#if a man is sad and petty he might as well be turning his back and fleeing from me in my hunting territory during winter
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Inevitable Things: chapter five
Aizawa x reader fic
cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)
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Fridays are the only day you carve out time for lunch. Less than coincidentally, Fridays are also the only day lunch is catered.
“Here-” Izuku jams his bowl of take out into Katsuki’s face. “Does it smell like there’s peanuts in here?”
Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku’s fiance, is only half as ornery as he looks. A premature wrinkle has formed in between his brows, a sign of his almost constant annoyance. His straw colored hair is a sharp contrast to his deep red eyes, currently narrowed in disgust.
“Get this shit out of my fucking face,” he groans. “I’m not a fucking allergy alert dog-- I can’t smell peanuts.”
“To be fair-” Ochako interjects through a mouthful. She’s the opposite of Katsuki: dark hair, round eyes, a smile so sweet that it makes your teeth hurt. Her cheeks are always flushed, spots of broken blood vessels spattered like freckles. “Peanuts do have a smell.”
“Did you ask him to smell for penis?” Denki says, too loud to be genuine. “Kind of homophobic to ask a gay guy that.”
Both men give him identical deadpan stares.
“That’s just his fucking country-ass accent.” Katsuki brushes Denki off and turns back to the curly haired man. “Why would chicken have peanuts in it anyway?”
“The o’l.” Izuku stresses.
“The what?”
“Some places use peanut o’l.”
“Say oil.”
Izuku sneers a bit in return, smoothing out the curves of his accent. “Oy-I’ll.”
“Jesus christ, I’m marrying a hick.” Katsuki leans back in his chair and meets your eye with a jerk of his chin. “Can you believe this?”
You snap back into focus. Your own lunch is untouched, fork still in its little plastic wrapper. Hunger nips at your stomach, but nausea wins over today. The cafeteria isn’t very busy, but in the next couple minutes everyone will start pouring in. The lot of you arrived early to get the best seating-- a little couch and coffee table in the corner, a perfect place to eat and people watch.
“Oh, yeah, uh- Izuku, they have an allergen free option.”
“Well, yeah, but-” He tilts his head as he talks, watching you with those wide, green eyes, like he sees something just below the surface. “It doesn't have chicken-- are you good?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Katsuki fingers a piece of Izuku’s food and pops it into his mouth, much to the man’s dismay. “You’ve been making that sad little face all day.”
You pout a bit harder at that. Shit-- you thought you were being subtle. You haven’t been able to walk this whole Aizawa thing off yet, despite all of your attempts. No amount of emails, meetings, and other petty office bullshit managed to distract you from the absolute shock and humiliation of… whatever that was.
Embarrassment.
Embarrassment? You’re certainly not the prettiest girl in the office, but embarrassing? That makes your gums ache, like a punch to the nose, and it makes you feel dirty, like the fall to the ground afterwards.
“You’re doing it again.” Ochako points to your face and it’s apparently sadness. “What’s going on?”
You hem a bit, before condensing it the best you can.
“I’m having issues with a guy.” What an understatement.
A collective glance is shared between the group.
“Touya again?”
Again, Touya haunts a room he’s never been in. You debate what to say. If you admit to it being someone new, they might start sniffing around and jump to conclusions-- though Aizawa would certainly be the last assumption they would make, you still can’t risk it. Besides, you don’t need a gaggle of 23 year olds dissecting your every move. They’re going to jump to some stupid conclusion, like you’re dating Toshinori, if you aren’t careful.
“Yeah, it’s Touya,” you lie, as sheepishly as you can. “Oops.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard that you imagine his brain must hurt. “Again?”
“Shh, just tell us what happened,” Izuku urges, elbowing his partner rather sharply.
“I don't know where I stand with him. It's so-- Ugh, I thought things were going to start going well and then it was just ice cold.” You press your palms into your eyes and sigh. The pressure feels good and helps with the remnants of your hangover. You need an electrolyte drink, stat. Maybe another fucking drink too. “And I’m not even sure why I’m surprised because it’s ice cold a lot.”
When you look up, Ochako is offering a hand, palm up and open. When you take it, she giggles a bit, squeezing gently.
“I think you need to prioritize yourself.”
Denki nods in agreement, cheeks stuffed with food. He’s finished his meal and started stabbing bits of yours. You just push the whole bowl towards him in defeat and slump down into the couch.
“Stop giving men who treat you poorly the time of day.” Ochako says. “When you let them in again and again, you’re basically, like, giving them permission to do this stuff.”
“Yeah!” Denki says through a mouthful. “Cut that fucker off! Don’t even talk to him!”
“Oh, I dunno--” You glance between them. “I think that’d be mean.”
Conflict makes your head spin. It’s so much easier to roll over and take whatever people give you, negative or otherwise. It’s what made your relationship with Touya work-- and it’s what’s allowed you to stay in this job for so long.
“Good!” Denki says. “He deserves it.”
“You deserve to be a little mean and a little angry when people treat you poorly.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Grow some balls. Stand up for yourself.”
“Yeah! Balls!” Denki agrees.
You suck on your bottom lip and turn the idea over in your head. Are you even angry at Aizawa? Or just hurt and confused? Right now, those things may as well be the same thing-- they certainly burn the same in your chest. Cruelty isn’t your usual indulgence…
But it’s someone else’s.
“What do you think?” You turn to Katsuki, who’s been scrolling through twitter for a bit now. His face doesn’t change when he speaks, locked into a general annoyance.
“I think you should kill that fucker.”
You turn to Izuku, the rational one of the couple. He shrugs, straw in mouth and completely unamused.
“Oh, I also think you should kill him,” he says, tone matching Katsuki’s.
Not helpful.
“Listen--” Katsuki leans forward, elbows on his spread knees. He uses a fork to articulate as he speaks. “I’m the expert on being a cunt-”
“-we don’t use that word!” Ochako grimaces.
“And it’s the most freeing and addictive thing you can be.” The tongs of the fork point directly towards you, as sharp as his gaze. “More people should be cunts more often. The world would be a happier place.”
Ochako gasps. “I don’t agree with that at all!”
“Oh please, miss goody-goody,” Katsuki sneers. “You wouldn't need to go to kickboxing five times a week if you let your anger out day to day like a normal motherfucker.”
The girl of the group puffs out her cheeks, but does not argue back. Izuku pats her shoulder affectionately. His food is still untouched, but his free hand guards it from Denki.
“I'm telling you. Try it out. You’ll like it.” Katsuki leans back into his seat. “Or don't. Your life.”
“Question-” The other blonde pipes up. “Did you, like, do something?”
“Kaminari!”
“I mean, like, was there a catalyst?” “A fight or a date or-?”
You know exactly what drives Touya away everytime, but Aizawa is a new beast. Did you breathe wrong or--
“Oh, I uh,” A realization hits you. “I ignored a couple texts, I guess.”
Suddenly, you’re very aware of the outline of your phone and how it presses into your pocket. If there wasn’t a chance of you flashing the group pictures of their boss, you’d check it immediately, but you can’t mentally handle the risk.
“What an overreaction,” Ochako sighs. “Dump him forever and move on-- Mr. Hizashi and his wife-”
“We aren’t like that.” Ugh. You love Hizashi, but the trio relationship isn’t your speed. “Besides, I don’t like blondes.”
The two toe-heads of the group roll their eyes in a practiced synchrony. Ochako’s smile changes a little bit, something tighter and brighter; is she excited that you aren’t interested? Interesting and a bit gross: she’s too young for that. They’re more than ten years older than her-
(How old is Aizawa? He went to school with Hizashi, so he’s at least 38-- but you could have sworn there were whispers of his fortieth last year. You’ll have to snoop.)
“We’re in agreement. Be a cunt, move on. The end.” Katsuki turns away from you, done with this topic. “Izuku, just fucking eat it already.”
The boy takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his curly hair. “Well, alright, but if I get hives, you’re the one who has to deal with me.”
…
Be mean.
You’re written it on a sticky note and placed it under your computer monitor, like some sort of fucked up mantra. The mere idea of it feels antithetical to who you are at your core; you enjoy helping people, you love making the world better. That’s why you work like a dog for the company-- you know it’s improving the lives of its customers. If Toshinori wasn’t sick, you know he’d be doing even more too.
On the other hand, being nice has led to your own detriment many times. Touya has hurt you, your parents, and now even Aizawa. And you can’t even blame Aizawa, can you? Texting him was your mistake--
You rest your forehead against your desk. There’s still a sticky spot from when you spilled your coffee yesterday. God, yesterday feels so close and yet so far away. How does a man yoyo between yelling at you, sending you his weiner, then telling you that you’re embarrassing? The idea of ‘always wanted you’ goes flying out the window.
Just as you try and put yourself to work, you hear it. The familiar lopsided stomp. Fuck, it’s him, probably looking for his afternoon coffee. He’s been by much less than usual, a fact you’re very grateful for, so you haven’t even thought about the pot since before lunch. You glance over and see it’s empty. Crap.
As you start to get up, the sticky note catches your eye again. Be mean. That’s right. Why are you popping out of your chair for this, this, this--- total fucking cunt? Your chair squeaks with the force you sit down with. You try to embody Katsuki with your face - furrowing your brow and yet keeping your mouth unaffected-- and your worst nightmare turns the corner.
You keep typing and hope Aizawa doesn't notice that it's the same words over and over again, hit in the same rhythm. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. He waits a long moment, then clears his throat louder. You don't gift him your attention until he grumbles something under his breath, shifting his weight on to his other leg. Just as he begins to say something, you interject.
“I had more important things to focus on,” you lie. “You can figure out how to brew coffee, Mr.// Engineer.”
You throw in that last bit without thinking, but the bite rolls so easily off of your tongue. It’s nothing like your usual tone, but it feels so, so right. From the corner of your vision you can see his literally reel back, blinking hard,
“That’s how it’s going to be?”
You don’t respond. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. Your fingers shake from the adrenaline boost. Ochako was right; don't even give this man the time of day.
“It's going to be like that?” He yanks the pot from its stand. “Fine.”
You have to muster all of willpower not to grin as he starts slamming open the drawers and scrounging around for supplies. It takes a whole ten minutes before he presses brew, then another five before the pot is almost half full. The whole time he grumbles to himself, leaning his whole weight against the flimsy table.
This is good. Too good. The vindictive rush of power feels almost sexual in the way it satisfies. Teeth dig into your lip as you hold back a smile even harder.
