eager for a break from the annoyed newborn, but he was rudely interrupted by his daughter.

“No. Mine.” Rosie’s arms were up in the air, demanding a cuddle from her brother.

“Oh, I don’t know, Rose.” Ron frowned. “Your brother still isn’t a happy bunny, and he’s very noisy. Why don’t you help Nanny cuddle him instead?”

“No, Daddy. My baby.”

Ron was surprised that Rosie hadn’t used accidental magic to summon her brother to her. The adamant look on his daughter’s face, with furrowed brows and curls that crackled with electricity, reminded him of Hermione, and he chuckled. He knew his daughter wouldn’t give up until she got what she wanted.

Glancing at his mum, Ron shrugged and, with her help, placed the baby into Rosie’s arms.

“Aww baby,” Rose cooed, the hand not supporting the baby’s head reaching across to stroke Hugo’s cheek. “My baby. Poor ‘oo-go.”

To Ron’s amazement, the baby calmed down almost instantly. Two bright but unfocused eyes searched the room for the source of his comfort. Something must have assured him that it was close by because Hugo closed his eyes and finally settled down to sleep.

A clammer on the stairs broke the silence, and Hermione burst into the room, a towel wrapped around her body and hair, her eyes wild with fear.

“He stopped crying — what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Rose sorted him out,” Ron stated before collapsing into the armchair and closing his eyes. “Now shhhhhh before you wake the beast up.”

Forcing his eyes open, his heart almost stopped as Rose continued to coo over the baby. He thought he couldn’t love anyone as much as he loved Hermione until these two tiny people were thrust into his life. He just wished they would always be this quiet.

The silence wouldn’t last long. Rosie’s arms were small, so she wouldn’t be able to support Hugo for the rest of the day. And he guessed it wasn’t ethical to allow their three-year-old to look after her brother forever. As parents, they’d need to step in eventually.

Sensing his thoughts, Molly smiled over at him. “Time for your shower, I think, Ronnie. And then maybe the two of you can take advantage of the quiet to have a nap. Rosie and I have things under control. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Nanny. Mummy, Daddy. Go!” Rosie beamed up at her grandmother.

“You heard her. Off you go.”

Shaking his head and marveling at the way his daughter already had him under her thumb, Ron got to his feet. He was desperate for a shower and a decent sleep. Placing a hand on the small of his wife’s back, he steered her towards the stairs.

“You heard the child. It’s time for us to have a break."

#hpfic #Romione FicFest 2021 #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Rose Weasley-Granger #Molly Weasley #Hugo Granger-Weasley #Rated G #Ace Safe #No Content Warning #Queue up for the Dragon