#Getting lost in the sauce of your politics

[bellamoooon]

Riff never really thought he would last this long with you, but here you were, he had been with you since the year before Tony had gone upstate, which summed up to two years— which for riff was a lifetime considering his “relationships” never lasted more than a day.

“Come on girly girl, I promise they’ll behave this time…” there he was, puppy eyes and a pout standing in the door of your apartment, trying to convince you to let the jets have dinner at your place.

“Riff, you said that the last time, diesel threw a plate at action—“ you spoke reminding him about the catastrophic dinner that had happened weeks ago.

Because yes, you loved riff, and the rest of the boys, to be fair you had been like a mother to most of them, which was comic, seeing as they were all of your age, or a year younger, but despite that, the care you had given to your boys— as you call them — was more nurturing and motherly than what their actual mother ever provided.

But— often when you made dinner for all of them, it turned into a goddamn mess.

Chewing with open mouths, spilling juice, broken plates, sauce accidentally spilled on your pretty pink table cloth, and stolen spoons— don’t ask, you do not know what they take your spoons for.

“I just don’t want to have to clean up after, you boys are like a stampede of elephants, you tear my apartment to shreds in minutes” riff laughed, of course he did, he pulled you closer wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Come on angel, I’ll make the boys clean up, you just cook up one of those delicious warm meals of yours and we do the rest.”

It was tempting, getting to see the boys— and them endlessly complementing your food, and you weren’t an egomaniac, but man it was nice to hear— and spending time with riff, which was often a complicated task with all the trouble they find themselves in.

“Fine, but this apartment better shine after” he hummed as he left a kiss on your head, good thing he had convinced you, the jets were all getting set up for the dinner riff had promised them, he knew you’d give in eventually.

***

As you turn the stove off, right on cue there’s a knock at the door, you sigh, it’s just dinner, they’ll help clean up, no one’s gonna kill anyone, you try telling yourself, but who were you kidding, whenever more than three jets were in a small space— or big to be fair— an earthquake was bound to happen.

“Heya doll, got the boys, need any help setting up?” Riff said with his usual charming smirk as you opened the door, you made way as him and maybe five or six jets walked in behind all freshened up and smiling as they greeted you.

“Yeah, could ya set the plates and silverware, I’ll be there to serve in a sec” he nodded as he started to hand out plates to the boys as the placed them carefully on the table.

As you close the door a foot is shoved in the way letting out a yelp of pain, “ow!”

immediately you swing the door open to find baby John with his brows knit together in pain.

“Jesus, baby John! Why the hell would you do that?” He shakes his head as you place a hand on his back as you both walk in.

“The guys started to run— and…and I kinda lost ‘em so im just slightly late, sorry ma” you giggled as he spoke, always so well spoken and polite. He was a good kid from a broken home, and you were the kind of mother he always wanted his to be, so to say the least, you were fond of him.

“Alright, go sit down, I bet the boys already set the table for dinner” and they had done that exactly, and were even seated already, looking all pretty and innocent as if they weren’t in fights everyday.

As you had predicted, they all gushed over the food and how “no five star could do it like you did”— says riff, it’s just a simple meal, but he was used to eating whatever he could find cheap enough for himself, or starve, which was almost never, since you’d always have a little something for him.

“Okay, now clean up, I want no complaining or whining, Diesel— you’re on dishes tonight” obviously, he let out a soft “aw man” as he started picking the plates and taking them to the sink, “and the rest of you wiping up the table and the kitchen counter” they all groaned, but complied.

Riff found it incredibly amusing and mesmerizing how, ever since you two were together, they all obeyed to most of your orders and looked after you whenever you were out late.

“Y’know pretty, you’d make a great mom someday” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, making you smile as his warmth stuck onto you.

“Already am, dickwad, you made me responsible for all your jets, but I don’t see ya paying child support” you say as you turn your head to look up at him, lets out a loud chuckle as he presses a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ll pay you once these monkeys are out here girly girl, they don’t need to know how good I fuck you” he whispered in your ear, your face lit up with a bright blush as you stuck your elbow in his ribs.

“Riff! You gotta stop doing that, I mean it.”

“Unless you’d want ‘em to hear your pathetic whining, pretty, remind ‘em you’re mine and no one else’s” he left a quick kiss on your cheek as he pulled away, going towards the boys to walk them out of the apartment, turning to wink at you.

You just know it’ll be best if you sleep in and not leave the house tomorrow.

[midwestemoboyfriend]

What you clowns look like “um actually”ing the assault of a gender non-conforming girl

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you  had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Date You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe wants everything for their first date to be perfect, but unfortunately, it isn't.

Masterlist

They were going to go for Mexican food on Friday night, but unfortunately, Y/N got sick and lost her voice. It disappointed Rafe greatly to have to postpone the date, but at least now he can make it absolutely perfect. The Mexican place he wanted to take her to is now closed for a private event, so he had to rethink his plan. He thought it would be the perfect opportunity to go to the most exclusive restaurant in town. He planned everything down to a t. It was the type of place with a pre-determined menu, so he had to make sure that the menu they had the night of their date was something Y/N would like. He made sure they shipped in the drink she liked. He made sure that he got her the perfect pre-date gift. She wasn’t the biggest fan of flowers, so he got her some of her favourite stationery she likes to use for her notes. This date was going to be perfect and he was going to make sure of that. 

——

The first thing that goes wrong is the restaurant reservation. “I’m sorry Mr. Cameron, but in our system, it says that your reservation is at eight,” the hostess apologizes, looking up from the screen. Rafe shakes his head, “No, no, no. That’s not right. I said seven. I confirmed with whoever I was on the call with that it was at seven. What are we supposed to do until we get a table?” Before the hostess can answer, Y/N steps in to help ease the situation. “It’s okay, Rafe. We can go back to your car and listen to some music. I have this great song that I think you would like.” She takes his hand and they head to his car to do as she suggests with him grumbling under his breath at the stupid person he was on call with. The next thing that spoils his evening is the menu being changed at the last minute. “And the entrée for tonight is a braised duck accompanied by a peanut sauce,” the waiter announces while pouring their wine. 

Rafe’s fist clenches in anger. He specifically told the restaurant he needed to know about menu changes because of her allergies. Now, it makes him look incompetent to Y/N because she told him about her allergies. “Oh, I’m allergic to peanuts. Is there any way to not get the sauce on it,” she politely asks. The waiter gives a tight-lipped smile and shakes his head, “I’m afraid not, Miss. The chef doesn’t like when the meals are altered in any way.” “That is stupid, so you are telling me that my date can’t eat anything because your chef doesn’t want to have his feelings hurt,” Rafe argues, boring his eyes into the man. Y/N smiles at the waiter, “It’s okay. Is there any way we can get the check, please?” The waiter nods and heads to get their check for the drinks printed out.

She turns to Rafe with a smile, “It’s okay, Rafe. We can just go to the campus pub. We can share the nachos.” He wants to argue with her that he can fix this and with the chef that he needs to get rid of the nut sauce for Y/N. Yet, something in him tells him to do as she suggested. “I’m sorry. I just really wanted this night to be perfect for you, Angel. And everything seems to be going wrong,” he tells her, putting his hand in hers. She shakes his head, “I know you do, but I promise, it will still be perfect if we go to the pub. Honestly, I like greasy nachos way more than braised duck.” This calms his nerves a little and he pays the bill so they can leave.

——

The pub is busy. Probably because of the hockey game playing on the TVs, but Y/N and Rafe get a table in the back corner. It’s more cozy and warm than the stuffy and cold exclusive restaurant. The date is going absolutely amazing. They’ve shared so much food. A burger. Nachos. Wings. Fries. They completely indulged themselves in not only food but also conversation. There is never a moment of silence and laughter fills the air. Rafe has to admit that this has been the perfect date. “I just wanted to say thank you for letting me date you, Angel,” he interrupts their conversation. He can’t help himself. He needs her to know how much this means to him because he thinks he found his soulmate. She leans in to give him a kiss and pulls away, “No need to thank me. You found me and I promised I would. But this has been an amazing date. I love it.” He has kissed a lot of people before, but he’s never kissed anyone who's built a fire in his stomach. It tells him what he needs to say next. 

“I know it’s early, but will you be my girlfriend?” he inquires, begging the universe that she won’t say no. She grins at his nervousness, letting him be on edge for a second. When it looks like he is about to cry, she saves him from his panic. Her arms wrap around his neck, “Of course, I would love to!” They pull away from the hug to turn it into a kiss. Once they pull away, Rafe takes a napkin and looks around for a pen. “Here,” she offers, handing him one from her purse. She is so curious about what he is going to write. She watches as he writes down numbers for a list and then writes Rules To Be Rafe’s Girlfriend at the top of the napkin. Boy, does she not know what she got herself into. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[seungfl0wer]

Good day sweetheart 😘

Firstly let me tell you your writing, one of the most breathtaking I've read here. As someone who can't write for shit it ACTUALLY amazes me.

I'd like to request 13.) “Dude Watch where you’re going!” with sassy king Seungmin. Will he attack, will he be polite about it, who knows?

Thank you bebes!

*Food Fate*

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None. Lots of Yapping lol, Let me know if I did use any gendered pronouns. Sorry for any mistakes

A/N: this was super cute to write. It’s not super long but I hope you like it! Made it cute af lol, you get slightly attacked lol. Also thank you so much😭 genuinely makes me wanna cry. Really I appreciate it so fucking much!

-🖤

Walking through the cafeteria you made your way to grab a trey from the line. It’s been such a shit day already and it was only lunch. The mangers were all pissy today, it felt like everything you did was horrible. Standing in line you were just all in your head. Huffing to yourself as you made your way down the line.

The food looked good but you didn’t even feel like eating. After paying you took your tray walking towards a table away from everyone. Before you could get to your table however you in your haziness you ran right into someone. Half your food coming back spilling all over yourself. You felt like you were about to bawl. ‘Seriously’ you said to yourself.

The man you bumped into turned around “dude, watch where you’re going!” A harsh voice growled at you. You looked up meeting his eyes, his face turning from anger to calm. Here you were standing there, sauce all over you food all over the floor looking like you just wanted to cry.

“Hey I’m so-“ he started to say before you just dropped your tray almost running out to find a bathroom. As soon as you walked through the bathroom doors you lost it. You started bawling in the stall. You heard a knock at the door before hearing a voice softly squeak “h-hey, are you.. are you in here?” The same voice from earlier ringing through. He made his way in covering his eyes like he was gonna see someone naked.

“Can I open my eyes?” He said making you laugh a little.

“Yeah” you said softly.

When he does he throws a hoodie over the door “here, so you don’t have to wear your wet, stained clothes.” He said feeling bad.

“Th-thank you” you said wiping your nose with some toilet paper. You took your shirt off putting on the hoodie before trying to get ahold of yourself. When you finally come out the man in front of you is all rosy probably from being in the women’s bathroom.

“Thank you again.” You said with a slight smile.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He said looking down at his hands.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry if I got any food on you” you said with a little chuckle.

“Oh- you didn’t get to eat did you?” He said his head springing up to meet your gaze.

You shook your head “no but it’s alright” you say with a sigh “it’s been one of those days so guess I’m not allowed to eat” you said chuckling again.

“No no let me, let me take you out for lunch? I didn’t eat either, we can get lunch together my treat?” He said with a nervous smile.

You couldn’t help but smile, he was super cute. His pretty brown eyes and that smile made him look like a big ol puppy. How could you say no?

“Uh. Yeah, you sure?” You said back nervously.

“Least I can do for wasting your food” he said with a little sigh scratching the back of his head.

“Alright, sounds good to me” you say smiling up at him making him blush.

“I’m y/n by the way” you say.

“I’m seungmin, it’s nice to meet- wait I know you.” He says pointing a bit.

“You’re a producer and writer here aren’t you?” He asks tilting his head a bit.

��Oh yeah, yeah I am.” You say feeling shy now.

“That’s awesome! Wanna talk music while we get food? I’ve always wanted to make a song with you.” He said with a big smile.

“Sounds exciting!” You say smiling big now.

“This must have been fate huh?” He chuckles.

“Yeah.. haha food fate” you say joking with him.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[writingdungeon-inactive]

uhhhhh can you do i, v, y, and z for harvey 🥺🥺🥺

Prescribing you one dose of fluff and 2 tiny doses of angst, sorry, doctors orders

I - Intimacy: Harvey is a shy man, and it takes him quite a bit of time to warm up to people. Once you are able to get past his polite, reserved exterior, you will find that he is a romantic at heart. I mean he rented a hot air balloon for you two and cooks for you. His gestures are subtle but thoughtful. He holds doors open for you, makes sure you are served first at meals, and loves the quiet moments, like sitting together with a good book or enjoying a peaceful evening walk. —-

Leaning back on the couch, you chuckled softly at the show "The Queen of Sauce," enjoying the rare treat of a quiet evening at home. With most of your tasks and chores completed, relaxing was the one thing left to check off your list. You glanced over at Harvey on the other side of the couch, who was engrossed in his book, and hummed softly as you turned down the volume on the TV.

"What are you reading about?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the book he was so absorbed in.

"Wiley Post," he replied, chuckling softly as you laid your head on his lap. He looked down at you with a warm smile, his fingers gently brushing through your hair.

"Who?" you asked, barely skimming the words on the page, more wanting Harvey to tell you than to read yourself.

"A pilot who lost one of his eyes," Harvey explained, turning the page as he continued to read. His hand rested comfortably in your hair, the gentle, rhythmic motion soothing you.

"How did he do that?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. You looked up at him, momentarily forgetting about the cooking show that had previously held your attention.

"An oil drilling accident," Harvey responded, his voice soft and patient. He glanced down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Despite that, he went on to become a famous aviator. He even set a few records for around-the-world flights."

You listened intently, captivated not just by the story, but by the way Harvey's eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about. His love for aviation was one of the many things you adored about him. 

Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, the details of Wiley Post's journeys blending into a dreamy haze. Harvey's voice became a soft, melodic background, like a lullaby coaxing you into slumber. The warmth of his lap and the tender strokes of his hand on your hair were all you needed to feel utterly at peace.

Harvey continued to speak, his voice a comforting murmur as he described Post’s solo flights and the challenges he faced. You could feel the weight of the day lifting from your shoulders, each word he spoke enveloping you in a sense of calm. His fingers threaded through your hair in a slow, deliberate pattern, their touch as soothing as the words he was saying.

The more he talked, the more you felt yourself drifting. You could barely keep your eyes open, each blink lasting a little longer than the last. The world around you began to blur, the edges softening as Harvey’s hand continued its gentle movement through your hair. You took a deep breath, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the comforting smell of home, wrapping you in a blanket of tranquility.

The room seemed to grow quieter, the only sounds were the occasional crackle from the TV and the soft cadence of Harvey's voice. You felt yourself being pulled into a warm, inviting darkness, the last thing you remembered being the feel of Harvey’s hand in your hair and the sound of his gentle laughter and him whispering. “Sleep well.”

You drifted off completely, enveloped in the peace and security of Harvey, knowing that you were exactly where you needed to be.

V - Vulnerability: Harvey feels most vulnerable when you are hurt. Yes, it's a cliché, but no one really discusses the ethical dilemma a doctor endures when having to work on their own partner. As the only doctor in town, Harvey must balance his professional responsibilities with his personal feelings. In the medical field, it’s a big no-no to work on loved ones, yet Harvey has no choice if you come in very injured. Maru is only a nurse; while she knows some things, the critical emergencies fall on Harvey's shoulders.

his vulnerability is most apparent in these moments. He’s forced to compartmentalize his emotions, pushing down his fear and sorrow to perform his duties. After the crisis, when the immediate danger has passed, and he finally allows himself to feel, the emotional floodgates open. He might retreat to his office or a quiet corner, where the weight of what he’s just endured crashes over him. He feels the overwhelming relief that you’re safe mingled with the residual terror of how close he came to losing you. —-

Harvey sat on the floor, the cold from the white tile seeping up through his pants, chilling his legs, helping to ground him for a moment. He stared at his shoes, the only sounds he made were his ragged breathing and the wet blinks as he tried to clear his eyes. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that still lingered from the surgery.

Marlon had found you deep in the mines and brought you to him. You were rough—more than rough. Your body was covered in bloody cuts, and deep bruises, each wound telling a story of the battle you endured. Harvey had no idea what to do, his body and mind falling into a freeze response. He felt paralyzed, his medical training momentarily forgotten as sheer panic gripped him. He was lucky Maru was there to help snap him out of it.

He looked over at Maru as she sat in his swivel chair, her head held low. She had been by his side the whole surgery, working tirelessly to help stabilize you and reminding Harvey that he needed to be professional for your sake. Her hands were still stained with your blood, and the exhaustion in her eyes mirrored his own.

His eyes trailed back up to you lying on the surgery table, eyes closed, looking peaceful yet battered. Your chest rose and fell steadily, a sign that the worst was over, but the sight of your injuries made his heartache. The memory of your lifeless form being carried in by Marlon played on a loop in his mind, a nightmare he couldn't escape.

His tears started to flow freely, a sob ripping out of his throat as he pulled his knees to his chest. The weight of the day’s events crashed down on him, leaving him feeling helpless and overwhelmed. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and the fear of what could have happened gnawed at his soul.

He remembered the first time he met you, how your smile had lit up the clinic, and the countless moments you had shared since then. The thought of never seeing that smile again was unbearable. Harvey's shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, the emotional toll of the day finally breaking through his composed exterior.

Maru stood up quickly and walked over to him, kneeling before him and wrapping her arms around him gently, careful not to get her blood-stained hands on him. "It's over now, they're okay. They're okay," she whispered weakly, her voice showing how tired she was.

Harvey leaned into her embrace, finding some comfort in her presence. "I was so scared, Maru," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I… I thought I might lose them. I couldn’t bear the thought..."

"I know," she replied softly, stroking his back soothingly with her arm. "But we did it. They're going to be alright."

Her words soothed his heartache slightly, but the fear and worry were not entirely gone. "It was so close," he murmured. "I kept thinking about... I don’t know how… how I could face losing them."

Maru tightened her hold on him. "You didn’t lose them," she said firmly. "They’re here, they’re stable."

Harvey nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to steady himself. He wiped his tears away, his hands still trembling slightly. "Thank you, Maru…”

Z - Zilch: One thing Harvey has zero tolerance for is neglecting your health. He’s deeply invested in your well-being, both as a doctor and someone who genuinely cares about you. When he discovers the extent to which you’ve been mistreating your body—pushing yourself to the brink with back-breaking work, consuming ungodly excessive amounts of caffeine, and only eating when you’re on the verge of collapse—he takes immediate action.

Harvey won't stand by idly while you jeopardize your health. He insists on a complete overhaul of your routine, ensuring you rest properly and eat at regular intervals. He stays up late, anxiously waiting for you to return home. He doesn't allow you to brush off his worries or ignore his advice. Instead, he meticulously checks you over, from head to toe, ensuring there are no lingering issues, as well as making sure you’re cleaned up and cared for properly. —-

Carefully shutting the front door behind you, you let out a small sigh of relief upon seeing that Harvey wasn’t sitting on the couch, waiting for you. While you appreciated his care, it often felt like he was pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion with his worry for you.

Kicking off your mud-caked boots, and hanging up your bag, the feeling of ache of your day's in every movement. Your joints creaked with fatigue, echoing the exhaustion you felt deep inside. You shuffled toward the bedroom, and with a soft, almost hesitant motion, you eased open the bedroom door, hoping to find Harvey peacefully asleep.

As you peered inside, a nervous smile touched your lips when you saw Harvey lift his gaze from his book. The surprise in his eyes quickly transformed into a deep, palpable concern. His eyebrows drew together in a frown, and he set his book aside with a deliberate, almost frantic urgency. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice a mix of worry and curiosity, tinged with the softest edge of frustration as he started to rise from his chair.

You couldn’t help but glance down at your arm, where a large, deep cut looked back at you. The sight of it made you wince involuntarily, and you instinctively tried to shield it from his view, hiding it behind your back. “Nothing, hun,” you said with a strained laugh, attempting to downplay the severity of the situation as you made a clumsy attempt to sidestep him and head toward the bathroom.

But just as you thought you might escape his scrutiny, you felt Harvey’s hands gently but firmly grasp your hips, his touch both grounding and insistent. His fingers were warm and steady, and his gaze was unwavering as he gently guided you back toward him. “Stop,” he said softly but with an unyielding firmness. “Let me see.”

There was no mistaking the depth of his concern, and you knew that any attempt to brush off his worry would be met with resolute insistence. Looking back at him, you saw his eyes locked onto yours, filled with worry. With a resigned sigh, you turned to face him fully, understanding that there was no reason to resist him.

Harvey’s hands were tender yet thorough as he examined the injury on your arm. His touch was careful as if he was afraid to cause you any further discomfort. “What happened?” he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine concern as he guided you towards the bathroom. “I… Uh missed a block…” you said softly, your gaze falling to the bathmat as you sat on the edge of the tub.

He retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink, the soft rustling of its contents filling the otherwise quiet room. Harvey’s sighed out of his nose, his frustration with the situation showing. As he opened the kit, his eyes remained focused on your arm, each glance reflecting the depth of his concern. The usual calmness in his demeanor was now tinged with an edge of anxiety.

Harvey began to clean the wound with meticulous care, his hands moving with a practiced gentleness. The antiseptic stung slightly, but he worked with a soothing, steady touch, trying to work quickly but diligently. The room was quiet, punctuated only by the soft sounds of his movements and the occasional rustle of the first aid supplies.

As he carefully applied the bandage, his brow remained furrowed. “I… I need you to be more careful,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of his concern. “You push yourself too hard, and it worries me.” His eyes now met yours, and the gentle pleading in them was impossible to ignore.

“Harvey—” you started, but he cut you off by cupping your face in his hands, ensuring that your eyes met his.

“Please, I love you,” he said softly but with an undeniable urgency. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. You’re burning yourself out, and it’s taking a toll on you. I need you to take care of yourself—for you, and for me.”

His words, filled with earnestness and affection, wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The sincerity in his voice and the intensity of his gaze made it clear how deeply he felt about your well-being. You nodded slowly, feeling a swell of gratitude and emotion. “I understand,” you said softly. “I’ll try to be better about it, ok.”

Harvey’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. “That’s all I ask,” he murmured into your hair, as he gently rubbed your back.

[slocumjoe]

what the companions get canceled for

Ada; thinks lost and found is a freebie box, will walk into your home if the garage door is open and try to haggle for your shit

Cait; The new Giddyup Buttercups just released, a riot broke out in the store, she emerged the winner. because, y'know. she was fighting moms and their children

Codsworth; assault (ferociously wiping bbq sauce off a strangers face)

Curie; chasing anti-vax protesters with disease samples on q-tips

Danse; slurs

Deacon; the most insane kin drama you have ever seen unfold

Dogmeat; peed on a prized show poodle at the park

Gage; exotic animal ownership and driving a truck that is holding on with duct tape and a prayer. no one finds out about the...other things

Hancock; went to Nuka World, popped some bad, expired chems, and spent a week living in the walls of the attractions, planning an assassination on Cappy

MacCready; chasing anti-vax protesters with knives

Nick; exiled by the Italian community for how he makes spaghetti in the microwave (he's a busy man, it's convenient, it tastes the same, what's the fuss about?)

Old Longfellow; sport hunter

Strong; rushes the stage at a production of Cats and attacks the actors ("Bustopher Jones~, is not skin and bones~, in fact, he's remarkably fa—AAAAAAAAAA–")

Piper; the most insane twitter political hot take thread you have ever seen unfold

Preston; broke HOA rules to start a community garden and sicced children on the HOA board members

X6-88; the only HOA board member that's willing to throw children into traffic if it means digging up Preston's illegal green beans

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro! I’ve been on a mint chocolate chip ice cream kick lately, and it makes me wish I could share a pint with a babe (that’s also probably very much the pre period hormones, but anywayyy) which ice cream flavor do you think you would associate with each of the babes? Their favorite flavor and/or personality trait-wise.

Mint chip is my favorite, too! \o/ I don't get to eat ice cream much, but this was interesting to think about. I will try not to project onto the babes, though, only their pure likes maybe...

Oh snap! I can use the banner again!!! (All characters I've ever written for below.)

James Mace - Neapolitan

When this guy indulges (very rarely), he can't decide on just one flavor, so the easiest thing to do is get multiples. If he can go to a shop where you order by the scoop, he'll ask whoever is behind the counter what the popular or new or their faves are and try three of those. Mace, I believe, can pack away some ice cream.

Curtis Everett - Birthday Cake or Cotton Candy

The sickliest sweet things are a delight to Curtis. He's never gotten over how bland and boring and miserable the food of his childhood was. He goes nuts for sugar overload, but in intensity of taste, not in volume.

Jimmy Dobyne - Peach

Fruity, refreshing, creamy, and just screaming to add a dirty joke onto the end of it, Jimmy will use any excuse to sneak a double-entendre into polite conversation with a pretty lady. "Your peaches taste the sweetest..." Yeah, dessert is more about flirting than it is about eating. Ice cream is nice in the heat, however, so it's a great date option.

Johnny Storm - Cookies & Cream

With extra cookie crumbles and caramel sauce on top, he'll demand. Sprinkles, too, if you have it. Maybe some gummy worms or cereal. At least, like, five cherries. Oh! Also preferred that it be hard frozen when he starts eating so that it's not soup halfway through his rapid eating of it. The sensation of eating ice cream gets lost when he can barely tell it's cold.

Jake Jensen - Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip

This flavor has everything (and yeah, ok, I am projecting a bit on this one, whatever). Jake likes a whole lot of flavors and textures; he's actually not picky at all. He does enjoy ~the hunt~ for this rarer find in all his travels because raspberry is a popular flavor--it's often a sorbet though--but it's not the most popular of the berry options. He also will try all of the crazy niche flavors at hole-in-the-wall places. Conversely, it is easier to work while not holding a bowl or cone, so Jake loves a good milkshake or malt. Those he can sucked down like air.

Lloyd Hansen - Mint Chocolate Chip

My theory is this man is obsessed with fresh: fresh food, fresh sheets, fresh intel, fresh meat. Bet you his lip balm is always, only mint, too. Very classic. Very pristine. Fresh. Sweetness with a purpose.

Ari Levinson - Butter Pecan

Fine, I'm projecting again, idec, but you can't tell me Ari isn't this kind of old soul who loves not-overly-sugary treats! You cannot change my mind. That guy loves the crunch of candied pecans in there, he freaking lives for that rounded slightly-savory sweet cream flavor, and he loves that it's widely available but never sold out anywhere. Easy!

Ransom Drysdale - Coffee

And it's weirdly been that way since he was too young of a kid to drink coffee? Turns out, this was the flavor his father got but told Ransom he wasn't old enough for, he wouldn't like it. Of course, Ran immediately ordered two scoops of it in a chocolate dipped sprinkle cone, and while he may not have been totally keen on it in that exact moment, coffee-flavor grew on him. He loves it as much as he loves all of the other behaviors that say "f*** you" to his parents.

Steve Rogers - Rocky Road

Created during the Great Depression, this ice cream was shared between Steve and his Ma quite a few nights when he was too sickly to go out but needed a pick-me-up. Bucky enjoyed it with him, too, but it's not his favorite. Steve tends to really enjoy eating only when there's nostalgia attached to the food.

Bucky Barnes - Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter

Rich, velvety, and made slightly different by each company. Sometimes Bucky wants ribbons of fudge and the tiny pb cups mixed in; sometimes he wants full-blown chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirled in. