#“I think I could probably beat up a few toddlers”

[arollofmirrors]

Here's an excerpt from an interview Weird Al did with A.V. Club.

[qlossytbh]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞? - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 where you find yourself with immense baby fever

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 baby fever, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, reader and spencer are married, hotch x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i imagined older spence but younger jack so pretend jack is around 3 or 4 but spence is like around season 7/8 (?)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“All I’m saying, you could’ve been a little nicer,” You turned to Morgan with a rigid sigh. If he didn’t know you better, it’d probably sound like you were deeply annoyed with him, on the verge of cursing him out. He knew you were only regarding the events of today's case.

“I think you’re mixing ‘being nicer’ with tough love,” You deadpanned at your friend, earning nothing but his signature snicker.

You shook your head, feigning that of disappointment. You rolled your shoulder back, craning your neck slightly to scan the files that rested between your fingers. God, how many files could one see in a day?

It was a few hours past midday when the case came to an end. Hotch had a sudden dilemma that he needed immediate solving, so he told all of you to make it back to headquarters. You and Morgan however, had been stuck together for the day and made it back a lot earlier than the rest of the team, prompting the two of you to get some necessary paperwork done.

You needed a day off— especially from Morgan.

The bullpens doors opened unexpectedly, drawing you and Derek out of your conversation. You turned, seeing the rest of the team waltz through the glass door— only this time, they were accompanied by a pair of small legs.

You couldn’t stop a reflexive smile from growing onto your face. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jack waddled into the bullpen, one of his tiny fists bundled up onto a small section of Hotch’s dress pants. You could’ve screamed, a reaction that was becoming more necessary every time you saw a kid, and most definitely when you saw Jack.

At the sound of your cheery voice, Jack looked up, biting onto his knuckles— something you learned was a sign of his bashfulness.

But when he realized it was you who was standing next to Morgan, his face immediately morphed into one that could only portray pure and innocent child joy, looking as if he couldn’t be happier to see you. Nothing could compare to how ecstatic that made you feel, chest getting fuzzy with endearment. Hotch placed his palm onto the back of his head. “Look who it is!”

You've taken care of Jack too many times you lost count, given since you and Hotch were close— practically family. You adored Jack and found yourself being struck with some newfound motherly instinct when it came to him— or any kid for that matter. He always gave you this very violent need to squeeze his cheeks and hug him so tight he might pop.

“Is that little Jackie?” Your voice was high and welcoming, trying to hide how utterly joyed you were with seeing him and failing miserably. Jack immediately pushed himself off of Hotch’s leg and began running towards you.

Well, he more so waddled his way over to you, small feet pattering roughly against the floor as he ran over to you in an unstable line. You met him halfway, crouching down and opening your arms for him. When he was close enough, he launched himself into said arms, voice loud with giggles and shrieks. “If it isn’t my favorite boy!”

You squeezed him tightly, rising once again to your natural height and hugging the small toddler. Morgan, of course, didn’t miss a beat to taunt. “Careful, Reid’s listening.”

“Oh please,” You rested Jack on your hip, keeping strong secure arms around him while he gripped the ends of your hair curiously. “Spencer knows that Jack comes first no matter what, isn’t that right Jack?”

“Yeah!” He laughed.

Spencer couldn’t keep in a single thought as he watched you interact with Jack so naturally. It twisted his chest in weird, scary ways. If it were anyone else he’d be terrified. But it was you. And he now found his head lingering with the idea of you as a mother— the mother of his children, specifically.

It was a conversation the two of you had once, very briefly a few months after you two got married. Spencer had been meaning to get back at it, but with the chaos of your jobs it had been really hard to think about anything other than serial killer and criminals.

But fuck, if Spencer said that seeing you interact so carefully and sweetly with not only Jack but many other children that had stumbled up on these last few cases— he’d be the biggest liar on the face of this earth.

Just the thought of starting a family with you was something that filled him with anticipation. It made his chest burn. Something he craved so deeply, it sometimes left him breathless.

“You’re getting so big and strong that I’m beginning to have a hard time lifting you up.” You huffed, setting him down onto the ground and crouching beside him. “You’re gonna give me back problems.”

“Derek says it’s because you’re getting weak!” His R’s were disguised as muffles W’s, which only caused your heart to clench further. A choke disguised as a strained laugh left your mouth.

“Is that so?” You turned over to him with a glare. Morgan scratched the back of his head and turned on his heel avoiding you and your piercing gaze.

“But who’s your favorite; big old chiseled Derek, or little weak me?” You squint your eyes at the boy, pursing your lips feeling very confident in his answer.

And to no one’s surprise did Jack point towards you and with a huge, wide smile laughed out. “You!”

You laughed victoriously, holding out a palm for Jack to clap. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned.

After one last hug from the child, you ushered Jack over to Hotch, shooting an endeared smile towards him. God, you loved that kid so much.

JJ, Prentiss and Rossi made their way to the conference room. You look ahead, meeting the gaze of your husband and smiling profusely. It was a subconscious reaction your body had. You found yourself meeting Spencer halfway. “Hey,”

His hand rested on your hip as he leaned down, kissing you chastly. Spencer would’ve loved to actually take his time greeting you with a much proper kiss, but it was a middle ground the two of you found between professionalism and well— being married.

His hand, however, remained on the spot on your hip, thumb drawing circles instinctively. It was subtle, but his touch was still there. Your smile was big and lovestruck, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Hey,”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's laughter ripped through the air as Hotch lifted him up. You and Spencer turned and you swear you could almost cry.

It was as if lately, when you allowed yourself to think even slightly about the concept of children you’d combust into a pool of tears and overbearing endearment. Spencer watched you looking over at Jack and noticed something pooling beneath your eyes.

You looked back at Spencer, lips tied in a pout. “I want one.”

“A baby?” He tuned, laughing slightly at how your body sunk against his, resting your forehead on his chest in exasperation.

“Yes,” You pushed yourself off his chest, throwing your hands around as you spoke. “The small hands, small feet— I swear everytime I see a baby, I get violent.”

You pouted. “Imagine a mini us Spence,”

And Spencer did. He thought about it in such detail that he forgot it wasn’t an actual reality of his. A little girl or boy, that resembled either of you, that held so many fractions and traits of the two of you— it seemed unreal to him.

“A mini us?” He repeated. You looked up at him.

“Well— yeah,” You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about it but..”

Spencer wanted kids more than he had ever wanted anything before— but he knew that he only wanted it if it was with you. He couldn’t phantom the thought of starting a family with anyone else.

“We should,” He spoke. Your fingers played mindlessly with the bottom of his tie, looking up at him with a teasing smirk.

“We should talk about it or we should try?” A blush crept up his cheeks as his eyes widened just slightly. You always found ways to catch him off guard and you loved getting even the slightest reaction out of him.

“Uh—“ He dragged out his words, before his eyes landed back on you. “Both?”

You laughed and he smiled. He always smiled when you laughed, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. You reached down, tangling your fingers with his. “I’m serious though,”

He hummed. “So am I.”

“You actually want to start trying for a baby?” This seemed like a conversation that was far too intimate to be having in the middle of the bullpen— where you usually discussed varieties of atrocious things, but here you were I guess.

“Yeah,” He said, almost in disbelief that you had questioned it. You found yourself growing oddly shy, just thinking of a small version of the two of you running around.

Before you could continue on the subject, Morgan, who now held Jack on his shoulders, was calling you and Spencer over to the conference room. You turned to Spencer, smiling softly.

“Can we get back to this once we get home?”

“Please,” He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a longer kiss onto your lips. You grew giddy and smiled into the kiss, pulling away sooner than both of you would like.

“I love you,” You smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and  you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

[envy-of-the-apple]

LOVE the new fic. The betrayal literally made me tear up.

I was just curious would Gojo have given up on Ms. Moon if she were married or maybe had a kid.

oh fu c k such a good idea whydidn'tithinkofthis- (this got so long i am so sorry)

in the fic, ms.moon is pretty traumatized after the gojo incident to have any real relationships after.

But maybe ms.moon gets into therapy, works through the issues of intimacy. You meet someone, nice, kind. You settle down, have a kid. It'll be nice for a few years...but when gojo comes back into your life. he'll shut it down quick.

Gojo's worse than his high school self now. He might not beat your husband up, but that might be a blessing compared to the tsunami he's about to havoc on your family. Using his connections, he'll make sure your husband never finds a job in the entire city, the entire region even. He might even dig up something your husband did in his past, a small drug problem he had with highschool-something that would get swept under the rug normally, but with Gojo's scrutiny, it's about to become a lot bigger.

You could stop it. With enough begging. After you'd cry your heart out, he'd shush you, wiping away your tears, saying that he'd forgive you for your transgressions.

You'd be expected to divorce your husband. Your husband would be pretty pissed with your flimsy reasoning of 'my childhood bully isn't done with ruining my life' but then he'd remember that there is a reason the Gojo family is so big. And they don't take kindly to competitors who stand in their way. You'd understand why he lets you walk away without a fight, but a part of you wished he would have pushed more, even if the result would have remained the same.

It's your child who suffers the worst through all of this. Maybe you had a daughter. Perhaps gojo would be a bit more tolerant towards her if she looked like you but she was clearly her father's daughter. In the past, you adored it, now it's another curse for you.

You have to keep her away, for her sake. Gojo is already more than upset that you dared to start a family without him. Besides, why would you want her with you? Why would you want her to suffer under gojo's whims?

A part of you has to admit that it's also for your sake. You don't want your daughter to see you like that. Weak, rolling under that man's thumb.

She's probably just a toddler when you have to leave. She's too young to understand when you say 'mommy's going away for a while'. Maybe you'd lie to her, say that you're going overseas and when she asks if she can come with you, you'd shake your head because talking anymore would be too much because Satoru's waiting in the sleek black car right on the curb. It doesn't matter what you say, she screams and sobs the entire time.

You don't touch your ex-husband, you don't even hug because you know Satoru's watching. You just ask him to take care of her before you walk into the car, getting into the passenger seat. Your daughter's still begging you to come back. You make sure the car is out of her sight before you start sobbing.

There's a hand on your thigh, squeezing, a mocking act of comfort. You're sure Satoru's grinning.

"Aw. Don’t cry, baby," you can barely hold yourself back from slapping him, though you doubted even pain would wipe that look off his face.

The hand drifts up your thigh, playing with the hem of your pants.

"Once we have our own kids, you’ll get way too busy to think about your old one.”

[redrose10]

I’m going to be working on chapter 3 of Cold Brewed Love. I was really sick last week and then my toddler got really sick and we’ve just been a mess. But hopefully that should be out sometime soon.

…Last night I had a horrible panic attack. It came out of nowhere and was one of the worst ones I’ve had in a long time. I thought I was getting passed this but I guess not. So to get my mind off of it I wrote this. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, but just never wrote out. It’s just fluffy and funny and cute. I hope everyone likes it and maybe it’ll help someone else feel better.

I don’t have a title so if anyone has any good ideas let me know!!

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

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, kind of suggestive, anxiety, depression, jealous Yoongi, little angst, maybe bad judgements against foreigners but not in a hateful way (when writing this I did it from the view of an American who speaks English because that’s me so I apologize to others who read that may not fit that role), also fluffy dorky Yoongi

Word count: 3,702

(I included one of my all time favorite Yoongi photos because why not)

When Yoongi first got his military assignment he was less than thrilled about it to say the least. How do you go from writing hit songs while traveling the world performing for thousands of people and collecting records and awards like no one else to sitting behind a desk entering numbers into a computer for eight hours a day? But he understands the why behind the reasons he has to do this, along with knowing that it is his duty so he is committed to completing his service to the best of his ability. He gets up early in the morning pouring himself a cup of coffee before he puts on his uniform and makes the short drive to the office location.

Whether it was pure luck or a carefully calculated choice by someone in charge he was thankful to be working in a quiet building just outside of Seoul. His department was on the top floor. His desk in a back corner, by himself, somewhat hidden away from view. He could show up, do his job, and leave like nothing happened. He was content with keeping to himself, minding his own business, and not going out of his way to make friends. Of course he was polite and friendly if approached, but he was never the approacher.

And then he met you…

When his senior manager told him that he would be getting a desk partner he nodded and politely accepted the change but internally he was irritated. That irritation only grew when he found out that his new partner was a foreigner who barely spoke Korean. His mind immediately conjured up this idea that you were probably some kpop obsessed fan who moved here on a whim. The only saving grace he thought would be that due to the lack of mutual language you both would probably not be speaking much.

He got to work a few minutes earlier than usual on the day you were arriving to work with him. For some reason he wanted to beat you there feeling like he had to lay claim to his portion of the rather large desk. Your computer was already set up next to him. He sighed as he unpacked his bag and began logging in for the day.

Then you arrived. Your work uniform similar to his. You smiled and introduced yourself and then sat down and got right to work. You didn’t freak out and tell him how big of a fan you were. You didn’t even make small talk. You put in your ear buds and turned on some music and got right to work. You brought in a heavenly smell with you of vanilla and sugar. He’s sure it would be called something like Fluffy Cloud Sweet Sugar Oasis and Grandma’s Cookies or something like that if they sold it at Bath & Body works. And he was ready to buy every bottle.

When work was over for the day you told him to have a good night and packed your stuff and left. Yoongi realized this new seating arrangement wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The days went by much similar to that first day. You introduced him to your best friend Joon-Sung who worked in a different department on the second floor. The first time he met him Yoongi felt what he told himself was just some indigestion from his lunch because there was no way he was jealous of the handsome man that you so freely talked to and joked with until he heard you mention something about Joon-Sung and his new boyfriend and the indigestion somehow magically went away.

Then Yoongi noticed that he found himself feeling a little more excited each day for you to walk through that door. He also started changing his routine bit by bit. He styled his hair a little more, at least the little bit of hair that was slowly growing back after having to get it shaved. He started wearing cologne again, even buying the one he heard you mention you liked after someone walked by wearing it. His nights were spent brushing up on his English so he could better converse with you and in the mornings he started bringing you cups of hot chocolate or herbal tea after he heard you tell Joon-Sung that you were trying to lower your caffeine intake because your anxiety was getting worse.

Then his world came spiraling out of control at the realization that he might like you…like a lot. The last thing he needs right now is any kind of relationship especially with a foreigner. Like sure you were really pretty and very nice and you both communicated well even with the language barrier and you were taking Korean lessons so you were getting better. You had acclimated to living in Korea just fine. Joon-Sung often joked that you acted more Korean than most Koreans and that you were a Korean Ajumma in a young woman’s body.

Your best friend other than Joon-Sung was your 80 year old neighbor Mr.Park and his cat Mittens which lead Yoongi into remembering a story about how you and Mr. Park spent all day hand making cat toys to take to the animal shelter which made Yoongi’s heart swell with affection before he quickly shook that feeling away.

The more he thought about it the more Yoongi realized how much of your life he had grown to know and how much he looked forward to seeing you and talking to you.

And how much he talked about you outside of work.

“I don’t know man, sounds like you like her.”, Hoseok said while having a couple drinks at Yoongi’s on his day off from the military.

“I do not. She’s just nice. We have to work together. That’s all.”

“Mmmhmm sure, that’s why you haven’t stopped talking about her all night. Jimin mentioned that you even told him about her over the phone. And your ears are doing that thing.”

“What thing?,” Yoongi questioned already knowing the answer.

“You know…that thing where you ears get all red when you’re lying or embarrassed. And by how red they are I’m thinking it’s a little of both.”, Hoseok chuckled before taking a sip of beer.

Yoongi couldn’t like you. He’s only known you for a few months. He doesn’t fall that easily for anyone. He knew his last partner for three years before asking them out. He hasn’t even hung out with you outside of work yet. He had your number, but that was because you asked him for it to send over a work file you were going to complete at home. He’s never texted you outside of a thanks once he’s received it. Sure he’s opened up a blank message and attempted to text you something almost every night. That’s normal though. Right? He’s just awkward and you’re just a friend.

Then he saw you walk in for the day. You were carrying two bags of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. One bag had Joon-Sungs name on it and the other had Yoongi’s. You made him cookies. He thought his heart was going to explode.

When Joon-Sung walked in to collect his package from you he started complaining about how he was going on a date with some guy who loved basketball so now he was trying to cram full of info to try and impress him. He showed you his phone,

“Who is this?”

“That’s Lebron James.”

“Is he any good?”

“Well he’s the highest scoring player in NBA history, he’s top 10 in steals and assists, and has four championships so yeah you could say he’s pretty good.”

“Okay and what team does he play for?”

You sighed, “He was drafted by the Cleveland Cavaliers in 2003 then he went to the Miami Heat for a while and then back to Cleveland and now he’s with the Lakers.”

Yoongi listened as you rattled off basketball facts like nothing with his eyes wide.

Fuck I think I love her, he thought to himself.

Yoongi tried his best to push any thoughts he was having about you far out of his mind. But you were all he thought about. How good you smelled next to him. How sweet your voice sounded saying his name. How you would feel underneath him with his body pressed against yours…

Realizing he was about to really embarrass himself at work he quickly started thinking about that time he accidentally saw his mom in her underwear instead hoping to change the direction of his thoughts but because his brain seemed to hate him his thoughts wandered back to what you would look like in this black lace number he saw was being released by some high end lingerie brand. Maybe he could buy it for you as a gift. Or would that be weird? Quickly he excused himself needing to get up and get a distraction.

When he returned to his desk Joon-Sung was gone and you were typing away at your computer.

“Hey can I ask you a question?”, you said, “I hope I’m not going to make things weird between us.”

Yoongi froze. Did you notice? Could you read minds? Oh my God Yoongi that’s so stupid, people can’t read minds. He was so in his thoughts he forgot that you had asked him a question until he saw you staring back at him.

“Of course, go ahead.”, he managed to squeak out.

“So Joon—Sung is having a party this weekend. He wanted me to ask you to come. It’s nothing big. He does them every few weeks. He’s just social like that.”

Yoongi’s not sure if he’s relieved that you’re not some mind reader or if he’s hurt that you’re only asking him to come because someone else told you to and not that you actually want him there.

But he agrees to go regardless because he wants to spend time with you.

Yoongi doesn’t like to judge people but he’s a little shocked to find out that Joon-Sung lives in one of the fanciest most elite apartment complexes in Seoul. Something about having family money so he works mostly to give himself something to do. Yoongi admits he’s a little impressed and also a little jealous.

He came prepared with topics to talk about. He researched the bands he always sees you listening to even though most really weren’t his style. He looked into your home city so he could ask you questions. And if all else fails he can rely on basketball as a speaking point. He can’t remember the last time he put this much effort into getting to know someone.

He takes off his shoes and walks into the main living area and immediately starts scanning the room for you. He spots you right away.

He takes a moment to look you over. The dress you’re wearing is much shorter and tighter than your normal work outfit. It accentuates every one of your curves perfectly. He sees what he thinks is a thigh tattoo poking out the bottom. He wants to see more of it. You look so good and he can feel his temperature rising. Fuck Yoongi get it together. You’ve been acting like some deprived horny teenager he thinks while making a mental note to call his doctor. Maybe his hormones are out of whack or something. This isn’t normal for him to feel like this around someone.

He watches as you’re happily talking to some guy. Some guy who’s like ten feet tall and made of pure muscle and looks like he was ripped out of beauty magazine. Maybe that is your type. Maybe he should introduce you to Jungkook. At least then he’d still get to see you after his service is up because you’d clearly not be interested in someone like him.

You’re laughing at something the guy said while placing your hand on his bicep.

Well this is something Yoongi never thought about. He was so consumed in his feelings for you that he never stopped to think about whether or not you liked him too or if you were even available. What if you’re already seeing someone? What if you’re happily married with two kids? He never asked you about your relationships since it felt too personal at the time. He feels like the room is spinning as he is trying to find another route when he hears you calling his name.

You walk over and wrap your arms around him in a hug, “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

He smiles feeling some relief as you lead him to the kitchen to get a drink and something to eat.

You’re both eating a piece of pizza when you ask him a question.

“This is random but do you have a nickname? I mean besides Suga or Agust D of course.”

He shakes his head.

“You look like a Yoongles. Has anyone ever called you that?”

“A few fans have online but that’s it.”, he chuckles.

“Well I think it suits you. Or maybe Yoongily Boongily Bear.”

“Okay” he snorts trying to fake indifference but in that moment he realized that he’d let you call him Captain Dumbass if you wanted to just so he could see your smile and hear your giggle again.

Yoongi had gone to talk to one of your other co workers for a while to give you a break from him since you’d been attached at the hip. He was coming back from the bathroom when he noticed you were nowhere to be found.

Did you leave already? And without even saying goodbye. That hurt a little more than he wanted it to. He didn’t get the chance to ask you about your hometown. Now he’s stuck with all these useless facts about some city he’s never even been to.

Just as he was about to give up and head home someone moved the large curtain hanging against the window and he recognized your figure leaning against the balcony outside. Slowly he made his way there.

“I thought you left.”, he said when you turned to look at him after hearing the door open.

“No it was just getting to people-ish in there, I needed a break.”

Yoongi felt bad for intruding on your space.

“Oh I’m sorry. I’ll go back inside.”

He felt electricity shoot through his body after you grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the railing, “No stay. I like spending time with you.”

He felt his heart skip.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments while staring down at the vast city below.

“I like to look out at the city when I’m overwhelmed or when my anxiety gets too much.”, you suddenly spoke, “I like watching the lights, seeing all the people move around. Some going to work, some coming home. Couples going on dates. Some people are down there having the best day of their life while others are having the worst. It’s comforting in a weird way.”, you chuckled, “To know you’re not alone out here in the world.”

Yoongi looked you over quietly. He didn’t know you struggled so much with anxiety and feelings like that. He knew you had anxiety which is why he never got you anything with a lot of caffeine, but he thought it would just make your heart race or something. He didn’t know you suffered so harshly from it. You always seemed to calm and put together. He felt a strong urge to just wrap you in a big fluffy blanket and give you a kitten to hold as he cuddled you close while telling you it’ll all be okay.

“It’s funny actually. I never really listened to your music before I met you.”

Yoongi gasped dramatically acting extremely hurt.

You giggled, “I know. I mean I knew of you guys and such but it wasn’t really my thing. But when I found out I was going to be working with you I wanted to know about your music and having something to talk about with you. Honestly I went into it not having high expectations.”

Now Yoongi was genuinely a little hurt but he knew everyone was entitled to their own opinions and feelings and that’s why music was so great.

You continued, “I was taken back by how real your music was. How full of emotion and the raw feelings you conveyed. Your song The Last, man I cried after hearing that. To see someone struggle as much as you did with mental health issues and still come out on top even though you had to fight for it. It gave me hope. Maybe one day I’ll be okay too.”

Yoongi thought about every funny scenario he could. That time Jin shoved an entire donut in his mouth and then accidentally coughed it all over Namjoon’s face or that time his brother slipped on some ice and conveniently landed right in a giant puddle of dirty water like he was in a cartoon. Anything to stop himself from crying in front of you.

“Then I listened to Snooze. And that song has become like my anthem. Any time I feel the walls closing in on me or I think I can’t do it any more I play that one and I can feel the gray clouds being pulled away and the sun shining down.”, you chuckled, “You have got to introduce me to WooSung by the way.”

Yoongi laughed with you but deep down he knew he was NEVER introducing you to WooSung unless it was at your wedding after you’d already exchanged vows and kissed and you were officially Mrs. Min Yoongi. Then MAYBE he might let you meet him…from across the room…over video chat.

“I’m glad my music could help you so much. Any time I hear something like that it gives me the motivation to keep going too.”, he said not really sure how to comfort you in that moment.

“How did you do it?”

He look at you confused.

“How did you heal yourself?”

Yoongi found himself chuckling. Not because he thought it was a funny question or anything but he never thought he’d be answering questions like that.

“I mean I don’t know if I’ll every be fully healed. At first I used alcohol. I’d drink until I wasn’t coherent enough to feel. Then I switched to working myself until I was so exhausted I didn’t have the energy to worry. But now I go to therapy and take medicine when it gets really bad. I use music as an escape without overworking myself. I also surround myself with people who I know are good for me. I think that’s really important.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Thank you Yoongi. For helping not only myself but also yourself and the millions of fans around the world.”

Fuck he wanted to kiss you so bad and and hold you and make sure you never felt another ounce of sadness ever again.

This conversation kind of killed the mood admittedly though. You just opened up to him about something that must’ve been difficult and he can’t just be like oh hey by the way I want to date you and hopefully do unspeakable things to you one day so do you want to go out with me? That would be really insensitive.

Instead he was going to simply invite you to hang out as friends, offer to be your support and see where it goes from there.

“Hey Y/N…”

Just then the door swung open and a very drunk Joon-Sung came stumbling out.

“There you are. I looked everywhere for you guys. I figured you were blowing him in the bathroom already.”

Yoongi choked on his spit and felt his entire body heat up at that statement.

“Did you tell him how you love him and you think he has the prettiest eyes and the nicest smile and the cutest little butt?”

“Go.to.bed.Joon-Sung.”, you hissed.

“Alright alright, but if you two are gonna fuck use the spare bedroom. I paid too much for my couch for there to be naked ass cheeks on it.”, he slurred before stumbling back inside.

You turned back around and continued to stare out at the city below. Yoongi thought you were handling this well. If it was him he would’ve already jumped over the railing from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered when he came up next to you, “I didn’t want you to find out like that. It’s gonna be weird between us now. Monday morning I’ll ask for them to reassign me to a new department.”

“Y/N”

“Hell I’ll even move out of the city.”

“Y/N”

“I’ve heard Busan is nice.”

“Y/N”

“Just please don’t write a song about me. I don’t think I can recover knowing my most embarrassing moment is being retold on stage as seven guys do some extreme choreography while wearing coordinating outfits.”

Y/N!”

Finally he got your attention. He couldn’t help but smile at how flushed you were.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

He used the new boost in confidence from knowing that you liked him too to take a step closer to you. So close he could feel the warmth of his breath bouncing back off of your skin.

“Y/N…Can…I…Kiss…You?”

You didn’t say anything but nodded which was all he needed to lean in placing his lips on yours. It’s cheesy but he felt like fireworks were going off. His senses were overloaded with you. That familiar sweet vanilla perfume you always wear. The softness of your lips. The taste of the pizza and hard cider you had earlier. It made him feel like he could fly.

“So you think I have a cute butt huh?”, he smirked against your lips.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going to remember?”

He stepped back putting his hands up in defense, “Hey listen, you don’t even want to know the things I’ve thought about your butt over the last couple months.”

“Yeah well maybe you can show me instead then huh.”, you smiled pulling him in for another kiss.

“I would be happy to”

[jogetsobsessed]

Little Life - Paul Lahote

It was a seasonably warm day as the sun shone through the canopy of the towering evergreens. The buzzing of honey bees darting from flower pot to flower pot and the rustling of squirrels running along tree branches. 

The small laughter and water splashing added to the forest's serenity. Hissing came from the grill as burgers and hot dogs were flipped. The sound of a soccer ball being passed back and forth and PG trash talk mixed with the Sunday afternoon melody. 

The creaking of the old porch swing, one that held so many core memories for so many different people creaked as your feet pushed against the old floorboards of Emily's front porch. 

Gazing out past the porch steps and into the vast front yard you couldn't help but smile when your daughter erupted into a fit of giggle as her dad cupped his hand and poured a small amount of water on her head. 

The wobbly water table was gifted to you and Paul from another young couple on the reservation after their son outgrew it. There was no doubt in your mind that it was gifted to them as well. You were probably the sixth or seventh family to own it. The years of usage were evident as the paint faded after spending long summers baking outside in the stuffy heat. But it didn't matter to your little girl. 

Since the rain had begun staying away and the temperatures started to pick up, the pack had gotten back into the routine of the weekly family-style barbecues. Today was the first day that it had been warm enough to break out the old water table and your daughter was jumping up and down with excitement when she saw Paul loading it up in the back of the pickup. 

You watched as she talked Jared and Kim's ears off and as they nodded along probably having no idea as to what the two-year-old was talking about. Paul pushed himself off the ground, leaving your daughter to talk about her nonsense, and strode towards you. 

Emily decided to go and find Sam at the grill to inquire about how much longer lunch was going to take, leaving the other half of the porch swing empty. She and Paul shared soft smiles as they passed each other on the front step. 

“Don't tell Em, but I think Kim has her beat for a favorite aunt,” you laughed at his statement. No matter how much your daughter loved Kim, she was always going to love Emily just a little bit more. Those two had been connected since you and Paul showed her off to the pack when she was just a few days old. Emily offered to be her babysitter when she found out you wanted to go back to work once your baby girl had hit eight months old. Which was an offer you and Paul gladly accepted, feeling at ease at the thought of your girl in the caring hands as special as someone like Emily. 

“Kim can butter her up all she wants but there is no way,” he laughed, this time wrapping his arm around your shoulder. His warmth brought you happiness and comfort even in the warm summer months. “What even is she talking about I don't know if I have ever seen Embry so confused". 

“I think she’s trying to tell them that story we read last night, but you know it's coming out of a two-year-old mind, one who fell asleep before she even heard the ending”. 

“Oh boy". 

-----------

“Sweetheart you need to come eat something”, you called over to where your daughter was still standing in the grass, playing with her toys in the shallow water of the play table. 

You saw her physically recoil at the thought of not playing so she could eat lunch and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Why did toddlers have to be so defiant? 

After calling out to her a few more times you looked over at your husband who was standing at the grill with Sam, your pleading eyes burning holes into his. 

You watched as he pushed off the grill and waltzed over to the water table, crouching to your daughter's height. 

Everyone was invested in this battle between her and the two of you all of them turned from their spots at the picnic tables so they could see if Paul was going to be victorious. 

Your daughter seemed to be putting up a good fight, even cocking her hands on her hips as she tried to reason with her dad. But luckily, Paul knew how to resist the puppy dog eyes. 

After a long standoff, you could see your daughter starting to cave once she saw Emily come outside with a platter of freshly baked famous brownies. A few of the boys saw it, so they each grabbed a couple and threw them on their plates, talking loudly about how they wanted to eat the whole platter. 

That was enough for your little girl. She set her toys down and stretched her arms up towards Paul. Triumphantly, he picked her up and carried her towards the picnic tables, where you had a plate of pre-cut food waiting for her. 

“You need to eat your lunch, and then you can have a brownie that your aunt Emily just made. 

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

The day faded into night as the cotton candy sunset faded into darkness. The glow of the fire lit up the front yard at Emily’s and provided enough warmth to ward off the brisk early summer nights. 

With great force, you had convinced your daughter to trade her polka-dot swimsuit for a light sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

Now she was sitting on Emily's lap, Sam helping her make another s’more. You knew all that sugar was powering her awake since she had skipped her nap earlier in the day. She had to have been exhausted, you knew that more likely than not Paul was going to be carrying her inside once you got back home. 

“How’d we get so damn lucky?” you and Paul were snuggled under a blanket the log the two of you were sitting on was just perfect in size for the pair of you. The clear night sky had caught your eye so you only hummed in response. No matter how many years you lived in the great Pacific Northwest, you would never get tired of its beauty. “More importantly, what did I do to deserve this perfect little life? I've got the most drop-dead gorgeous wife on the plane and the most perfect daughter”. 

“Yeah, I don't know how you swung that how much did you have to bride the big guy upstairs”, you cackled at your joke as Paul chuckled and pulled you closer. 

“You know your something huh”. 

“Says you”. 

You shared a nice moment of comfortable silence as both of you watched your daughter bounce around from pack member to pack member victoriously showing off the s’more that she assembled with the help of her favored aunt. 

“You wanna know something”, you questioned, your eyes never leaving your daughter. 

“What”. 

“I'm glad I get to live this little life with you”. 

[bad268]

hooray! maybe you could do about their acl injury recovery journey together, or them winning a trophy (in their respective leagues) and celebrating together, or fans finding out about their relationships + their reactions. those are just a few ideas x

Snapshots (Pablo Gavi X Barca! Reader)

Every Step of the Way universe

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Clearly (AHHH I LOVE THEM I LOVE THIS)

Warnings: None

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 1662

Summary: Snapshots of Gavi and Y/n's recovery

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

Recovery

Recovery is a strange thing. Half of the time they spent thinking they would never be able to step on the pitch again. Other times were spent thinking they were SO ready to get back to playing. Usually, it would alternate days as if the universe was saying, “Hey you’re doing great!” and then immediately switching sides.

Her recovery was different from Gavi’s entirely. The tear on her ACL was substantially more serious than his. The fact that her injury occurred a month prior did help in her favor because they were almost on the same healing schedule at that point. They took their first steps together, walked onto the grass together, and were cleared to play within days of each other.

Most of their days were spent in the same cycle. Rehab and not fucking up their legs any more than they already did. There was one day when they both thought it would be okay to gently kick a ball back and forth while sitting. However, neither midfielder remembered how competitive the other was.

“That was so close!” She shouted as she moved around in her chair after the futbol hit the leg of the chair before rolling to the side. “I was this close!”

“How could you miss that?” Gavi teased as he stretched his good leg to get the ball back in front of him. “I wasn’t even watching.”

“Oh shut it,” She seethed in joking rage as he kicked the ball with a little too much speed. She could not help it. Instincts kicked in, and she immediately used her injured leg to kick it away. Just as quickly, she regretted it. She clutched her leg as she let out a curse, “Shit!”

In response, Gavi moved to help her and consequently learned just how much pain she was in as he put pressure on his leg. That was when they both knew it would be a difficult recovery.

First Steps

Their first steps were taken together. Sure, they did not look pretty, but they were together. They stood side by side holding hands until Gavi’s knee gave away, causing both of them to crash down. Neither was injured further, but it made for a funny story afterward.

The first time they were both able to make their first steps was a different story. As a joke, Y/n sat at the end of the bars that Gavi was walking between and semi-holding himself up on.

“This reminds me of when I was helping my sister teach my nephew to walk,” She joked as Gavi took cautious steps toward her.

“Did you just compare me to a toddler?” Gavi snapped back in disbelief. “I’d like to see you try it! It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“I’ll gladly show you up,” She laughed, standing up and swapping places with him with the help of their physical therapist. “Watch and learn, baby.”

Her first steps did not look perfect by any means, but they were first steps without the bars holding her up. They looked better than Gavi’s attempts, and that was all that she cared about.

“This shit is easy peasy, pumpkin peasy, pumpkin pie, motherfucker!” She laughed as she flopped down onto the chair as soon as Gavi stood up to try again. “Beat that.”

“What was that? Three steps?” Gavi teased as he briefly kissed her lips before turning around and walking four steps away from her without the bar. Then, he turned around and smirked at her, “I think I beat your record.”

First Game Back

It was the same situation for the two of them Their teams wanted them to sideline them for an extra few matches as a precaution. The two midfielders had some objections, but ultimately, it was probably for the best.

The first game back for Y/n was in Barcelona. She did not make any sort of announcement about her return to the green. She just let the journalists pick up on her walking into the stadium and let it all go out naturally. Her socials began flooding with mentions and support as soon as the pictures dropped.

It felt good to be back with her team. Sure, they all hung out outside of the game, but it was just a different feeling being on the grass with them. 

Neither of the midfielders were playing. They were to sit on the bench and be cheerleaders basically. It was funny. Not something either player wanted, but it was the closest they could get to being on the field and playing.

Plus, they got to cheer on their friends. What’s not to love about supporting their friends? There was also a multitude of videos and edits of them doing the same things from their respective games. Some fans put the two clips side-by-side to show the similarities. 

One in particular was when Pedir and Y/n’s closest friend scored a goal in their games, and both Gavi and Y/n jumped up to congratulate them. However, they both jumped on their legs wrong and sent a jolt up their leg. Like clockwork, both players immediately felt the effects, and slowly sat back down.

First Goal

For the first few games back, both teams were afraid to pass the ball to Gavi and Y/n. It was not because they thought they were not ready. They were just scared the two would get injured once again. Every member of the team saw the flashbacks of their valued midfielders, and they would always hesitate to pass the ball their way.

That is, until the semi-finals. Both teams made it, and they were fighting their own battles. Yn’s team was about to draw. Both teams had been incredibly competitive, and neither team was able to get a goal in. Y/n knew they could not end in a draw. If they did, their team was sure as out of the cup.

Y/n decided to do a semi-risky move and took off down the field. She ran away from the opponents just as one of her teammates gained control of the ball. Y/n was the only one open, so the team held their breath as the ball was passed to her. Just like before her injury, she took off with the ball and got it into the net without anyone catching her.

Y/n did not even realize the time had run out as her teammates swarmed her and the fans stormed the field. Her goal secured their spot in the finals. It was not until Gavi grabbed her and lifted her off the ground that she noticed everyone around her. That goal went down in history.

Gavi’s first goal, on the other hand, had a slightly funnier take. It was not like his team did not have faith in him. He was nervous to screw up. He was throwing every single one of his practice shots, and the team was starting to get worried. They needed him in this game, and if this was how he was performing, they were screwed. Gavi ended up getting pulled aside by Pedri who tried his best to give Gavi a pep talk, but it was interrupted by the start of the game.

Once he stepped foot on the turf, it was like all of his insecurities vanished. He started off strong and finished off strong with one goal and one assist. That was all he needed to get out of the slump and back into the right headspace for his team.

Not to mention, he and Y/n celebrated after their respective games back.

Back to the Grind

During the off-season, the two did not stop training. Obviously, coming off of a possible career-ending injury, they both wanted to be in peak physical condition for the start of the season. They did, however, take a small getaway right after their last matches. Fans and teammates thought of it as a celebration of the end of a good season since many of the other players also took a holiday during the same time.

Many of their teammates went to parties together, some went to see their families, and some went to just go somewhere. Gavi and Y/n, though, went alone to a remote beach. They may or may not have rented out the whole resort of villas, so they would have the privacy to just relax without the eye of the public on them. After having a very public injury and recovery, this was something they knew they needed to get back into the mindset for the incoming season.

And maybe a certain someone had something up his sleeve. Maybe something to do with how to thank a certain someone.

When they showed up at the stadium for the first time since the season ended, everyone was excited to see them. Mainly because they were off the grid for the good majority of the break, but also because a certain eagle-eyed friend spotted something shiny on their fingers. Specifically, their left ring fingers.

“Did he finally man up and propose?” Pedri teased as he pushed himself between his two friends. “He’s only been talking about it for the last - how many years?”

“Years?!” Y/n gasped, leaning forward to look at Gavi. “You’ve been planning this for years, and you waited for us both to be injured to do it?”

“I was going to do it on our anniversary, but I couldn’t really get down on my knee now could I?” Gavi replied sarcastically as he backed up, pulling Y/n with him, so Pedri was no longer between them. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his as he left featherlight kisses around her face, disregarding the sound of their combined teams. He finished off by placing one on her lips after whispering, “I’m just glad I get to have you by my side through thick and thin.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[bcolfanfic]

yard work 🌱🌻💛

everett blakely / helen. young veterans au

new to the au? this takes place post afghanistan war. nash was killed overseas, leaving behind helen and their little son wyatt. helen lives in west virginia and post war ev got stationed at a base in the area doing flight instruction.

Blakely wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the fourth time he’d come over to cut her grass since Croz had sent him the address. And the third time Helen had wound up coming outside to watch him midway through, the loose hair falling out of how she'd tied it back catching the light shining onto her porch. Wyatt was perched in her arms, saying something to her that he couldn't make out over the noise.

Wyatt who looked just like Nash, right down to the ears.

Trying to focus on the lawnmower, Blakely willed himself not to get caught up in his own head about either one of them.

Better things to think about while pushing on a lawnmower- things that didn't stand and end with someone you watched die in front of you a little over a year ago to the day.

But when he glanced up at her again a few minutes later, catching her smile as Wyatt pointed at him, the truth of the matter made his throat feel tight.

Helen had a way of making it hard not to think about her.

When he'd made the last pass of the lawn and killed the mower’s engine, he could feel her eyes on him. Brushing his hands at the grass clippings that had stuck to his clothes, he tried to put on a smile that felt normal as he approached the porch.

“Well, that’s done,” He said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably shoulda' come by sooner though, sorry about that."

Helen chuckled softly, and he found his teeth grazing his bottom lip nervously as he looked up at her. “Honestly, you’re a lifesaver. If it wasn’t for you, Wyatt and I would be living in a jungle by now.”

Wyatt reached out in his direction as she talked, opening and closing his hands, squirming a little in her arms.

“I uh, He said awkwardly, talking a small step closer at his commanding but finding himself motioning aimlessly as opposed to taking the two-year-old right off of her. “I can hold him if you-"

"Oh, he's been dying to get to you since we came out," Helen said, pushing some of Wyatt's hair out of his eyes. “Kept pointing at the lawnmower every time it moved."

She went to pass him off then, Blakely feeling clumsier than he had in some time as he took the toddler into his arms. Somehow, he didn't drop him, Wyatt fitting against him so well it made his chest tight.

He looked even more like his daddy this close, big familiar eyes looking into his.

"Can't wait to see my baby again, sir." Nash said as they walked in lock step through the sand, the dust being kicked up by their boots following them like a cloud. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, helmet straps he hadn't bothered to buckle swinging as he walked. "Hel had him up to say hi when we Skyped last night, feel like he's gotten a lil' bigger for every day I've been gone. She was sayin' he's been crawling so fast she can barely keep up with him!"

Swaying slowly where he stood, Blakely tried to focus on what was right in front of him.

“I could use an assistant y'know, you wanna pull weeds bud?" He said lightly, tickling the back of Wyatt's knee.

Helen laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure he’d love that." She said, pausing for a beat- swiping her tongue over her bottom lip before she kept talking. "I bet you're a good teacher.”

Clearing his throat again, he faltered.

“Yeah, maybe. I, uh” He paused, looking down at Wyatt and then back at her. “You know, if you ever needed more help. Around here. With stuff other than the yard... I mean, not that you need it, know you're a real capable woman, think you've been managing everything really well but-"

Helen raised an eyebrow as he rambled, her smile shifting into something a little more playful.

“Are you offering to be my handyman now?”

“I mean, I’m just," Blakely started, feeling heat crawling up the back of his neck and into his cheeks. "if you need someon- needthehelpImean.”

Helen stepped closer, her smile softening into something that made him feel soft. She reached forward to swipe something off of Wyatt's face with her thumb, fingers grazing just briefly against Blakely's shirt as her hand dropped back down.

“You're real sweet, Everett. I mean that.”

Blakely swallowed hard. “I uh- I try.”

They stood there for a moment, the space between them feeling smaller than before. Blakely looked away quickly to avoid the staring contest it felt like they were starting, trying to shake the heat working its way up the back of his neck. Heat that wasn't from the work he'd been doing in the yard.

“Well, if you ever get tired of cutting grass,” Helen said after a beat, her voice dropping just a little. “You could always join us for dinner sometime. Wyatt’s picky, but I promise I won’t make anything too scary.”

Blakely blinked, surprised, and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d love that. I’m not picky at all."

Helen laughed again, and he felt a flush in his cheeks when he realized what he'd said, alongside how ridiculous it must've sounded.

Somehow, she didn't seem deterred. “I’ll keep that in mind."

---

As he settled into the driver’s seat of his truck, he reached for his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found who he was looking for.

Crosby picked up halfway through the second ring. And as Ev had expected was demanding a run-down of every word him and Helen exchanged before he could even get a breath in.

“She invited you for dinner? Look at you, yard boy.” He crooned down the line, and Ev groaned.

“'s not, 's not like that,” He insisted, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Think she’s just being nice.”

“Yeah, and you went over there for the fourth time ’cause you have a passion for yard work.”

Ev rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't occupied with driving. He could imagine the grin Croz probably had on his face prodding him, and hated that as much as it irked him, there was another- less annoyed feeling coursing through him about it. One he wasn't sure he wanted to unpack right this second.

“You’re the one who said I should,” he countered, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Think it would be weirder if I went over to help once and just disappeared.”

“Yeah, well, I think if she’s inviting you over for dinner, she wants you to do more than pull weeds.”

“Croz, Jesus.” Ev grimaced, feeling a pang of guilt settle in his chest at the insinuation. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Nash didn’t die that long ago. Don’t be fuckin' weird bud.”

“I'm just saying, you never know.” Croz replied, not letting up. “You could always ditch the shirt next time you're doing yard work and just go from there."

Ev huffed, wishing he could reach through the phone and thwack his friend right about now.

“I’m not doing that,” he shot back, though the visualization creeped into his head anyhow. Of himself, of Helen's eyes raking over his ches-

It felt like a betrayal to even entertain.

“You’re reading way too much into this,” Ev finally said when he'd shook the thought, his voice quieter now, "I'm helping her out cause it's what he'd want. Not tryin' to make the guy roll over in his grave."

“Yeah, yeah,” Croz said, his tone softened some. “No one’s asking you to square it all right this second. But you ask me, I wouldn't write it off either.”

xxx

[gettingfrilly]

Let's talk about Eddy and empathy

Okay, so. Hand-me-down Ed.

Lotta people talk about this episode. Lotta them have the take that the boomerang unleashed Eddy's repressed nurturing side. This is a very valid interpretation when you consider the abuse Eddy has endured and all the reasons he has to repress any nurture-type feelings. But here is the thing that I think. Or don't think. I don't think Eddy represses a secret nurturing side. I think it got repressed by outside forces when he was young and squishy and moldable, and now there's not really a whole lot of nurturing in there left for him to repress himself. I truly believe the intent of the episode was to show the Eds being the opposite of who they truly are. And Eddy, truly, in my opinion, is an incredibly traumatized kid with some really unfortunate learned behaviors and underdeveloped empathy muscles that just aren't gonna fully recover.

There are two episodes I wanna talk about to back up my claim.

Ah, Dueling Eds. Who doesn't like Dueling Eds? I certainly consider it one of my favorite episodes. It's a surprisingly serious episode with a genuine look at how Eddy navigates the consequences of hurting someone. That long silence in the van with Double D? His continuing insistence that he didn't do anything? Continually asking throughout the whole episode what the hell is even going on? Mwah. Chef's kiss. I've seen a few different theories for what's going on with Eddy in this episode, but I've always felt that he genuinely has no idea what he did, why everyone's acting the way they are, and is incredibly fucking frustrated by how little sense the whole situation is makes. He knows it has to do with the fishball; he even brings it up himself when he's talking about the incident with Double D later. But he doesn't understand why that was wrong. He doesn't get how something so inconsequential in his own mind could be so hurtful to Rolf, and he is either incapable of, or refuses to acknowledge, that just because it wasn't a big deal to him, doesn't mean it can't be a big deal to someone else. (We call this ~theory of mind~ btw and it's a big component of empathy.)

Another favorite of mine, Little Ed Blue. I've talked about this scene before because I love it for a lot of reasons, and one of those reasons is the insight we get into how Eddy's emotions have probably been addressed by those around him in the past. I mean, jeez, this is Ed! He's one of Eddy's most important people! A true and dear friend he's had since he was a toddler and one of the few people in the world who outwardly likes him and gets along with him. And what does he do when Ed's having a bad day? Calls him a wuss, laughs at him, invalidates his feelings, and tells him to get over himself. This is some grade fucking A asshole behavior, even for Eddy. And yet he does it easily without a shred of guilt, convinced this is the correct way to address a friend who's in the throes of misery. I mean, just look at this face.

Has Ed ever made a face like that? His feelings got fucking hurt man. (also, as a sibling, I can say that this is categorically the most Sibling moment between Eddy and Ed in the entire show.)

IMO, someone with a repressed nurturing side wouldn't be that baffled by how Rolf is reacting or be that cruel to their own best friend. This looks more like someone who genuinely has a low amount of empathy. So what's actually going on? Do I think Eddy is just some cold, uncaring asshole? Of course not! He's a traumatized 12 year old kid who's endured intense physical abuse. Cruelty was normalized for Eddy at a very young age. Why should Rolf be so upset about a fishball? It's not like Eddy beat him or something. And what's Ed got to be so miserable about? Men shouldn't act like wusses. Men are supposed to just get over it. And how could Eddy be wrong for thinking these things? It's what he was taught, after all. He learned these behaviors from his hero, after all. This is all he knows. This is what makes sense to him. It's Rolf and Ed who are being ridiculous.

That kind of stunted growth to someone's empathy isn't something so easily fixed. This is why I don't headcanon or write a more grown up Eddy as someone who learns he doesn't have to repress his nurturing side anymore; I see him as someone who's learned that nurturing and empathy are part of the whole "having friends" deal. He's learned that nurturing and empathy are what's considered normal, learned that it's what's expected of any decent human being, man or not. He's also learned, a la BPS, that you have to be a good friend to have good friends. It doesn't come naturally to him. It's gonna take a lot of hard work and growth on his part. But even if Eddy doesn't always understand why he needs to be gentler, needs to just listen, needs to offer a shoulder to cry on, that doesn't mean he won't do it for the sake of his friends. Because even if empathy ain't his strong suit, even if being empathetic is hard fucking work, he still genuinely and wholeheartedly cares about his friends and cares about doing right by them.

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― when you said you loved me; wilbur

cw + info! minific, domestic fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader / implied burnout, fatigue symptoms

prompt! "sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me”

dedication! @ivyinnit​​

notes! again, super sorry that this is literally A YEAR late, but i’m trying to jump on this scrap of motivation that i have! i hope you guys like it :>

if you were being honest with yourself, it had been… a week. not quite bad but definitely not competing with any sunshine or rainbows. you were more than excited for the date night you and wilbur had planned at the beginning of the week. you wasted no time once you got off of work, heading home only to change into something that was not your work clothes and pack a bag before heading straight to wilbur’s apartment. you guys didn’t do date nights in like this too often, but you had enough prior experience to know that you’d probably fall asleep together on his couch and end up staying the night whether you planned for it or not, so it was pretty worth it to pack a bag. it wasn’t that far, the journey easy on your aching feet, and the route was pleasantly familiar. the sun had just begun to set when you knocked on his door with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, a pillow pet tucked under the other arm. “hello,” you greeted, tone soft and hazy, when wilbur opened the door for you. the fatigue that hung over you was nearly palpable, almost seeming to come off of you in waves. he could tell immediately by the droop of your tired shoulders the kind of week you had.

“hi, honey,” he greeted gently. set a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of your way. “why don’t you come in? you can go change into your cozies in my room if you’d like. i’m just working on dinner.”

you nodded tiredly, humming in response. your eyes stayed shut just a second too long as you blinked and wilbur gently urged you down the hallway to his room.

“if you don’t come out in ten minutes, i’m coming to check on you!” he called after you, smiling softly as he watched you shuffle along.

“sounds good,” you mumbled in return, stepping into his room, only closing the door behind you most of the way. it was fine; you knew wilbur wasn’t the type to try and sneak a peek. yawning, you pulled your clothes off, not even bothering to fold them. you enthusiastically exchanged them for comfier pajamas – a pair of red plaid pajama pants and a hoodie you’d borrowed from wilbur a few weeks ago. you had originally intended to return it, but right now you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care that far. that and you knew that he wouldn’t be super likely to have a problem with it. once you were finished, you tucked your backpack and the balled-up pile of your clothes into the corner of his room to take care of later. 

“less than ten minutes,” you announced sleepily as you trudged into his kitchen. “you don’t have to come check on me. see, i’m quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.” it was teasing and light, the most that you had the energy for at the moment. 

“i know you are,” he assured you, something about his tone fond. he stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something, a couple jars of sauce sitting on the counter beside him. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay. you seem a little sleepy is all.”

you hummed, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you, much appreciated.”

a beat as wilbur added a pinch more of salt to the water. “are you sure you can make it through a movie tonight? because i’d be more than happy to read for a little bit if you wanted to sleep after dinner.”

you shook your head, the action much resembling that of a tuckered out toddler. “no, i wanna try. i might fall asleep, but maybe we could just watch a nature documentary instead of something on our list. don’t wanna make you rewatch it later just because i fell asleep.”

wilbur huffed a laugh, light and affectionate. “i wouldn’t mind rewatching anything, you know. as long as you get the rest you need.”

another shake of your head. “nope. i vote nature documentary. something with big cats on the savanna or something like that.”

wilbur gave another laugh, nodding. “alright. nature documentary it is then,” he conceded.

then, silence. it was comfortable. the air was warm, the perfect temperature to help you relax after a long week. your head lolled to the side as you leaned against the doorframe, leaving your cheek to rest against your shoulder. it was so comfortable here. nothing felt more like home than moments like these, watching your boy be all soft and in his element. he hummed a tune to himself - something he’d probably been working on for a new song - as he stirred, occasionally putting his hand up to catch some of the steam rising from the pot. he swayed to the beat, not seeming to mind your fatigued state too much. it helped ease the guilt that you held about not being able to give him a very interesting night. moments like these helped to remind you that you didn’t need to be stellar company all the time, that he was just content to have you around.

“wilbur?” you asked, hugging yourself now.

“yes, love?” he turned to look at you over his shoulder. “do you need something?”

you shook your head lightly. “no, i was just wondering what you were making for dinner. nothin’ crazy.”

wilbur’s expression melted into a smile. “i was just gonna make some pasta with the sauce how you like it. with the tomato sauce, the alfredo, and the spinach. and i got some bread, too. does that sound alright?”

you gave him a small grin, making a sound of approval. “oh, that sounds wonderful. can’t wait.”

“i figured you would,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “it’s easy, it tastes good, and i know for a fact that you like it.”

“i do, i do,” you agreed, padding over to hug him from behind. your arms wrapped gently around his middle and you pressed your face against his back. “thank you, wilbur. i love you so much. i appreciate you tons. this all means a lot.”

wilbur tensed, making a noise of surprise. a beat of silence.

you squeezed his middle, confused at the change in energy. “wilbur, are you alright?”

“i-i-i,” he stammered, brain buffering as he struggled to process your words. “no, yeah! i-i’m fine.” he gave a self deprecating laugh, letting the wooden spoon sit in the pot for just a moment as he turned around in your embrace to face you. “sorry, i think my brain stopped for a second when you said you loved me.”

you blushed at the realization. you hadn’t meant to say it right then, but you didn’t mean it any less. it was true; you loved him, and not just for all the things he did for you. you just wished that the first time you said it to him had been a little bit more intentional than you mumbling it into the back of his tee shirt while you were half asleep.

“hey, hey,” he whispered, pulling you out of your own head. one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. “i love you too, you know. a lot, actually.”

“good.” you grinned, leaning up to press the tips of your noses together, almost a bunny kiss. “because i mean it, soot.”

he hummed, content. “i mean it too.”

you hummed back, happy to rest against him like this forever.

his thumb grazed over your cheek before he pulled away, cheeks red and smile soft. “sorry to ruin the moment, but i’m gonna try and finish this pasta before you fall asleep on me. does that sound alright?”

you nodded, forehead against his back as he turned around to face the stove again. “love you, wil,” you mumbled again, this time through a yawn.

he laughed softly at the admission, his free hand finding one of yours that was still clasped around his middle. he held it, thumb grazing comfortingly over the back of it. “i love you too.”

[wonderful-magician]

What if

I wanted to rant about Electra

And did

Okay a lot of this ranting is just made up nonsense! ( Obv based off the musical itself ) I'm rewriting the musical to my tastes and would like to actually discuss the characters more than the musical is able too. This is more like a TV show set-up to be honest.

Okay main point I want to get out of the way. Electra is an antagonist. But he SUCKS at being a antagonist- for rusty. I genuinely don't remember any times he actually addresses rusty that's like actually important. He's really just a driving force against greaseball. He seems way more upset about diesel than steam. Though to be fair, he seems so confident in himself I doubt he's worried about some kid who's just kinda there.

Because Electra just appears. Unlike rusty and greaseball who are established to know each other. Electra literally just APPEARS. He's not part of the nationals. He wasn't even originally entered into the race. He just appears. And is here now. And he just wants to show off and beat the previous champion. Why would he acknowledge the steam engine who has no chance???

He doesn't even do anything outwardly malicious. I mean he listens to Red Caboose's plan and doesn't really mind that they cheat. And uhm. I guess he goes with pearl but she consented and willingly did that so it's not .. the worst. And he sometimes electrocutes people. But really most of the musical he just stands next to rusty and greaseball fighting while like " :/ " or just flirting with the components or something I don't know.

Of course this doesn't change the fact he's an asshole. He's apathetic and very naive honestly. He only cares about himself, and has tantrums like an actual toddler. He doesn't even ask out the pretty girls himself he has his accountant/security guy do that lmao. He's obviously not a guy used to doing anything himself. Or used to losing. And is just generally annoying to anybody who meets him. But he's probably the *most* redeemable of the three antags. In of which. Idk I feel like just having him live at the Apollo-Victoria for a few years or something would help just get him out of his stupid attitude hfhdbdb

A little bit indulgent perhaps. But i feel like in a episodic setting Electra would probably lose some of his apathetic tendencies. Not all of them- he's a computer. And he'll always be self centered and care a lot less about others feelings than most. But I could truly see him befriending Rusty, pearl, maybe even Dinah. Though I don't know if he'd ever get along with greaseball... Give it like 20 years... Maybe more... A lot of time.

But I truly think with the right circumstances he could just be??? A confident guy who is a bit inconsiderate?? Probably still whiny because you can't take the diva out of Electra but y'know what I mean.

Even MORE indulgent. I want a Dustin and Electra friendship SO BAD YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. These two are like. Opposites. But in the way that I just feel like they would help each other SO MUCH RAAAH. Electra is confident but struggles with empathy?? Dustin is overly empathetic and very insecure?? THEY COULD HELP EACH OTHER SO MUCH AAAA. Ok ok I need to stop with that.

But essentially I just think that Electra is this young guy. Like really young. He's one of the ( potentially, the youngest ) youngest people in the cast. Only a few years in service and he's already got a horrific ego. Just because he is TRULY good at racing. Can't take that from him. Even if he's very late. Like. Really late to the entry. But I just think he's this young guy who kinda threw himself into the wrong situation. Probably not realizing that messing with Caboose is a horrible idea. And that he was unknowingly racing against gods favorite so. oops.

Ok anyway I should shut up now ok I like Electra he's cool but he's a horrible antagonist but I love him and this probably is really hard to read (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

Oh also why does nobody ever use his hypnotism powers. He has those. Are- are we going to ignore that-?? Ok...

[stardustizuku]

Why Miraculous LadyBug Is the Worst Thing To Happen To Magical Girl Genre in All Its History.

It would be easy to sit here and tell you all the logical reasons why Ladybug is a bad show. It has horrible pacing, it has low stakes, repetitive episodes, and a dialogue that is cringe worthy enough to get its own tiktok sound.

But saying that, would be beating a dead horse at this point. Everyone knows this show is a bunch of wasted potential, only made worse by a director who keeps thinking he created gold, when in fact he messed up in a lot of areas – particularly the fact that he’s a grown man who thinks he knows what little girls want.

I’m not here for that.

Particularly, because I can be quite forgiving to shows like this. I mean, they’re kids' shows! Meant for little girls, and I haven’t been one for a few years now. But I still enjoy them.

Why? Well, cause I’m a massive fan of Magical Girl animes. I love the glitter, the sparkles, the silly adventures with friends, and the transformation sequences! Even with all its flaws, I really like them. So, stories or shows that borrow from them, get a pass in all these things. 

I mean, I have fun re-watching WINX Club, I love Star Vs The Forces of Evil despite its flaws. Steven Universe holds a deep place in my heart and She-Ra is…She-Ra is in its very own league of how amazing it is.

So, no. Be it a very dumb show or a very smart one, I can have fun. It’s very rare when a show with, you know, glitter, girly stuff and animals CAN’T hold my attention.

But, well, MLB failed at that.

It’s just, not a good show.

I mean, it could be. But the age demographic would need to drop several, several age groups just to be barely watchable – and even then, I seriously doubt that it would be good for young girls to watch it. The lessons it teaches are concerning, to say the least.

And at this point, you may be thinking,

"Why do you care so much about this show? It’s dumb and you’ve acknowledged it treats its demographic as toddlers. Why do you care so much?"

Well, because I've been here... for a very, very long time.

Listen, I started watching Miraculous Ladybug, back when I was in high school. Maybe a bit old, but, hey, a lot of unique cartoons came out around that time. (Star Vs, Steven Universe, etc). So, I was hopeful. Really hopeful.

Mainly, because I was here before it EVEN premiered. I remember it. The original PV was 2D animated and it had this vague Princess Tutu vibes that JUST I couldn’t resist. It was clear as day that it borrowed a lot of its inspiration from magical girls from the 90's, probably even 80's.

The premise looked similar enough to Kaito Jeanne, and Kaito St. Tail for me to draw those conclusions.

It had a dynamic very similar to Princess Tutu and seemed like a mix of silly and dark like that one was.

To be honest, I could even see hints of Sugar Sugar Rune with Pierre and Felix.

Not to mention, the animation was beautiful.

I will never, never forget that scene with Chat looking at Ladybug starry-eyed under the Paris Moonlight. That was so beautiful, a genuine touch of romance that rang so similar to the Magical Girl animes I grew up with.

I was thrilled, I was excited. I wanted this show to succeed, before even the premier had dropped.

This is all to say -

I never came to this show with the intention for it to fail.

And I didn’t expect nor want it to be ground-breaking or a giant of the genre. I just hoped I could have a fun time.

I didn't want subversions, I didn't want it to be dark, or deep. All I wanted, was sparkles, fun and a good time.

So, when it first aired, I tried to stay positive. I tried to like it, even when it had all these massive red flags.

I’ve never been a big fan of 3D animation, and especially not how it’s used in Magical Girl animes. (We all know the disaster the first season of Sailor Moon Crystal was).

But I swallowed it down.

The characters were different from the original PV

But I swallowed it down.

The background scenery was bland and generic and hardly felt unique.

But I swallowed it down.

I was here since day 1. I was here when Stormy Weather premiered. I was here before many of you were, and

I swallowed it all down.

Because I really, really wanted this to be good.

And I really thought it would.

But things should have been made clear, when they fucked up the one thing they shouldn't. The one thing that held this all together. The one thing that kept me here even as everything was burning to the ground, and I was too naive to realize it.

They fucked up the thing that started all this, to begin with.

MasterList >> NEXT

[zahri-melitor]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

Thank you @androxys for the tag!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

I have 46 works on AO3 at the moment. There's a handful more spread over various other places, but at this point I've uploaded all of my back catalogue that I want to have archived there.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

113,119 words. Which is pretty respectable given I tend not to write long pieces.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Whatever is currently causing my brain to itch! At the moment that's most DC Comics, but I do have a few Yuri!!! on Ice drafts sitting around that I may or may not finish, at least one Girl Genius piece I could tidy up, a bunch of ATLA snippets, and I can frequently be provoked into writing Vorkosigan Saga if people pose the right scenarios.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

College Daze: a Yuri!!! on Ice SkyGem Retirement Challenge piece, where I don't bother with the reveal. It's three separate scenarios where people meet Yuuri as a college student in the US and don't know who he is. I'm entirely unsurprised it remains my most popular - it was a very popular challenge in the fandom and it's a lot more accessible and pandering to fandom tastes than some other stuff I write.

Find Out What It Means To Me: an immediate sequel to Yuri!!! on Ice, set around Japanese Nationals. Yuuri doubts himself but succeeds and finds how much love and support he has from the whole Japanese skating community. I love this piece because it's very much a balance of things I enjoy (fiddly technical details) and characterisation.

the picture frames have changed and so has your name: DC Comics. What if Dick no longer loved Tim? What if Dick got Morrison Disease? Ahahaha I think you all know this one. It's my big DC piece so far, so I'm not surprised it's up here. It also contains female characters that casual DC fans have never heard of in major roles, so I'm also not surprised it doesn't get the attention fanon-based material does in this fandom.

Little Chick in a Nest: Yuri!!! on Ice. Victor introduces Yuuri to Lilia, without realising that Minako was also a famous prima ballerina. The YOI fandom loves Minako's Benois, but it's a tiny set dressing detail; Victor probably overlooked it and nobody ever talks about Minako as a famous dancer. I had a lot of fun setting up Victor to put his foot in it.

there's an endless road to rediscover: DC Comics. Dick and Tim playfight in the Cave and Damian misreads the situation. I think this one is popular just because of the interplay between the characters, and it was my first attempt at trying to get my head around Damian as a character.

5. do you respond to comments?

Pretty much always. It's the time I spent on LJ coming through, because comments are for talking, and if you talk to me I'll talk back. If you're waiting on a response it's usually because I'm formulating some massive post. Also I tend to meet people where they pitch their comment - the longer and more detailed it is the more detail and discussion you'll get back.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'll hold your memory in my hands tonight. It's pretty hard to beat this one for angst in terms of the subject matter. (I still giggle to myself over the pun in this title because it's dreadful) Anyway CTE is something I have a lot of feelings about and they recently diagnosed two women as having suffered CTE due to domestic violence, which is horrific and really shows the long term problems and dangers from family violence.

Then there's A Duty to Your Family and Soft, Small, Silent, Still, one of which contains attempted infanticide and the other which contains canonical accidental toddler death, so you know. When I give heads up warnings I tend to mean them.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

...Happiest? hmmmm. I have a bunch of fluff, but probably Find Out What It Means To Me for YOI, Herds of Little Vorkosigans for Vorkosigan Saga, and These Small Hours for DC Comics?

Yes okay that's two baby fics and the one where everyone tells Yuuri he's the best.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Almost none that I'm aware of; there's occasionally a bit of pedantry on the Vorkosigan Saga fics but that's from known notorious figures in the fandom and I largely ignore them. If anyone's busy having a hate on for my fics they're kind enough to do it the correct way, which is privately where I can't see it.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. The closest I get is playing around with innuendo at times in my writing. I'd really rather insinuate and then fade to black, it's heaps less awkward to write.

10. do you write crossovers?

I was going to play good old 'what do you mean by crossover' as far as DC Comics goes, but the answer is a frank yes, because I've got a West Wing & Grease crossover drabble I'm Not Pregnant which is leveraging Stockard Channing appearing in both.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I've ever noticed, and I honestly suspect it's unlikely to happen. I would need to write things that get more attention than I currently get, designed to hit fandom popular tropes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. None of my Vorkosigan Saga stuff is popular enough to get a Russian translation and it doesn't fit the preferred tropes of that end of fandom anyway.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nothing I've ever specifically published as fic. I do have some commentfic over the years where there's been back and forth between me and someone else, but alas commentfic is a dying breed in fandom these days.

(and it's a LOT more informal than proper cowriting)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

All time favourite? Oh gosh. Probably Wally/Norah from Billabong, which hits just so many of my favourite notes for a relationship. Nothing for me will ever beat Wally throwing himself at Norah's mercy to confess that he would rather have died than Jim as he's 'nobody's dog', and Norah claiming him as her own.

I've loved those two since I was a little kid, and you know how it is with ships you acquire in that formative period.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I remain hopeful about a lot of my stash but I just can't see myself finishing a piece I have about Steph's baby and Helena Kyle. It's a fun scenario, but I cannot work out the villain who came after them both, and so it remains a setting without a plot.

16. What are your writing strengths?

From what people have said to me: I'm pretty good at paring down language and telling a lot of story in small scenes and understatement. There's a bunch of compliments I've had over the structure of TES 34/64 that I treasure, and everyone lost their minds over "the shoes had eventually come in handy. For the funerals." in a gap where a parent should be.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Oh, this is something I have strong feelings about. I don't like loan words being translated and multilingual fandoms often have a working level of loan words that is higher than background use: think for example the amount of French commonly used when discussing ballet. So I tend to think you should use languages at the level of comfort that the fandom has for them.

It often comes down to the fluency of the characters in the scene - I think dialogue in another language can be quite powerful if some of the characters understand it and others don't, because you can leverage that variation in understanding in your audience. However personally I'm more likely to note what languages are being used in dialogue tags than arrange for a translation.

I do try to localise for word choice to the setting of a fic but at this point I've been in fandom too long and and I'm too stubborn to localise spelling for my writing.

Which means if I were to write Wellington Paranormal fic I would probably be using my extremely scanty Māori mixed through the dialogue; I wouldn't bother translating kia ora or whānau for instance. But on the other hand I'm not going to write in another language unless it makes sense for the story to do so.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

That I published? Harry Potter. Which I'm not ashamed of or upset over, really. It was a good fandom to learn how fandom worked in, and it certainly inoculated me against a lot of nonsense behaviour later on. I still have friends I made back then, I learned a lot about how Internet communities function and behave, and it's sort of weird to have things I was on the fringe of and have contemporary memories of occurring having become Fandom Lore.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Oh damn. Hmmm. Look, probably the picture frames have changed and so has your name, because I'm super proud of myself for finishing it, but in terms of underrated pieces I have to to point to the Mother's Day series, particularly Tea for Two, because DC mothers deserve so much more love.

I don't have anyone specific to tag so let's make it an open offer.

[i-am-a-whimsy-boy]

Murdoch Mysteries characters and whether or not I could beat them in a fight

By a hobbit sized toddler who has a BMI of -2

William Murdoch: No. Absolutely not. Murdoch is not only very physically capable, he's also incredibly smart, which means that I'm not going to be able to be crafty and surprise him at all. He would turn me inside out like a pair of socks in the laundry.

Julia Ogden: I think Julia and I would be fairly well matched physically. She has a height advantage, but I have a mean kick so I think I could knock her down to my level and get a few hits in. At the end of the day, though, no, I'm still not beating her. Julia's very crafty in a fight, and I think she'd outsmart me.

George Crabtree: Look, you have to remember that George canonically can hit someone so hard it sends them back to the future. This man would take turns with his future self beating me up. I would have a century's worth of internal bleeding. Without this power, I might have a chance, simply because George is too nice to hit anyone, but with it, there is no way.

Llewellyn Watts: Yes. I am confident I can kick his butt right here, right now. He's taller than me, but I have a low centre of gravity, and I feel like any hit to that man would send him toppling over like a Jenga tower. Once he's down, I can just kick him. I would beat this man into the ground.

Violet Hart: She's a bit tricky, because while I think I might have a chance to overpower her in a physical fight, she would fight DIRTY, and I think she'd probably have a knife strapped to her ankle and she'd just shank me. Probably not.

Henry Higgins: Yes. I feel like I could just surprise attack him and knock him down and he'd be completely subdued. I'd be able to outsmart him simply by just jumping him.

Thomas Brackenreid: .... I mean, no. Like, no. Just. Just absolutely not. This man would annihilate me. The only time anyone has ever beat him in a fight is when they jumped him in the dark, and that was only when it was like four against one. My tiny, scrawny ass would have absolutely no chance against this man. This man would flatten me into a sheet and fold me into an origami crane. No way.

Edna Brooks: You would need all of Station House Four combined to hold me back from liquefying her organs. I would destroy her.

[smoments]

(part 2) memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

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╰┈➤ in which 19-year-old gojo satoru happens upon a supposed stranger on a rare coffee shop trip who feels like anything but that, and who makes him question everything he's ever known about soulmates.

➽ chapter 2: the return visit

“So, you called me all the way here to tell me that you had an epiphany about some guy you saw at a coffee shop?”

Shoko is seated across from Satoru, sipping a latte and perfecting the art of exuding energy that is equally skeptical and unbothered. He could point out that they’re a breath away from campus and she usually walks in this direction anyways, but instead he sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He wasn’t ‘some guy’! I knew him!” He protests, his voice laced with indignace. Shoko stares into the slot of the lid on her paper cup, shutting one eye and holding it up to her face like a telescope, and then shakes her head as though she just caught a glimpse into Satoru’s potentially troubling future and not at the last dregs of her coffee.

“Satoru, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I felt it, Shoko! It was, like, a soul connection!” He insists, his palm flat against his heart for emphasis that she appears to miss- if her derisive snort is anything to go by.

“Oh, really? What, you think you knew him in another life? That you were reincarnated just so you could see him again?”

Satoru doesn’t like the way this sounds, nor the way it resonates deep in his chest, and he contorts his face into one of mild disgust.

“No way, i’m not some loser.” A tense silence hangs in the air between them as they maintain eye contact, Shoko’s gaze steady and almost unnervingly impassive- as though she’s used to staring people down. Unfortunately for Satoru, not only is he less experienced with such matters, but his objectively gorgeous eyes are sensitive to the sun; which is why he relents after a few beats, breathing a sigh of exasperation.

“Yes.”

Shoko’s face softens ever so slightly, but in the way that one’s might upon realizing they are face to face with a mentally ill psychiatric patient. Satoru had been hoping for something a little more compassionate.

“You really have lost it.” She murmurs almost to herself, her tone sympathetic.

“What?!” Satoru’s head snaps towards her, and with the slight narrow of his eyes and the way his lips are clearly seconds away from a pout, she thinks that he looks vaguely like a petulant toddler and has to stifle her laughter.

“Nothing. Anyways, Satoru, I don’t see what the big deal is. Why don’t you just go back there and talk to him?” She suggests with a casual flick of her hand, which absolutely baffles Satoru.

Despite the apparent ease with which he approaches most things- people, school, work- he is not above caring, and, contrary to popular belief, never has been. However, he has learned throughout the course of his 19 years that the excess of emotional vulnerability with which most people happily traipse around is not for him, and so he chooses to embrace the fact that his life is out of his control rather than objecting to it and getting hurt in the process. Some might call it frivolous, but he thinks they’re just jealous. 

Either way, given that Shoko has grown rather accustomed to his behavior, it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that she expects him to remain loyal to his tried-and-true ways in the case of this mysterious stranger- but for Satoru, it feels like a different realm entirely; something that he’ll have to reshape his mind around. 

Shoko notices that his expression is unusually thoughtful and lifts an quizzical eyebrow, waiting for some sort of explanation, so he lifts his hands to the back of his head in a languid stretch, trying to summon some of his usual cockiness.

“Hm… yeah, I think I will.” he says, forcing confidence into his voice in an attempt to alleviate his uncharacteristic worry.

Shoko nods approvingly. “You do that.” She glances down at the empty cup in her hand, her expression somewhat absent, and Satoru finally notices the dark half-circles carved out beneath her eyes. Blinking in surprise, he traces her movements inconspicuously and picks out a touch of sluggishness in the way she lifts a hand to her bangs to brush them out of her face- but he thinks better of commenting on either for lack of anything he can do to help. Even if he’d been going solely off of the size of the medical textbooks Shoko carried around, or from the sleepless nights she’d spend studying for her exams, he could have preached to any unfortunate soul he knew about how draining the path to becoming a doctor was. 

“I’ve got a research paper to write for bio, so i’ll talk to you later.” Shoko eases herself into a standing position, swinging her bag over her shoulder, and turns on her heel to leave before hesitating briefly. Her fingers tighten around the paper cup in her hand, and the thin walls give ever so slightly.

“Good luck, Satoru.” Her tone holds an undercurrent of sincerity, and Satoru can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips as he waves her off.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” He replies in his breezy fashion, leaning back in his seat and watching as she visibly resists the urge to roll her eyes before striding towards her dorm. Once Shoko is out of sight, Satoru stands, briefly stretching against the table to hype himself up, and attempts to gather his thoughts.

As has become commonplace in the days since he first encountered Suguru, his mind returns to that soft gaze.

To the unnervingly familiar way he’d said his name.

Frustration rising within him, his hand goes to the crown of his head, grazing a stray lock of hair as he tries to figure out just where he could have seen that man before.

And he may be Gojo Satoru, intelligent beyond common understanding and talented beyond belief, but the thought that Shoko’s dismissive words held even a fragment of truth in them does not cross his mind for a second. 

Satoru is back. His hands tucked loosely into the pockets of the tan coat he wore during his last visit, he stares up at the sign in front of the coffee shop, wondering why they chose such large, intimidating letters to represent a drink establishment. The words loom down on him, just foreboding enough to annoy him- to spite him into yanking a hand out of his pocket and clasping it around the silver metal handle of the door, cool against his fingers. He pulls it open and steps inside, realizing a little too late that the chances of Suguru being here are slim; after all, he probably doesn’t work a full-time job if he’s a college student, the way Satoru hopes. 

He silently resigns himself to another hot chocolate and a return trip, simultaneously not wanting to get his hopes up too much and annoyed at the fact that it should affect him at all.

However, when his eyes go to the menu, the familiar and not entirely unpleasant scent of coffee and pastries wafting over him, the glint of a black earring pulls his gaze downwards, and he’s met with the same lovely juxtaposition of features- that sharp face and its impossibly gentle aura- that affected him so greatly the last time he stepped foot into this shop. Suguru is wiping down a display case with a damp cloth, his movements somehow smooth and methodical even in the simple act.

Satoru’s breath catches, but this time, he quickly shakes himself off and advances to the counter, thanking his luck that the shop is considerably quieter at this time of day. He wouldn’t be too bothered at a few dirty looks, but it’s hardly his preference to be glared by hungry customers on their too-short lunch breaks while attempting to strike up a conversation with a barista.

His nails dig into his palm as he clenches his fist, leaving crescent-shaped indents in his skin that are hidden by the lining of his pockets, but he barely notices the pain.

When Satoru stops in front of the counter, the sound of his shoes padding against the hardwood floor alerts Suguru, who turns toward him, tossing the cloth over his aproned shoulder. His eyes light up in pleasant, but not necessarily surprised, recognition.

“Satoru, right?”

He’d thought he was prepared for the smoothness of his voice, but he’s not sure how anybody could be. Satoru swallows, nodding haltingly.

“You remember me?” he asks without thinking, and instantly regrets it when amusement flits across Suguru’s features.

“Well, you have a rather striking appearance.” 

“…Oh.” Satoru disguises his disappointment, wondering briefly what he wanted Suguru to recognize him by. His odd behavior? His glowing personality? In all fairness, he’s not convinced the latter came through in their last interaction, so perhaps his beauty isn’t too bad a place to start. 

“What can I get for you today?” Suguru steadies his hands against the edge of the counter, his thumbs tapping gently against the surface in a slow, soft rhythm that is music to Satoru’s ears. His hands are pretty, too, he thinks, artful in their roughness- almost unfairly so. He forces his gaze to Suguru’s face. The question he’s been wanting to ask finally escapes his parted lips, shattering at his feet like a final wall of security that he has just destroyed with his forthrightness- but then again, he was never one for security.    

“…When do you get off?”

Suguru’s features open up in surprise, his eyebrows lifting and lips parting silently in a way that feels particularly genuine to Satoru, the expression wholly unfiltered.

“Me…? At three.”

“Great. Do you like coffee at all?”

“No, that’s why I work in a cafe.” Suguru’s lips twitch into a semblance of a teasing smile, and Satoru lets out an involuntary laugh, his shoulders relaxing as some of the tension drains from his body. A smirk lingers on his face when he speaks again.

“Well, assuming you remember anything about me besides my face, I came to return a favor.” Words come easier with his newfound calm, and so he informs Suguru of his intentions nonchalantly, opening his palms in an ‘it-can’t-be-helped’ kind of gesture that makes the other smile.

“Favor? …Oh, I see.” Suguru doesn’t acknowledge his snide remark, though the upward tilt of his lips doesn’t correct itself either. He brushes his hands together to dust them off as he speaks, a hint of curiosity on his face. “There’s no need, really, but if you insist.”

“Ha! I do, actually. Ten minutes to three, right? Can I get one hot chocolate and one of whatever your favorite is? Also-“

He’s about to add on two slices of strawberry shortcake, but something gives him pause, an inkling of an idea that jumps out at him from the back of his mind. He can’t quite discern what it’s telling him, but nevertheless, it’s enough that he decides against the dessert.

“Never mind. I’ll be waiting, Suguru.”

[infinityactual]

Ngl, being (apparently exactly) half your age is fun because making people about my mom's age feel Old is enrichment for me (love u, have a nice day)

Hey man I love feelin old.

It's funny, growing up undiagnosed autistic and adhd in an abusive, authoritarian household really messed up my perception of what growing up is like. I have since officially cut contact with my abusive family (they didn't even react aside from signing the registered mail receipt lolololol) but even before that, I often thought a lot about what its like being in my thirties.

(Brief mentions of assault and abuse below he cut, nothing detailed just mentions as examples for context. This got a little rambly, I've had a lot on my mind regarding age the last few years.)

And being that old? It's. Not different. The phrase 'the more things change, the more they stay the same' never really made sense to me as a kid, but it hits home nowadays. I'm still me, but between growing and learning as I age and the realization that I'm probably not who I was told I was, it makes sense. I change. But I stay the same. It's like adding extra paint to a canvas. It's still a canvas, but there's more to it now. It will always be a canvas, but it's a canvas that is also different than it was before. It's changed, but it's the same.

My mom is one of those people who (literally at times) beat into me that if you got assaulted or raped or murdered, it was somehow YOUR fault for being too stupid or dressing too provocative or some other bullshit reason, and that I was sooo trusting and sooo stupid that I would probably end up dead before I hit 25.

And being on the spectrum and adhd and...well, a fuckin CHILD, I believed it.

It took three therapists and a psychiatrist, plus pretty much everyone I talk to going "Uh hey [x] isn't normal, that's abuse and you probably have [y] issues" for it to really sink in that my mother was wrong. That happened in 2020, right at the start of lockdown. Almost 5 years later and I still get kicked in the head with past traumas. I'm still sorting everything out. It's gonna take a while.

But I'm 38. Over a decade past the age when I thought I'd be dead. And only this year after deciding not to let the trauma and bad memories surrounding my birthday did I really understand how fucked up it is to fully expect to be dead at a young age without any sort of preexisting issues going on (it's also not a good way to live if you DO have medical issues that could kill you, but that is not what I'm getting into today).

I still feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it's not a 'my death could happen any second' feeling, it's a more insidious 'what if my death comes from my spouse, whom I love and trust implicitly?' thing, with an added feeling of anxiety because on bad brain days I try to look for red flags where there are none.

And the real kicker: that sort of trust was already violated when I was a toddler, possibly younger, and kept being violated till I left home.

It's a lot to think about. Like several boxes of puzzles all dumped on the floor at once. I pick through the pieces, sometimes things click, but mostly it's just a mess.

But I am glad I lived. I'm glad that I am still here to prove that I'm not 'too stupid' to survive. I like being the server dinosaur on Discord. I like being there for younger folks who went through or still are in the shit. Cos I'm proof it gets better. I'm proof that abusers are liars and so are the mental problems abuse instills in a mind. They're liars that tell you horrible things. I argue back. I have gotten into the habit of responding to the thoughts in my mother's voice yelling at me by telling her she can fuck off.

She can fuck off and I'll still be here loving the same shit I did in school. In fact, things I loved have been coming back to me. I'm still me, but I've changed. The only thing adult about me is my age and that I have bills and taxes. I've cultivated patience. Learned that I was never wrong to give kindness and expect it in return. I've grown. And I love being old.