Embarrassment? You'll show him what embarrassment really means.
Finally, he pours himself a cup. He doesn't fill his thermos nearly as much as he normally does, most likely trying to leave as quickly as possible. Just as he starts to turn, you get up out of your chair and walk over. You take one of the little disposable cups from the stack and take your time adding three sugars and two cream, each one at a time, as he lurks there. Then, you pour the coffee, thick and oddly gritty into your cup. You finally meet his eye when you take a swig.
Aizawa’s face is set hard, small eyes narrowed even tighter. His lips are screwed up with annoyance, wrinkling his low bridged nose. Pissed would be an understatement. Just as you brace for another yelling match, he turns away, marching down the hall.
“Enjoy the fucking coffee.”
Oh, Katsuki was right. Being mean tastes good.
….This coffee, however, does not.
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lesbians enjoy pathetic male characters because we have an instinctive prey drive
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Imagine your husband having what he lovingly calls his 'kiss-o-meter'. An inbuilt measuring system engraved in his mind ever since your wedding day, or so he told. He stresses to you how important it is to have his 'kiss-o-meter' at 100% before he goes to work, unless you want a despaired husband and an unenthusiastic worker as he would put it.
So imagine his surprise when you rush right through your morning routine, not even sparing him a glance. Only acknowledging him when you're about to leave, giving a mere hug before walking right through that door, not a speck of remorse in your step. He couldn't believe it, you just gave him a hug.
A hug.
Just a hug.
This is it, you don't love him anymore. You forgot about the most important part of his day, his morning, and his life. Not to mention he still has work and he doesn't think he can do it. But he has to, for living expenses and for you, even if he was deeply wounded by your international crime. Off to work he goes, meter at a sad 0.2%.
It isn't long into your workday when you receive a rather ominous? phone call from one of your husband's coworkers. It isn't directly ominous, just that no one from your husband's work ever called you unless it was an emergency. Though emergency might be a stretch since most of those calls consisted of people asking for your presence. Why? well, your husband isn't the most subtle of men even if he tries to be. This time is no different, one word in and you already know they want you to do something about it.
"Please—"
"Say no more, I know you want me to come and get him. What's going on with him this time?"
"No idea, he's just been looking real depressed ever since he's got here. So please hurry [Y/N], I don't know how we're going to handle an incapacitated man by ourselves"
"On my way so hang in there"
And with that, you finish up all your leftover papers and submitted them to your boss before going on your merry way. Well, merry makes it sound like a peaceful drive when in reality, you're teetering on the edge of breaking the speed limit. Is the situation ~that~ urgent? Not really.... But it would be great if your husband could get back to work as soon as possible. Someone has got to pay the bills and you're not going to start doing it alone.
Arriving at his workplace, you push the door open to reveal your husband in all his miserable glory. Your outburst caused quite the scene, everyone stopping what they were doing to give you a surprised look before quickly returning to the task at hand. However, your husband immediately looked away with a pout once he got over the initial surprise. A weird expression since you haven't done anything to upset him today right? Definitely not, you still remembered to give him a goodbye hug before you left so things should be ok..... right?
Right?
Foolish of you to think so. But back to the problem at hand, your husband is not looking at you nor is he acknowledging you anymore. Except for his 'subtle' glances at you, those are inevitable even if you fight. So you decide to confront him head on because you need to know why he's acting so petty before he ends up skipping the entirety of work.
"Mind telling me what you're so upset about?" You muse, approaching your beloved husband.
"...Hmph"
This is not going to be easy, you can tell. If he's willing to ignore you for this, it has to be something very important to him. Conflicted by this sudden realization, you quickly turn to your husband's co workers. Only to find them nodding and already ushering the both of you out.
"Sorry for taking him, this is more serious than I thought..."
"Don't mention it, we would've sent him back home if he kept this up anyway so it's all good"
With those reassuring parting words, you affectionately shove your lover into the passenger seat and drive the both of you home.
Rushing through the door to your apartment, immediately setting everything down before standing in front of your other half sitting on the sofa. Still pouting and avoiding your stare, he's surprisingly dedicated to his angry husband act. Your lips curve into a coy smile at his antics, the things you do for him are always going to be far beyond your understanding but if it means a lot to him then you don't mind playing along. A confident stance and dressed for comfort, time to find out what exactly is upsetting your husband.
It's hard trying to deny any of your advances, your husband knows that as much as you do. He's trying to look away, he really is, but the way you call his name with the face of a kicked puppy in the rain makes his resolve crack just a little bit. Actually scratch that, his resolve is about the radius of a single spider web. But you can't blame him, cause everyone and their dog know that one look from you is enough to get the man on his knees, wallet in hand already taking his card out.
To your undying amusement, he cracks immediately. Face retreating into his collar with a red hue, turned away from you, he finally tells you what was bothering him.
"Yo...di.........is...me...is...ning..."
"What? Say that again, I can't hear you"
"You...didn't kiss me this morning...."
Oh.
O H.
So that's why, he's acting like this so you would maybe realize your mistake. It all makes sense now, the dots connect and you know damn well what you have to do now. Although you don't know how much you owe in his terms, the best you can do is overcompensate until your debt of kisses is paid.
The sudden silence prompts your husband to lift his head at you, still looking at him intently. Seconds of silence go by between you, anticipation and panic rising in your spouse. Suddenly, you tackle him deeper into the sofa with your whole body weighing on him. The air blown out of his lungs, his ribs bruised, and heart pounding, your lover can do nothing but watch as you take his face into your hands and squishing his cheeks. A pout of your own looking down at his trapped figure, face nudging closer and closer until he can feel your lips ghosting over the tip of his nose.
Breathlessly scanning your features as you look at him with hearts in your eyes, blushing at the proximity even at marriage. Leaning your foreheads against each other, your uttered words clearing the fog in his mind.
"Why.....are you so..... cute!"
An array of kisses comes his way, quicker than he can comprehend. All over his red face, kisses on his forehead, both his cheeks, the spot between his eyebrows, on the bridge of his nose, anywhere he makes sure to tell you were his favourite to get a kiss.
"You could've"—
MUAH
"Just"—
MUAH
"Told me to come see you at work"—
MUAH
"And I would've come right away to give you as many kisses as you want"—
MUAH
Overwhelmed with your kisses, your husband can do nothing but wrap his arms around you and pull you closer. You only relent when he buries his face into your neck, his head moving back and forth as to bury himself deeper. It's so cute, how your husband tucks his face away from the world and into your shoulder. You can see the tips of his ears burn red, showing that you did more than a good job at lifting his spirit. His kiss-o-meter at a resounding 110% thanks to your efforts, more than enough to last him until tomorrow no doubt.
Your husband can smell the perfume you put on for work, it's faint but clear. He feels warmth all over his face, both from his position and your kisses. More than satisfied with your onslaught of affection, yet he craves more from you. He can never get enough of you anyway, so why stop now. Untucking his face from the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looks up at you. Not surprised to see you staring back at him, loving the way you smile at him. Raising his face to brush his nose against yours, his heart-melting words flow like a whisper to you.
"I love you, can you kiss me again?"
ATSUMU <333, BOKUTO <333, HINATA <333, OIKAWA <333, Sakusa <3, Kageyama <33, Kuroo (Plot twist is that he's doing this to be annoying (affectionately)), Lev
#「★ It's showtime! ★」#haikyu x reader#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu fluff#haikyu x female reader#haikyuu imagines#atsumu fluff#hinata fluff#atsumu x reader#sakusa fluff#hinata x reader#sakusa x reader#bokuto fluff#bokuto koutaro x reader#lev fluff#lev x reader#kageyama fluff#kageyama x reader#oikawa fluff#oikawa x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo fluff#This is way longer than it was supposed to be#I literally have a pinned post in my drafts and rules but I waited until this was out#the premise is so simple but why is it long#Currently daydreaming abt this#I saw a scenario like this once and knew I had to#Your little squishmellow husband being cute
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Hello! I was wondering if I could please make a request for dealer!remus with some angst where he has feelings for the reader, but thinks she doesn’t reciprocate so he ghosts her/ stops selling to her and she gets sad because she liked him too. Then maybe they run into each other at a party and she’s getting harassed by some guy so he steps in to help her. If not it’s okay, there’s no worries! I understand you’re probably busy, I just really love your work :)
There’s a pit in your stomach when you go to the dispensary and don’t find Remus. This is second week you’ve come in and he’s not been here.
He also hasn’t been answering to your texts. You try not to take it personally when Sirius gives you five grams and three cookies with no smile or snark.
“Is Remus well?” You ask before you leave and Sirius frowns.
“Yeah, did he tell you different, doll?” You shake your head and will tears not to spring in your eyes.
“I thought that’s why he hasn’t been in or hasn’t responded to my texts.” Before Sirius can say anything you turn your back to him, “Thanks Sirius.”
You don’t see Remus till another three weeks have passed when you let your friends drag you to Marlene’s party.
You’re sitting on the sofa in the living room, a blunt hanging from your lips as your eyes drag around the room.
It’s not that this isn’t your scene, it’s more so that you usually hang with Remus at these things so you don’t really have anything to do now.
Then your eyes land on him. He looks just as good as always, and you smile when you see him- till he turns and goes the opposite direction.
There’s a clamp around your heart at that, you don’t know what you’ve done but Remus seems to be tired or done with you completely.
How fun.
You finish the blunt and start to the kitchen, ready to pillage through Marlene’s cupboards to find hidden crunchie bars or even galaxy chocolates when someone taps your shoulder.
“Hi,” the man that stops you is good looking- objectively- and he seems kind but you’re not in the mood.
“Can i help you?” You ask distractedly, really you just want to find something to munch on.
“I’ve seen you around before at these parties and you just didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself tonight so I thought you might want some company.”
You shrug his hand off your shoulder, “No thanks. M’good on my own.”
It seems like that mustn’t have sit right with the man and his hand clamps around your wrist.
“There’s no need to be prissy about it,” he starts and while you try pulling your wrist from his grip you don’t notice Remus coming up behind you.
“Think you should let ‘er go mate,” his voice is gravelly as he speaks, like he’s smoked too much in recent weeks.
“Who’re you?” The man asks and you roll your eyes, grateful for the distraction because his hold slackens and you can carry on to the kitchen.
“You alright, dove?” Remus asks as he follows behind you. He watches you look around for snacks. Your head doesn’t turn in his direction and Remus feels a punch to his gut at it.
“Perfect. Thanks for getting rid of him, but I’m fine Remus.”
It’s petty, but using his name like that makes him know you’re not happy with him. Honestly, he wouldn’t be happy with himself either.
“Will you look at me for a second?” He murmurs and you scoff.
“I’d rather not. Can we go back to pretending we hate each other? The ghosting was a good move too.”
You don’t sound yourself and Remus can feel the bile churning in his stomach at the realization that he’s been a perfect fool.
“Dove,” your hand slams on the counter.
Finally you turn to face him, “No! You don’t get to stop talking to me for gods know what reason, stop dealing to me alone and then whirl in to stop some grim guy from being a pushy prick and think we’re fine.”
“You wanted to act like we don’t know each other, so go back to it.”
Remus just stands quietly as you seethe and that makes you even more upset.
“The only good thing about your ghosting is is stifled the fucking ridiculous idea I had of you and I being more than friends. So thanks for the reality check Remus, I’ll be going now.”
When you try to walk away he stands in your way and holds your hands. “Wait,” he takes a breath, “I’m sorry. For not talking to you or explaining what was going on. That was proper stupid of me.”
You just stare at him, blank and it’s then Remus notices how you used to look at him. All heart eyes, honey smile and affection.
“Yeah it was but you don’t get to just worm your way back. You were mean and what made it worse is you couldn’t just tell me what I did wrong.”
Remus shakes his head, “You didn’t do anything wrong, dove.” He watches your eyes full with tears.
“That doesn’t make it better, Remus.” When your voice cracks he pulls you into his chest.
“I’m sorry dove, I’m sorry.” It’s all he repeats and Remus can physically feel his heart crack at the fact that he’s made you cry. “God I’ve been stupid. I thought going cold turkey from you would’ve been the best thing to help the fact that I was falling madly in love with you.”
“You could’ve just said something,” you mumble into his shirt and Remus nods. “That was stupid.”
“I’ve already conceded to that point, dove.”
“I’ve not forgiven you yet.” You say to his playfulness and Remus sighs.
His hand cups your cheeks and tips your face upwards. “How can I make it up to you and not be the idiot who made you cry?”
You hum, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out.”
#remuslupin#remus lupin#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin fic#remus lupin x black!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x yn#dealer!remus#dealer!remus lupin
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resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:
I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.
Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.
I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”
“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.
I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.
“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.
“Karsten, can we have a chat?”
Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.
“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”
I turned on my heels and walked out.
Karsten ran after me.
“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”
The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”
He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?
A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.
Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.
But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.
I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.
All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?
It’s a question that has come back again this year.
Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.
That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.
Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.
Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.
That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.
I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.
The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.
Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.
The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.
Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.
His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.
Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.
#will buxton straight up was writing how nico is a manic pixie dream girl#essential read for nicologists#nico rosberg#will buxton#nicology#longform article
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✦˚ · 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐌
“Are you scared?” You asked.
The two of you were sitting close to each other, shoulders barely touching, hands almost intertwining had the wind been slightly colder. The air is cool against your skin. Slightly nipping at the edges of your dried cheeks but it was tolerable. You huddled next to the fire, burying your face deeper in your scarf. Liyue may have been cold but it wasn’t as cold as Snezhnayan breezes. With that kind of power, your heart would have frozen from the inside out.
“What should I be scared of?” He replied. His words were laced with thick layers of snarkiness. He was never the dullest of tongues. You find yourself wondering how he has the time to come up with half of the things he says. You know that they are not meant to be funny. Not with the way he tells them. Yet something about his words seems rather humorous. It made your cheeks grow warm.
He gives you an arrogant smile. His head leaning into his open palm. “Don’t tell me you believe in scary monsters. I heard from Childe they tend to lurk around the dark corners of Liyue.” His nonchalant attitude warmed your heart just a tinge. Whether that be of annoyance or not was never something you wanted to answer. It could have possibly been a delusion as well.
The navy-haired man raises his arms, drawing his hands out like claws. “I bet as a kid, you were probably scared to go outside because you might get taken away.”
“What kind of person would be scared of something like that?” Your hand reaches out, your fingertips barely touching the flame. It was warm and comforting. It felt more honest than the man sitting beside you. You let out a sigh of relief when you feel your body stray from the cold. “It’s just some kid's tale.”
“You’re from Liyue though, you should believe in it a little.” He huffs as if you were the one boring him.
You kick a rock beside the edge of your foot. “It’s a kid's tale.”
“You’re quite childish yourself.”
“And you look childish.”
You glare at each other for a slight moment. The air has gotten a little tense but it was nothing compared to the Tsaritsa’s gaze. You could almost feel her eyes dig into the back of your head despite her being a forward-eyed creature. You are amazed and flabbergasted that Childe would at all believe her words. You could not say the same for your beloved Archon whose ruling left you abandoned and tired.
You think of him as an old man. Someone once great yet faded into nothingness. You think it’s rather sad. You had hoped that perhaps he could have put more fight into his life. To stray further away from obscurity, to retain his glorious legacy in person. It’s a shame that he was nothing more than a pawn willing to be played by a foreign woman. You thought it was a joke when he agreed to hand over his gnosis, but nothing would have shocked you more than the defeated look in his eyes.
It was pitiful, to say the least.
“So. What should I be scared of?” He asks, his shoulder brushing against yours slightly. The sudden movement of his body sends shivers down your spine.
“. . . Nothing, I guess.” You say, “It was nothing.”
“If it was nothing you wouldn’t have said anything.”
“If I say it, you’d just laugh at me.” Biting the bottom of your lip, you suck in a breath, “You thought I was scared of some stupid kid's tale.”
“It was a joke. Take it with a grain of salt.”
“Your words seem more than just a grain of salt.”
“What?”
“You’re quite petty,” He stands up from his seat, staring down at you with a surprised look. You raise your eyebrows at him, confused as to what his reaction may pertain to. Was he truly offended by your words? Or was he feigning hurt so you could lower your guard? With this man, anything seems almost possible. “What is it?”
“I was being serious, what are you scared of?”
You look away from him. He resists the urge to sigh in front of you.
“Don’t turn your head at me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
There is a moment of silence. A long period in which neither of you talk to each other. The man in front of you is trying hard not to place your head in his hands. He wants to wrap his fingers around what he would describe to be a “thick skull” and raddle whatever is left within it. He would ask you, ‘if you had anything left.’
That was the kind of person he was. Someone who would laugh at you when you feel anything less than confident. He was someone always there to jump on you when you least expected it. Whether it be in the palace halls or during meetings, his tongue never fell short upon you. It was as if he had every insult and word laid out in front of him, locked and loaded like a gun that he never hesitates to fire. While it may be comedic, you find it hard to take him anything less than serious.
“I. . .” Talking to him would lead to nothing but dead-end conversations.
“Aren’t you scared, going back to Inazuma?” But you can’t stop yourself.
He blinks once. Twice. Three times in a row. He doesn’t say anything. Perhaps he was in his head. You can’t read it though. His expression and personality have always been rather unpredictable, and you wouldn’t be the slightest of surprised if he were to be thinking about something else other than your conversation at the moment.
“What?”
Did he not hear you properly? You swore you said it with the clearest voice imaginable. Perhaps he is only messing with you. And if he was, then it would have been a cruel time to do so. “I said, are you scared to go back to Inazuma!”
“No, I heard you.”
You stare at him with a hollowed-out expression. Why do you even worry about him? He has everything underneath his belt. Out of many of the Harbingers, to you, he seemed the most capable of this job. He has enough men and power. He has stealth and knowledge. He could finish the mission in a day if he wanted. So why do you worry about him? Why worry about how he feels? If anything, you should be worrying about yourself.
“Why would I be scared?” He asks you as if you had asked the simplest thing in the world.
You grip your clothes tightly. “You–You’re going back and seeing Ei. Is that not scary?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
He opens his hand out to you.
“Because we’re going together. That’s all that matters to me.”
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Hi! Absolutely loved your pjo stranger things post!!!! Do you have any more headcanons about that verse you’d be willing to share? (Especially about Steve ;))
Not headcanons but little snippets just for you, anon <3
Dionysius has never made it anything other than crystal clear that he hates his job. He dislikes teenagers (their ability to throw Bacchanalia aside) and to be surrounded by them and expected to care about their petty squabbles is just...eugh. The boss man really chose a terrible punishment.
But (and somehow there is a but to working with all his godly peers snot nosed brats) he doesn't...mind young children. They are free of inhibition, look at the world in wonder, are unafraid to taste and try mysteries, and are capable of gluttony to rival a gorged king.
Which is how the youngest camper he's ever had has somehow weedled his way into sitting on his lap as he plays pinochle with Chiron. Dionysius slaps his hands, gently, away from the cards, pulls him a bit farther from the table.
"Mr. D," the kid says "are you my dad?"
He splutters, knocks his (depressingly virgin) cocktail all over the table, gets a chuckle from Chiron (the traitor), and has to grip the kid by the waist to ensure he doesn't tumble to the floor. The kid giggles.
"What makes you say that?" He says after he's finished cursing.
Tiny shoulders shrug. "I dunno. Other campers were talking about their parents, and, Uhm." He squirms "They said I don't got one. Like. God-y or not, cuz I didn't run away but I live here all the time. So I thought maybe camp's my home cuz yer my dad?"
Well, shit. How's he, an immortal being who's own father banished him here and can hardly remember being actually mortal let alone a child, supposed to tell a kid that not only did he get dumped in the woods as a baby, and his godly parent hasn't let anyone know who they are, but the weird guy making sure he doesnt die and knows how to read isn't his dad. Whoever his parents are owe Dionysius so much.
"Well. No. I'm not your dad."
He kicks his feet. "But you help take care-a me?"
"Yes. Because you are little."
"They said that's what their normal parents do."
"Well. I'm a god. So."
"But I'm little. And I don't got one." Godsdammit. Now he sounds sad. "They said sometimes kids don't ever get claimed."
Dionysius shifts him so he can look at his face properly.
"Listen, kid. I'm not your dad. I'd tell you if I was your dad. Promise." He can't believe he just said promise. Gods.
"Okay." He says, satisfied, turning back to the table. "Chiron is for sure not my dad, 'cause I'm not a horse."
Dionysius laughs. Yeah. He's got a soft spot for the little ones.
-------
Steve holds his plate in front of him, cup balancing precariously on top of it. Cindy, the head camper of the Hermes cabin where he's lived ever since he can remember, said they scraped off part of their food as an offering to the gods, and specifically their godly parent. Steve has rotated through all the gods this week, since the older campers decided he's old enough to understand why they do it. He's even offered some to Dionysius, as a thank you even though he knows he's not his dad.
The only god he hasn't yet is Hestia, but he's going to tonight. No one really talks about her, even less than Hera and Artemis, but he figures he can try. Some of the Hunters of Artemis, who visited a while ago, told him about Hestia and how she tended the home fires of the gods. How she got a portion of every burnt offering, even if it wasn't directed to her.
He thinks that she might appreciate something special, so he decides to dedicate his burnt offering to her, and offer what some kids called libations. He'll scrape some food into the fire, and then pour some of his juice over it too. The Hunters told him it was special, so he'll try it. Maybe because she's the goddess of home, she'll know who his parents are.
He steps up, slides half his bun and a pile of mashed potatoes with an asparagus on-top that Cindy helped him divide up before they left the table, into the fire, thinking as loudly as he can for you, Hestia. He places his plate down and picks up his cup, the older kids behind him huffing impatiently. He pours a splash, then a second one because he wasn't sure how much a libation was supposed to be, and thinks again for Hestia and our home as it fizzles to nothing on the bricks of the fire.
Picking up his plate, he smiles to himself. His first week of real offerings is going well, he thinks.
-----
Once, when Steve was sixteen, the magic goblets of the dinner tables filled up with wine. Or at least his did. He took his cup with him, poured his libation for Hestia, one of the only two gods he felt remotely any respect for, and paused. He poured a second, for Dionysius.
After the meal, he was summoned. Mr. D raised his eyebrows at him when he walked in and clamped his hand on his shoulder. He'd long since stopped being intimidated by the god, probably sometime around being promised that he wasn't his son, but couldn't help but feel nervous.
"Kid. You can't do that."
"Why not?"
Mr. D sighed."because I'm dry for the next century. My old man hates loopholes, alright?"
"Oh. Sorry."
"Alright, get out of here. We had a late arrival, a nervous one. Get her settled in Hermes cabin with your gaggle of misfits." He waved Steve out, but before he got off the porch steps, he called out. "And Steve?" He waited until he turned back around, then shrugged. "Thanks for trying."
Steve grinned.
-------
There was gonna be a little hint of steddie here but the app keeps crashing so it's not meant to be
#steve harrington#stranger thing#pjo stranger things#finda writes stuff#pjo stranger things au#anonasaurus#findaanswers#stranger things fic
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- A request for @rlking27 (i hope you like it)
- Summary : Ronin owes a debt to one of the groups of thugs he works for from time to time. In an ambush when he has no strength, a young man manages to help him. But who is ?
-Note : This is my first english one-shot
-Word : 2k+ Never ask me about Ronin or I'll go away TT
- /!\ Warning /!\ : violence, dead mother, traditional family, debt, young pregnancy, sad ending because i'm a professional at it
卂 千卂ㄒ卄乇尺＇丂 尺乇Ꮆ尺乇ㄒ
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The evening was cool, as usual for February. The lights in the Ninjago City shops went out in turn. But one noodle sign in particular remained lit. Its mythical sign "Welcome to Chen's Noodle Restaurant". At this late hour, the calm and happy customers no longer paid any attention to this sign. But a completely different kind of customer does.
The restaurant is quiet. Everyone was eating noodles in an eerie silence. No one was talking, just the sound of conveyor belts serving food. The sound of mouths and chopsticks rubbing against bowls filled with noodles. The most stressed customers stared at everyone else. In its darkest hours, this restaurant resembled a western saloon. Everyone stares at each other, as if for survival, but no one moves. According to them, they are far too precious, even for petty criminals.
While everything was going well, much to the delight of the owner and certain customers. The calm quickly became a chaotic mess. A group of men entered the restaurant, under a dish of disgusting words and a list of incomprehensible words. Their voices echoed throughout the restaurant, breaking the religious silence. The five men walked towards the last free table. Away from suspicion and icy stares. Although their path to this table had not gone unnoticed. Each of them had made quite a mess of the tables they occupied. Spilling bowls on faces, sticking wooden chopsticks up noses and incestuous taunts. The only ones who tried to fight back were laughed at by five mad men. Nothing could stop them, they said.
The most dominant man in the group, which can be "a leader". Strides in like a peacock ready to woo the lady. Slumped on the counter, in a flirtatious pose straight out of a cheap movie. He begins to speak in a suave voice, a little exaggerated.
"Hello my sweet ladybird, still working here," he asks with a flirtatious smile under the mockery of his comrades. "Shut up," he whispers aggressively, before turning back to the redhead.
"You're blocking my carpets and the customers aren't going to be happy," she said without much interest in her charming act.
"I know that deep down you love me, just as I love you."
"I swear if there's a single piece of my noodles on the floor it's you and you're four funny guys who polish it until it shines, the dry tone echoes in the ears of the evening's regulars, this is going to end badly."
"My ladybird has a fiery tongue, but what about in bed?" he asks with a perverse smile that could make any man or woman vomit.
That question was the last straw in Skylor's patience. In anger, his hand rose and fell with a dull sound, echoing through the restaurant. As if it had been the only sound for five minutes. Leaving everyone satisfied but scared of what might happen next. A red mark forms on his face. Anger and surprise read on his face. As he raised his head to face the young woman's act of bravery or stupidity. Deep laughter filled his bloody, ashamed ears. Turning back to the voice, he saw an old friend. At that moment he thought that if he couldn't hit a woman, why not a bastard who owed him money. A lot of money. A sadistic smile spread across his face, still red with shame. So his henchmen quickly understood the following pattern.
Not forgetting the affront she had just given him. He turns to her and threatens her openly.
"One more time and you'll be a ladybird without the red".
Like a tidal wave the whole previous episode has been swept away. In his brain the only thing he wants is to take this man down and get his money back. This man was only a few steps away from him. But anyone who was there can tell you that he would have walked forever. While he was just sitting on the counter eating noodles, an ordinary citizen. Like a predator he approached him and grabbed his prey by the shoulder wearing his orange armour. A smile that could make a grandparent's wallpaper peel off.
"Ah," he exhaled in satisfaction before resuming, "My good old friend Ronin," he said, increasing his grip on him."
"Tidus, it's been a long time," he said, concentrating on his bowl, "how's your last girlfriend been since we knew you were getting laid."
The man had a sneer at the edge of his lips, which he could easily hide under his hat. But the man he was talking to laughed yellow. He winced in displeasure before answering.
"She left just afterwards," he admitted in a low voice to avoid any further embarrassment.
"I already knew that, before you told me, she came back to me, her grin turned into a toothy grin, maybe you should have looked after her better," he said before cracking a low laugh that didn't go unnoticed by the blond Tidus.
One joke too many, one minute too many wasted listening to that idiot. he said before gripping the back of his head firmly. His hat had fallen to the ground, revealing his smile and his new face. This surprised Tidus, Ronin now had a camera over his right eye. He didn't know what it was and he didn't care. He found a way to persecute him a little.
"Ronin, ronin, look at how ugly and bitter you've become over time. The money I lent you wasn't enough to make you beautiful again," laughter could be heard behind Tidus, who was pleased with his remark.
"Money, loan," he repeated like a holy prayer full of venom.
His eyes went wide with fear and a nervous laugh came from his mouth. Tidus reveled in the sound of fear to inflate his ego.
Without thinking Ronin threw a tray of sushi from the conveyor belt into Tidus's face. Surprised, he dropped his skull, removing the rice from his carefully prepared outfit. Meanwhile Ronin had already taken off running towards the exit door. But he was stopped when his head hit the counter and the conveyor belt. This made him turn towards his attacker, who was none other than one of the four members of Tidus's group. His nose bled, but it wasn't broken. Fortunately, he said. He needed more, even though he was no longer young. Meanwhile, his attacker had already launched him towards the wall to his right. Head first, breaking his new detection module. Money down the drain. Ronin could do nothing more, too stunned for the moment.
Her legs gave out on her, like the traitors they are. Leaving his helplessness as a spectacle for the others. While his brain is half disconnected, he feels his body being lifted up by his arms. No one moves a toe, not even Skylor. She'd always said that she never wanted to have any problems with settling scores. He was dragged through the streets of Ninjago City. Once they reach a small alleyway, away from prying eyes, they toss Ronin like a sack of potatoes. As if he was worthless. As he tries to stand up to regain a modicum of ego. He was quickly dealt blows by the four men. Making him fall forward once again, he quickly positioned himself to protect his stomach, as well as himself.
Five minutes passed, but Ronin felt as if it had been going on for an eternity. Punches, kicks and spitting on his screwdriver, as well as insults. Meanwhile Tidus watched, smoking his cigar. It was like a film. He couldn't take it any more, his body couldn't take it any more, but his brain and his dignity said otherwise. Just when he thought his ordeal was over, his battered body ended up on its knees. Facing Tidus, to see the masterpiece, "His masterpiece".
"So you thought you could take my girl and my money without any trouble," he said, taking a drag from his cigar, "don't answer, it wasn't a question. For days I've been dreaming of getting my hands on you and making you eat my boots."
His screwing hit the ground hard, as Tidus' foot used all its strength to immobilise him. His body could do nothing, too ruined for the moment. Seeing no reaction from him, the man above him sneered, his hiss of pain his only response. Tidus sucked in a little of his cigar, blowing all the smoke into his face. Ronin didn't even react, too used to the cigar or his brain had stopped working. Tidus could see he was tired. Blood was dripping from his lips, nose and the top of his head. The only thing he wanted to do was make sarcastic comments. But he didn't do that to avoid making his current situation worse. Ronin was in a bad way. But did he get what he deserved?
"Tidus brought his cigar close to Ronin's face. A survival instinct suddenly returned to his brain. He moved like an earthenware glass to get out of there, but the force above him was far greater than he was. What an idea to drink alcohol just before going out to eat. Out of the corner of his free eye, he sees the cigar a few centimetres from his cheek, and can feel the heat it gives off. Accepting his fate, he closes his eyes, anticipating the pain.
"Let him go," asks a voice a little further down the alley.
"Why should we listen to you?" asks Tidus, almost laughing.
Ronin could no longer keep his eyes open. His brain wanted to slap his body to stay awake and run away. But he couldn't. In what seemed like a fight, Ronin fell asleep. Ironically used to it.
It was only a few minutes later that his body received a tingling sensation in his face. Afraid of what it might be, he grabbed the wrist in front of him. Startled, the young man stepped back, falling onto his buttocks. With a glimmer of licidity, Ronin realised that he couldn't hurt him. Releasing his red wrist, he picked up the bottle of alcohol with his other hand.
"What's that," asks Ronin suspicious of the bottle's container.
"It's disinfectant," said the young man still sitting dumbfounded at his rude awakening.
"Why is it marked hooch," he asks, pointing to the label.
In embarrassment, the young man replied "because it is". Thanks to this answer, he could hear Ronin laugh for the first time. Which had been rare for years. Ronin quickly brought the bottle to his mouth and, without thinking too hard, began to drink. But he spat it out as quickly as he could. The taste was very bitter, at least not in the usual way. Seeing how bad the bottle was, he threw it into the street. With the sound of breaking glass echoing throughout the street.
"You don't have a relative," asks Ronin, watching the liquid escape from the shards of glass."
"Er, it's complicated," admitted the boy, looking at the ground sadly.
Ronin could see the sadness in her eyes. A ball of empathy formed in his stomach. He himself had little contact with his parents. His mother died a few years after he was born and his father only saw her as a weakling for the forge. He never knew if he had a brother after he left or if he had an uncle. To be honest, as he got older, he would have liked to know, but what would he think of him? Who would want a pathetic thief. He often said this in his drunken stupor. Ronin wasn't the worst of thieves, he knew that. But where he grew up, he was a disgrace. An outcast.
The young chestnut sat down next to him, his back against the wall as he did, and crossed his legs. The men stayed like that for a few seconds, staring at the wall in front of them, in an awkward silence. Neither of them dared speak, neither of them knew what to say so as not to embarrass the other. So they remained silent for a few more minutes. Enjoying the silence, compare to earlier. Ronin didn't want to rest on this little one, but he was so tired and wanted to take any human warmth for himself. Her body slid gently towards him, until their shoulders touched. Putting some of her weight on him. He didn't refuse.
"Thank you for helping me, not many people would have wanted to help me," he admitted in a whisper.
"It's nothing, I did what I thought was right. That's why I want to become a doctor, to heal and help," he confessed in a voice full of ambition.
"Your parents will be very proud of you, I'm sure. As for me, I hope you'll always patch me up," he cracks a joke to relax a little.
"It's going to be really tough."
The young man paused to look sadly at the pendant around his heart. Ronin grunted softly, as if in response. But in reality he was falling asleep, as comfortable as he could be. As if he was at ease and wasn't going to get killed on his way out of the alley. The young man removed the chain from his neck to open the pendant. To reveal a photo of a beautiful woman on the left and another young woman on the right. Ronin opened his eyes and was startled to discover a ghost from his past. A very good ghost, he's actually the bad ghost in the story. At first he thought he'd seen wrong, the lighting wasn't in his favour. They were in a less dark corner now. But yes, he did recognise this woman, who made his heart vibrate with joy every time he went to see her in secret. A childhood sweetheart. His everyday love. The world revolved around him, fortunately for him. Nori, as he called herself, was there or he would have run away. Out of fear, or disgust for himself.
"My… My mum died a few years ago now. The doctors said she died of cancer, but I think she was sad she'd never see our dad again."
The sky fell on him, no Ninjago City fell on him. He never thought she'd die so young. Every word after "dead" had been shredded. He couldn't understand anything, everything was a blur. But he had to pretend that everything was fine and find out more, so as not to get any hasty ideas.
"And she's your girlfriend," he said to change the conversation in a humorous tone, pointing to the other photo."
"What! No, she's my twin sister, Ninon… Mum often said she looked a lot like Dad. But we never saw her. It was taboo in the family. Even in his own family, apparently. They're beautiful, aren't they," he says, pointing at the photos like a child showing a drawing to his parents.
"Mmmh… Very", Ronin had run out of answers.
If he concentrated carefully he could see it. It was the famous line on his face that he had been familiar with for so long. He always wanted to see it again. Her smile, her eyes, the way she breathed and the charm she exuded. He saw her in him. In his son. Now he knows for sure that Nori is his son. And so is Ninon. But he was also very surprised to hear the news like this. He is still pleasantly surprised, as if he knew that all these years he had two beautiful children. Loved and cherished by their mother and grandparent. At that moment he told himself that it would be better if he didn't know the truth, if ever. Too afraid of anything happening to them. After all, it's a father's job to protect his children. He doesn't want to be like his father. He might as well never exist…
A father's regrets are eternally engraved in his heart by their choice…
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For me canonically Ronin at 44 years in the series, this one-shot is before the series. So maybe in the 38 years at least after meeting Soul Archer. That's why he has his eyepiece.
If I make any mistakes, tell me to correct them.
Ninjago Taglist (open)
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago fandom#ninjago ronin#ronin ninjago#ronin kognito#ninjago ff#ninjago fluff#ronin ff#ninjago fanfiction#ninjago fanfic#ninjago oneshot#ninjago writing#ronin/oc#ninjago ronin/oc
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i saw art of hc!grian and dl!scar hanging out and hc!scar and dl!grian hanging out so you get some random writing i did cuz of it
the red sweater wearing man groaned, opening his eyes before shutting them due to the brightness of the area. his mind felt dizzy as he placed his hands over his eyes, until his hypersensitivity to the light faded and he opened his eyes once again.
the thing he noticed first was scar, looking concerned above him, but it didn't look like scar. or well, the atmosphere of scar had shifted, it wasn't the happy man he knew from hermitcraft, he had a couple extra scars and his eyes were red, not that he pays extra attention to his best friends eyes or face or anything, totally not.
the second thing he noticed was that he was in a grimy cave, the sunlight from area only from the wide open entrance which showed the sun rising above the distance, and a lone cactus, where the hell was he. the last thing he remembered was tripping and falling into the boatem hole, and suddenly he was in this weird place.
he darted up, clearly surprising the other as this, as other scar stumbled backwards.
"where am i? " he mumbled, surprisingly calm, looking at the other scar, realising for a moment he was only wearing a jacket on his upper half, showing his pecs to the world, a flush appeared on his face, imagining his scar with the same outfit.
"uh, g? you certainly couldn't have forgotten where we are! you took a bad hit to the head yeah but it wasn't that bad," the other scar said, concern growing on his face yet attempted to be hidden by a fake grin.
grian had a puzzled look on his face, a hit to the head? when? "what do you mean? i fell into the boatem hole, not get a hit to the head," genuine confusion filled his voice.
silence surrounded them for what felt like hours before scar spoke, "you aren't my grian are you?" he hummed, his smile had gone, but it was like it was a real one anyway. he looked the other up and down before landing on the eyes. the eye contact was horrible, as he stared. he thought he was going to mention his eye colour, considering how his was different to his own scar.
"you're too nice," is what the other landed on, spite filling his voice and he turned away, towards the chests. guilt creeped its way up in grians stomach, despite the fact this wasn't his scar, he wasnt the other grian.
he felt something getting given to him as scar returned, cookies, he stared at them in confusion before lifting them up to his mouth and eating them. "uh thanks? these are good. i guess it seems like every scar is great at baking," he mumbled inbetween chews, and the answer he gave seemed to satisfy the other scar, as he smiled.
it wasn't a proper scar smile that he got from his scar back on hermitcraft all the time, however, it was a sad, pathetic smile of a man who was overjoyed with the small compliment. and the guilt only grew despite not being the one to inflict this on him.
scar: oh u arent my grian i dont have to act happy anymore, anyway have a cookie cuz MY grian didnt appreciate it 🙄
i love petty dl!scar so
anyways i got tired but i might finish it later and post it to ao3 - 🧨
I'm on the floor at the way dl!Scar act just dropped immediately after figure out it wasn't his Grian
Please please finish- this little bit is so good, I wanna see dl!Grian's and hc!Scar's reaction so bad too
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A Clash of Kings - 47 ARYA IX (pages 609-627)
Northmen arrive as prisoners at Harrenhal, and Arya uses her third Name to coerce Jaqen into staging a jailbreak.
Jaqen H'ghar leaves the party.
-
"There's ghosts, I know there is. (...) Pia saw something in the buttery last night."
Arya made a rude noise. Pia was always seeing things in the buttery. usually they were men.
Ha! well, as long as it's all consensual, more power to her.
"I need a whole tray. Ser Armory is partial to them."
Arya hated Ser Armory. "Let's spit on them."
Arya has regained enough of her moxy to be viciously petty. I love that for her. As long as it doesn't get her into trouble.
"And if we did escape, where would we go?"
...
"I'm a 'prentice smith, and one day might be I'll make a master armorer... if I don't run off and lose my feet or get myself killed." He turned away from her, picked up his hammer once more, and began to bang.
Arya's hands curled into helpless fists. "The next helm you make, put mule's ears on it place of bull's horns!"
Gendry has a good point. The number of guards might be severely reduced, but it's way more than two, they'd be out numbered in a jiffy. And on the very slim chance they did escape, Winterfell is a long way from Harrenhal, across contested countryside with injured men.
Arya's finally getting some of her confidence back, feeling like she can make a difference even if she knows it's all small scale and immediate, and now she's back to feeling helpless because she can't help the men loyal to her family. She's being forced to realise how much of that power she now wields is an illusion, when she's standing so close to what should be a major boon in resources and allies.
I just hope she doesn't do anything rash.
"A girl will weep. A girl will lose her only friend."
"You're not my friend. A friend would help me." She stepped away from him, balanced on the balls of her feet in case he threw his knife. "I'd never kill a friend."
Jaqen's smile came and went. "A girl might... name another name then, if a friend did help?"
"A girl might," she said. "If a friend did help."
two things.
1: so in the show they have this giant room in the back of the House of Black and White which is like a face library right? I don't know if it's canon to the books, but they the show does. And I just thought it would be so awkward if, like, any number of people can borrow a face at the same time and if they get killed while wearing it that's fine, it's still available for others, more like an e-book than a physical copy, with the original kept in the vault UNLESS this sort of situation in which a faceless man is directly tasked to kill one of their identities. Then the face is destroyed and no one ever gets to borrow it again.
I feel like that may not have made a lot of sense. (It also definitely isn't a thing because Arya sees Jaqen later in the show, but that's not the point. Also consider personality hive minds.)
2. Lalu fufufu shabala fabala fabala fabala fabala fabala fabala
If you get that reference: I am so sorry. But it has ruined this scene for me. Arya's out here being clever and my brain skipped sideways and I started cacking.
"I take back the name."
...
"The debt is paid," Arya agreed reluctantly. She felt a little sad. Now she was just a mouse again.
"A god has his due. And now a man must die." A strange smile touched the lips of Jaqen H'ghar.
"Die?" she said, confused. What did he mean? "But I unsaid the name. You don't need to die now."
"I do. My time is done."
And now Arya gets to learn that her actions have consequences, and somethings just can't be taken back. I get the feeling this is about to be reflected on a slightly larger scale. This jailbreak is about to go not the way she expected it to.
...Oh? Success? Oh... success. Eeeeewwww, Bolton senior. Blergh.
But she's not telling him her name~ Thank goodness. "If she'd just reveal her self all would be well UwU" WRONG!!! He cannot be trusted! "Leeches purge the bad blood" pfff. That's literally not how that works. but more importantly:
JUSTICE (BY BEAR) FOR YOREN!!!!
The next few posts might be on queue, because the Reader is going away for the weekend. We'll see how that goes.
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I was today years old when I found out that Johnny Marr played guitar on & CO-WROTE Billy Bragg's Sexuality & it has sent my Marrissey brain into overdrive 👀
ooh yes! Johnny in his autobio talked about how he one day heard Billy Bragg fiddling in his studio with this idea of a song with "some interesting phrases about sexuality" so Johnny took the tape home and perfected the track and from it sprang Sexuality, a "great pop song with brilliant lyrics", as he put it
And just because you're gay I won't turn you away
If you stick around I'm sure that we can find some common ground
i know nowadays this seems like basic humanity but at the time, at the height of the AIDS epidemic that disproportionately affected the gay community, it must have been revolutionary, a real show of support
unfortunately, over the years, Billy Bragg has taken to changing the line "sexuality, don't threaten me with misery" to "sexuality, don't threaten me with Morrissey", so sometimes allyship does go out the window, huh
Johnny has always presented himself as an ally, and very genuinely at that. whether there was a hint of curiosity or personal experience is up for speculation. Johnny has never neglected to mention growing up immersed in the feminine ethos and "around loads of gay boys" (he goes on to say that but i'm linking the start of his thought). Morrissey recounted having the same upbringing. Johnny then continues in his talk saying how Manchester had then and still does now a "thriving, absolutely vibrant, very important gay scene" and how the best time you could have was in the gay clubs, where, incidentally, the Smiths played some of their first gigs, according to Johnny's autiobio. back to the video [ON WHICH JOHNNY DOES NOT GET QUOTED ENOUGH and maybe i should and will do], "in the very, very early days, when it probably was just even me and Morrissey, we had to almost reign it in, we had to maybe take a step back and be a bit more palatable. we would've probably been a much more radical band… but look at our first single [Hand in Glove], the first single cover, it's one of the things i'm very, very proud of and Morrissey's contribution which was the iconography".
since i've already brought up Johnny's talk at the Oxford Union in 2019, and he's absolutely brilliant in it - he's asked maybe a handful of questions but he builds so well on them - i will hijack your ask to highlight some of my favourite moments from it
right off the bat, 7:08 "i'm not famous for extremely controversial statements AHEM" fuck you johnny, you petty child. barely lasted 7 minutes without getting a laugh at Morrissey's expense but then he COMPLETELY loses his train of thought for a good 20 seconds. he needs to recalibrate after that Morrissey mention because god knows where his minds goes veering off to. totally self-inflicted and absolutely deserved
…
"that might sound a little pretentious or highfalutin, and so what, i'm pretentious" this was just funny and the very thing you'd expect the man Morrissey fell in love with to say
…
the same Johnny who never fails to talk about the Love between him and Morrissey (18:11) "i went and knocked on Morrissey's door and put this band together. strangers, you learn to love each other… very quickly."
27:49 just Johnny being funny saying he never wanted to look at the same bass player for 40 years, then catches himself to say he still does, with him and Andy being mates, corrects it to never wanted to look at the same drummer for 30 years, for 10 years (when i tell you i waited with bated breath for him to say singer but he didn't), then he says "that's not personal, i just saw my future differently". then, i think he gets a little emotional, saying it was "sad how it came out", having to break off from the Smiths to realize the vision of his music career he had from the start
34:21 that question was bait but i think Johnny subverts the expectation that he's going to dump on Morrissey for his lyrical contribution to Some Girls… and instead he says he loved it, it was great when he'd get unexpected lyrics to go with his music. i love Johnny's analogy of a painting of a camel against the backdrop of the British coastline but that in fairness, he couldn't think "of a Smiths song that sounded like a camel". he becomes so lovely, so loving when he talks about the recording/producing process of Smiths songs, how unorthodox they were, he gets transformed. "the probably boring answer that at that time, Morrissey was my best mate and we loved everything that each other did and we both thought everything we did was brilliant"
46:10 "i didn't want to do any Smiths songs for years and years because 1. i just felt like no one should and 2. i was fucked up about it and now i learned not to be fucked up about it and to be alright with your past" he calls There is a Light… a perfect marriage of poetry and music
48:05-48:20 DESERVED A LAUGH, stupid audience
49:05 on the endurance of the Smiths songs, "because there's loads of emotion in the recording, almost every single Smiths song, because even if it's just from me - i can't speak for the other fellas - because when we were recording it, i felt like i was three feet off the ground. because i loved what i was playing, loved the situation i was in and i loved my life, and it was this unbelievable high that was imbued and infused in the recordings"
i'm sorry if this was more than you or anybody bargained for but again, i would recommend listening to an hour of Johnny talking any day
p.s. on the one hand, i understand Morrissey's open letter, he got tired of being a talking point or comedic fodder. on the other hand, Johnny was still talking about what they had with so much love, even in 2019
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Jealousy
A look into the mind of Steve and his thoughts on Eddie before season 4.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: insecure Steve and his issues
~~~~~~~~~
Steve wants to hate Eddie, wants to reach back to his King Steve days and pull on all the parts that make Eddie weird, a looser, different. But he can't hate Eddie for any of those things, because Eddie is like his kids and he loves his kids. He couldn't hate a thing they did. So, he has to sit with the fact that he is jealous of Eddie. Jealous because his shrimp love the guy.
And it’s so frustrating, because Steve doesn’t want to be. It’s obvious the kids have so much fun playing with Eddie and he wants them to have that. To have a place where the Upside Down can be forgotten. Where they can be kids again.
So, he’s just on his own, stewing in his feelings.
If he tells Robin, he’s sure she’ll tell him something about being scared of getting abandoned or something due to his parents. But he ignores mind!Robin and purposefully doesn’t tell her.
He is not going to care about how great Eddie’s campaign is. How well he can narrate. How cool his NPCs are. How much he they look up to him. He’s not. He refuses.
But saying and doing are different things. Very different. Steve still stews and cares so fucking deeply. Every time they come into the store, or he drives them home after a session, he listens to them gush and tries not to shrivel up.
A part of him tells him how truly pathetic it is that he’s jealous of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson of all people. And he hates that part a little. Because yeah, it is sad that he’s jealous, but not because it’s Eddie. It would be pathetic with everyone, since he is a grown ass man, who shouldn’t be so worried about the opinion of a group of children.
However, he does care. Their opinion of him is everything to him, because they never knew King Steve. They never knew the asshole he used to be (except maybe Mike, but that’s just never going to work). They just know Steve, the babysitter and the guy they can turn to when it all goes to shit again.
He’s their protector and he likes that role. He likes feeling like they need him. Like he’s useful. Like he is worth something.
And that doesn’t make his whole crisis about Eddie less embarrassing and sad, but he doesn’t care anymore. He has become a little bit pathetic. The great Steve Harrington, womanizer and party thrower, reduced to post-high school failure and glorified nanny for a bunch of kids who don’t really need him.
The gates are closed, half their party moved to another state. He should be letting the whole Upside Down business go. He should try to move on.
But he just can’t.
His brain won’t stop fearing every shadow. At night he roams the halls of his empty home, seeing shapes in the darkness that aren’t there as he looks for cracks in a reality that should be stable. The fear that it isn’t over clings to him and until everyone can get away from Hawkins, Steve knows he has to stay even if it’s just to calm himself.
He cannot leave. He cannot move on. He cannot risk being too far away when things go wrong again. He cannot think about those kids here alone without anyone to turn to.
So, he stays and grits his teeth as he hears the name Eddie for the thousand time. It’s not that much an issue to deal with his own bullshit if it means knowing he’ll be within reach. He knows that the jealousy is better for his mental health than the uncertainty.
And when Dustin and Max come into his place of work to ‘set up base of operation’ a part of him relaxes, even though he can feel the stress grip his shoulders tightly. Because he knows he made the right decision in staying. In bearing it.
It’s all about to go to shit again and he might not walk away this time and if he does, he’ll have more to keep him up at night. But none of that matters, because the kids need him and he is there for them.
When he figures out they want to find Eddie that small petty part of him wants to tell them to go and do it themselves. However, he knows he’ll never send them into danger alone and with the looks they give him, so do they.
But he can’t really be mad about that, because if they know he’s going to help, then they still know they can count on him. He still matters to them. He’s still useful.
And that’s enough for Steve.
~~
A/N:
I know I could make this much bigger and delve into how his feelings in regard to Eddie changes throughout the season and how he feels about his death, but I like this little look into him before the show. So, I stuck with that.
#rr writing#tw: insecurity#steve harrington#stranger things fic#stranger things#st#st season 4#eddie munson#st the party
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Please if you feel comfortable share those doggos pics!!!! Charlie, baby, I hope you live many, many years more! Don't even think about us, we will be here when you come back, you health and the pups are the most important! Lots of love for you!
Oh, thank you so much for your well wishes! Truly, one visit to the vet and we left with a little over $800 in charges . . . And that’s with only for the “first phase” of addressing Charlie’s health issues. （◞‸◟) My dad wanted to negotiate to cut out some treatments and tests, but I wouldn’t have it and offered to foot the whole bill— we split it 50/50, and his original owner insists on paying the costs back when she can afford to do so, though there’s no expectation for her to do so.
A murmur heart, fleas, ear infection, cataracts + dry eyes . . . That’s the start of it, and it’s a long list! But he’s improved so much in behavior and appearance with the medication and new environment alone, and it’s been so reassuring to see! For real, some household members were too scared to even touch his skin from all the bumps and bites (me included in the first hour or so), and the water from his first bath was turned pure black! Poor guy has a ways to go still, but he’s doing much better than before!
He had big brother at his old house, a half-Labrador and half-Pitbull, but the lovable giant passed away some months after my great-grandpa. He was the biggest sweetheart around, though he knocked us all hard on the dirt whenever he leaned against our legs to trap us for more pets, haha!
This here is a recent photo of Charlie, though I must say I’m by no means a photographer. I snapped it quick for my mom to show a friend, and he’s in a old man nap at the moment for an awake retake, haha! He used to be a bit possessive over my Grandpa in his pup years—barking and trying to nip at those approaching him, which made us scared of him in those days—but he became real mellow and attention-loving in adulthood and beyond. He tried to pull that old stunt on my little sister yesterday when she came to show me something, but I’m nipping that behavior in the bud in our home. The nap photo, however, is fresh off the press!
Here’s Thomas down below! My dad’s coworker’s / subordinate’s girlfriend was handing out pups after her purebred Maltese partnered up with a stray Chihuahua. He’s more reserved, a watch-over-everything-from-a-distance guy, and he’s the biggest sore loser in the house, haha! He becomes so petty whenever his little brother catches a toy first or doesn’t let him win a play fight (which is rare since Poe almost always follows Tommy’s lead).
Fun Fact: Our intent has been to adopt his brother since my younger minded siblings and I thought Thomas looked “so sad” compared to the happy energy his brother showed in the photo preview. Turns out, Thomas was the last to be adopted as someone scooped up his brother for a better price shortly ahead! It’s scary to think we might not have had Thomas in our lives otherwise!
Poe is the clingy, hyperactive, bully of a little brother, haha! He loves to chase lizards and flies for a snack, hit people in the face when they’re sleeping in too much (ahem!), and cuddle 24/7 (particularly while under a warm blanket). Charlie and him have entered a recent competition for most-clingy as they both take turns trying to push the other out of the way from sitting / pressing against me for pets! They’re much more friendly now though, maybe because of a personality kinship.
His mom was a “teen mom” that became pregnant after a pet hotel stay, or so the story goes. Her owners gave her up after she became pregnant, and the father remains unknown. She was a silky terrier, and it seems Poe inherited her long legs and broadness but not her overall size. And his dad must’ve been a horrendous shedder too, haha!
We intended to purchase Poe’s brother Major as well, but an old lady beat us to the punch with the right price. It’s a similar tale of horror to think about not having taken Poe home in an alternate reality, haha!
And then there’s my favorite legendary photo of the OG duo. Maybe I’ll one day achieve an equally precious trifecta image between all three . . . In the meantime, the only context I can provide for the photo is this: Poe is a troll.
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august update ii
Disclaimer: I would like to begin this email thread by saying if you didn’t want to receive emails from me you shouldn’t have given me your email to begin with.
Joke of the chain: Hear about the new restaurant called Karma....There’s no menu: You get what you deserve.
Trip to NYC: New York was not what I expected. Of course it smelled & there were a lot of rats but I actually really loved it there. Huge fan of Kelvin being down af to do anything and a bigger fan of Stevin and Mina. I can’t wait until October 7th to see Jack Harlow there and have a weekend with 7. I found the coolest decorations for my new apartment and I just need frames for them now, and I got a special edition Spider-Man comic. Kelvin and I spent some quality time together this weekend and if he doesn’t hate me after spending four hours with me both ways, it’s safe to say Kelvin is never getting sick of me. The bar we went to was called The Vig Bar and walking there for 20 mins was almost worth losing a toe..the drinks were disgustingly strong.
Shefali Roast: Fiona asked me if she should go see Ewan McGregor this weekend, and little ole me confused Obi Wan with that boxer/wrestler/fighter from Ireland. I'm totally blanking on names and I can't tell if it's because I'm getting old or if my brain is fried from all the boozing I've been doing.
Kelli Talk : Everyone please pray for our queen Kelli who is now living with three boys until after Labor Day weekend. Being a physical touch girlie, I made her hold my hand today...let me know why neither of us have any f'n circulation?
Boy update: Everyone welcome Alex to the chain. He is extremely excited to read the tea. Also; I left my purse at his apartment after my sneaky link & I swear I’ve never felt like more of an idiot considering not even 24 hours before that, I left my purse in Kelvin’s car after he dropped me off. Thank you, T, for driving/making me drive to go get it. I’m never doing that again.
TV Provider Update: HBOMax currently has the best selection of new shows and movies. Will keep you updated considering it changes every few weeks after they took down the Dark Knight Rises, I’ve never been Pro-HBO but they brought back some classics.
Pop culture Update: Jeanette Mcurdy (is that how you spell her name¿ I definitely messed that up) released a book and she basically talked about how much she resented Ariana Grande to the point where she heard a song of hers play on the radio and she started bawling her eyes out. Not Ariana’s fault obviously but Nickelodeon basically forced her to turn down movie roles because of her Sam and Cat contract but would let Ariana miss weeks of work for singing. It’s really sad when you think about it.
November/December plans: I was thinking of getting tickets to go see Celtics/Bulls game in November at TD Garden and I’m 90% down to send it but no one ask to go with me unless you’ll drop the $400 now. You already know I’m so petty that I’ll go by myself and watch the Bulls lose. I’m also down for the Celtics/Heat game in December, but I don’t have a grudge against the Heat. Serious inquiries only.
Amendment: I actually went to buy the tickets but I couldn't find my debit card so now I'm impulsive AND upset. Will try again tomorrow.
Catherine Update:
Friend update: 7 is sick, Thomas and X are probably fine. Kiersten is headed to the cape this week. Anthony and X might live together. X is still so sexy. Kelvin listened to 2 hours of Taylor Swift with me this weekend. Mina has my glycolic acid toner and probably will never use it (I recommend that he does). Kelli is living with her boyfriend. Catherine might go see Alesso tmr. Fiona quit her job (congratulate her). Lynn saw The Weeknd in Dallas, she’s also a reels girlie. Tyler now has an apartment in Chicago and has a blanket and his couch ready for me. Mina Shehata is doing well, I miss him dearly, does anyone remember the first email I sent out (the one with the Holiday Muffin recipe), I’m still so touched that he chose to use that recipe and made it to top two in his baking competition.
Anniversary : Happy Three Years, Pat and Sierra!
Song on repeat: Butter by BTS but the Meg Thee Stallion remix. Listen to it, you will not regret it.
Availability this week: High chance of 7 and I going to dinner with Thomas and X this Friday, also high chance of us being on a boat. Kiersten is free this week so assume that the girls are raging this weekend (Saturday) Everyone is welcome to come. I can send a follow up email about location/where we go. Wednesday & Thursday are looking like I’m going home (considering I haven’t been home since last Tuesday) and I’m pretty sure my dad misses me. I work remote on Friday and that means I’m either taking the early morning bus in OR driving into the city after my 4:30 call OR I may not be allowed to leave my house..stay tuned.
Best,
Shefali Patel
Follow up questions:
Do I have a loud voice? I was with a man and he said I did and I'm not gonna lie...that shit hurt my feelings so bad I almost shut up for the rest of the night.
What's worse, homewrecker or homie-hopper? Like from the perspective of the person being homewrecked and the homie that got hopped on. I personally say homie-hopper because imagine your best friend fucked your boyfriend/girlfriend.. that's fucked...could never be me...ever.
Keep in mind you would be responding to the chain so don’t blow my spot if you can help it. I would really appreciate keeping my dignity if I could.
What to expect: weekly to biweekly emails regarding things that matter to me including but not limited to bad jokes, an update on plans, current events, and my personal favorite new recipes and places to check out!
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Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave
AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.
Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.
So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:
Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.
Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.
He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.
(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)
(This is a very helpful conversation.)
BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."
Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.
It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.
Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).
The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.
About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.
Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."
Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.
The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.
The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.
Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.
And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?
He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"
And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.
And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."
Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."
Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"
And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.
"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."
Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."
And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.
These are his friends' lives.
His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.
And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.
Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."
Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...
Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.
(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)
Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”
Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.
Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.
Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.
Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?
At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.
Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.
(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)
(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine
Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general
Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)
(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)
#Anakin Skywalker#Sheev Palpatine#Jedi High Council#Mace Windu#fix it fic#star wars#star wars prequels#Phoenix Posts#Padme Naberrie
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Black Curls pt. 2
Part One
Kuroo x female!reader
Sakusa x female!reader
Genre: Angst and fluff
Warnings: Pregnant! reader, mentions of pregnancy complications, C-section, labor, no gore or intense description just mentioned in passing.
Kuroo loves being a dad. He loves being a parent. Getting to watch his son grow has been the most wonderful experience of his life. Seeing his personality develop amazed him. But he was also a mushy idiot. He missed the baby stage. He missed when his son was an infant with that addictive new baby smell. The late nights, nasty diapers, and even constant crying were something he missed. Sure, he loved how fun his son was now that he could do more but the more he could do the less he needed Kuroo. Your son was only four, but Kuroo already felt like he was getting left behind.
So he was ecstatic to have a second child. It was going to be the best of both worlds. A new baby to love and adore, while also getting to raise his first child. He felt like his heart was going to explode every time he saw an ultrasound of his second child. How could he handle so much love?
He also loved watching you be pregnant. You were so beautiful, also so excited for the new baby. Kuroo loved rubbing your swollen belly and holding your hair back during morning sickness. Sure, he felt useless at times but this pregnancy there was more for him to help with. No, he couldn’t help you grow the baby but he could watch your son and keep the chores done. There were some burdens he could make sure you didn’t have to carry.
Now the baby was coming, a week earlier than planned, and he was scrambling for a sitter. Thank god your brother Shoyo offered to help. He had even offered to skip his MSBY practice but Kuroo insisted that it was best to keep your son distracted. This was going to be a long labor, besides his son loved these practices.
“Daddy don’t go! Stay and watch with me!” The boy clung to his father’s calves.
Kuroo squatted down and cooed at him, “Hey bubs, listen I have to go and help Mommy get your new sibling. Aren’t you excited to meet them?”
This set the child off, he was so excited to be a big brother. He vigorously nodded, practically vibrating with excitement. Then he immediately ran off to go tell all the players he was going to be a big brother. Hinata followed him, just as excited to make the announcement as well. Kuroo stood up to go after them, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Kuroo turned to see Sakusa Kiyoomi staring at him with worry in his eyes.
Sakusa was your last ex before Kuroo, your only ex but still your ex before him. Kuroo was aware that Sakusa was still in love with you and you both tried to navigate it delicately. Sure, Kuroo was petty and would’ve loved to rub your relationship in his face, but he didn’t have it in him to be cruel.
“What’s up man?” Kuroo sighed, peeking over his shoulder to see his child talking to Meian who was listening intently to whatever story the kid was telling him.
Sakusa shifted a bit on his feet but kept eye contact as he blurted out, “Is she ok? I thought the baby wasn’t due until next Wednesday.”
Kuroo met his gaze. Worry and sadness were written all over his face. Kuroo wanted to say that your wellbeing was none of his business, but he just couldn’t be an ass when Sakusa looked so upset.
“There are some complications and she might have to have a C-section but the baby is fine and she will be too,” Kuroo’s voice was dry as he gave out as little information as he could.
Sakusa frowned. Sure, he cared that your baby was safe and healthy, but he cared more about whether you were safe and healthy. He’d seen how excited you were for this second child, but he didn’t want it to come at the expense of your wellbeing. Before he could ask more however, Kuroo turned and went to bid your son goodbye.
Kuroo bent down and engulfed his boy in a hug. He sniffed the back of his head to calm himself. He was nervous. Your first pregnancy had gone so smoothly and the second pregnancy was supposed to be easier. He just wanted everything to be ok. He hated this part; the delivery, the hospital, the helplessness he felt as he watched you endure so much pain that he would take on tenfold if he could.
His son pulled away and grabbed his father’s face to give him a forehead kiss. Kuroo laughed, some tears falling. He couldn’t believe just how sweet his son was, it was all your influence on him.
“I promise to be a good boy,” He held out his tiny pinky finger.
Kuroo just pulled him back into a hug, smothering his face in kisses. The boy squealed and giggled in delight. Kuroo finally pulled away, with one last kiss and head sniff.
He gave Hinata the bag with all his favorite toys and snacks to keep him occupied. Hinata gave his brother-in-law a big hug and told him to keep them updated on how you were doing.
With that, Kuroo was off and practice was started.
It was hard for Sakusa to focus. His mind was on you, as it usually was lately. These past nine months were hard for him, not that it was about him. He just hadn’t seen you during your first pregnancy because he wasn’t in your life at the time. Now though, he was on the same team as your little brother so he saw you much more. Honestly, at first he’d considered transferring to save his heart but seeing you was a breath of fresh air. Sure it hurt like hell that you weren’t his anymore, but you were still you. And you made him happy; whatever your relationship to him was. You two becoming acquaintances made him feel slightly more whole again.
Seeing you pregnant was hard though. He’d never wanted kids, and it was somewhat of a point of contention throughout your dating. But seeing you pregnant made him want all of that more than he’d wanted anything before. You were glowing. You seemed so happy and beautiful.
Sakusa’s wandering mind made him lose focus and take a ball to the face. Coach benched him since his nose was bleeding, telling him to take the time to clear his head as well. Sakusa went and sent in the bleachers reluctantly. The last thing he wanted to do right now was sit and be in his head.
He sat a few benches up and tried to relax. Your son was on the first bleacher, kneeling on the gym floor with his back to the practice as he used the bench as a desk to color. His faced was screwed in concentration as he tried his best to stay in the lines. Sakusa couldn’t help but smile at the sight. God, he still looked just like you. Seeing the kid grow hurt because he was a physical manifestation of the time separating you two. He’d gotten so big.
Tears started to form in the little boy’s eyes as serving practice started. Sakusa frowned at this. Your son tried to cover his ears to drown out the loud banging of the balls on the court. Sakusa waved at him to get his attention. Your son lit up as Sakusa waved him to come up to sit by him. He still idolized Sakusa, thinking the spiker was just the coolest player to ever live. Sakusa pulled his noise cancelling headphones out of his bag and adjusted to make them as small as possible. He offered them to your son.
Your son smiled and put them on, sighing in relief at the quiet they brought. Sakusa picked up his phone and opened spotify and held it out to him. The kid frowned at the app and Sakusa realized he was probably too young to read or type. He mimed pushing one ear off and your son did it back.
“Do you want me to put on any music for you?” He asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. He didn’t really know how to behave around children, but the boy looking up at him with your face calmed his anxiety about it a bit.
“My Mommy says you were her friend,” He smiled a big cheesy grin, obviously ecstatic about this information.
Sakusa frowned, this was one reason kids threw him off; they didn’t know how to converse properly but he tried to just go with it, “Oh well we were. We were very good friends for a long time.”
“She said you were very nice to her, and Daddy even said you were too nice.”
Sakusa smiled at knowing you’d had conversations with your son about him. He wanted to interrogate the boy and get every ounce of information about how you thought of him, but he knew that wasn’t right. Just the fact that you had said he was nice to you was enough to warm Sakusa’s heart.
“Well she was very nice to me too. Now what music do you like to listen to?”
Your son put his hands on his cheeks, squishing them as he frowned in thought. It seemed a hard question for him to answer. Sakusa didn’t like the way his heart felt like it was going to explode at how cute your son was being. He was trying to fight his brain to not daydream anymore about your son being his, it was inappropriate.
Your son gasped in delight and leaned in to whisper as if he was telling Sakusa a very important secret, “My Mommy always plays me Moana.”
He smiled, chuckling, “Moana it is.”
He found the soundtrack easily and hit play. Your son crawled up to sprawl himself across Sakusa’s lap. Sakusa froze, internally panicking. However, feeling the small body so trustingly snuggled into him made his arms adjust to hold him on their own. Your son rested his head on Sakusa’s chest as his hand supported his neck. His little feet dangled off Sakusa’s thigh, swaying slightly to the music playing. His little fists latched onto Sakusa’s jersey as he cuddled closer.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was a stoic, awkward man who wasn’t too fond of touch. But here he was wrapped around this little boy’s finger. He wanted to cry. He’d never felt more like a good person than he did knowing this child trusted him so much.
“I wish I had my little sibling already,” Your son sighed, tears beginning to run down his cheeks again.
Not knowing where this paternal instinct came from, Sakusa scratched the back of his head and said soothingly, “You’ll see them soon. It will all be ok.”
The boy nodded and began to doze off in his arms. Sakusa stared down at the tiny face. His black curls were beginning to grow just past his ears, and Sakusa wanted to run his hand through them. From his cheeks to his nose, his face was still a perfect replica of yours. Again, Sakusa thought of how easily your child with him could have looked just the same. But no, Sakusa was no longer wishing you two had a child of your own together if it meant this little boy wouldn't have come to be. As much as he wished he was the boy’s father, he was starting to love him just the same. He was just so sweet and so you.
Hinata frowned at his nephew cuddling his sister’s ex-boyfriend. It’d been weird for him when Sakusa took a sudden interest in Shoyo as soon as you two broke up. When you were with Kiyoomi, he’d only ever regarded Hinata as someone he had to interact with but now he genuinely tried to get along with him. He couldn’t help but feel it was all just to get back with you, as the conversations often turned to ask how you were doing. Hinata didn’t hate Sakusa, but he knew you were never going to get back together with him. Especially not with how happy Kuroo made you. And Hinata would always want you to be with whoever made you happy.
Shoyo went up to them during the next water break. Sakusa glared at him and nodded towards the tiny sleeping figure he was holding, indicating Shoyo to be quiet.
“He’s my nephew, give him here,” Shoyo glared and took your son easily from Sakusa.
He gently shook him awake and took off the headphones. Your son fussed at first, then settled into his uncle’s arms once he realized it was him.
“Hey buddy wake up, your dad is texting me, don’t you want to hear about your sibling?” Hinata cooed, bumping the boy’s cheek with his nose to elicit a giggle.
Sakusa stood up at this, “What’s the update? Is (Y/N) ok?”
Hinata frowned at him, “Yeah she’s fine. She’s in labor now, but Kuroo said it was going smoothly”. He turned his attention back to his nephew as he bounced him exclaiming, “That means your little sibling is almost here!”
Your son woke up fully at hearing this and cheered in his uncle’s arms.
Hinata put your son back down on the first bench, and told him to stay here and watch how cool of a spiker his uncles were. Your son nodded, easily excitable, and cheered for the red head and the owl headed man who was giving him two big thumbs up from the court.
Sakusa watched more of the practice from his spot, trying his best to keep his eyes off the child a few rows in front of him. He shouldn’t be thinking so much about what your son said, but the fact that you had talked about him made him much more hopeful than he should be. You still thought of him and spoke kindly about him, and that did something to his already desperate heart.
His phone pinging distracted him. He looked down to see texts from his contact Kuroo (Creepy JVA guy) informing him that your second baby was healthy little girl. Sakusa’s heart melted at the idea of you having a daughter. You’d always teased him that you thought he’d make a good girl dad.
* * *
Kuroo lay in the hospital bed next to you as you held your sleeping daughter in your arms. His heart felt like it had doubled. He’d sobbed when he first held your son, wondering how he could ever love something as much as the little infant boy looking up at him. Now he had another baby to love just as much. She was absolutely beautiful. It took his breath away to see her.
He’d just finished sending off announcement texts to everyone he could think of when his fingers hovered hesitantly over Sakusa’s contact info. He sent him a quick text saying It’s a girl, she’s healthy and happy just like Mom. He sighed and set his phone on the side table.
You struggled to tear your eyes away from your darling little girl but managed to look up at your sweet husband who began scratching your scalp.
He kissed your forehead as he whispered, “You did so amazing. Thank you for giving me two adorable children.”
You giggled, “We do make some cute babies, huh?”
Kuroo smiled, all thoughts of exes and the past gone from his mind as he looked at his future in your eyes.
“We really do, mostly because they look like you,” He smirked.
You looked back down at the sleeping newborn and leaned your head back against his shoulder. Kuroo looked down at his girls, thinking the only thing that would make this perfect was your son being there too. His family felt whole, his life felt whole now. He couldn’t wait to see this girl grow. He couldn’t wait to be a dad again.
A/N: Please let me know what you think. I hope this didn’t ruin Black Curls Part One for anybody, I feel iffy about this as a part two. I enjoyed writing Dad!Kuroo and wanted to show more of that than the first part did, but let me know what you think.
#Kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsuro imagine#kuroo tetsuro fluff#kuroo x reader#kuroo fluff#kuroo imagine#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyu!! fluff#haikyuu!! angst#haikyuu!! imagine#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#haikyu angst#haikyu imagine#hq!! x reader#hq x reader#sakusa kiyoomi angst#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa angst#sakusa x reader#happy belated birthday sakusa sorry to hurt you like this ilysm still
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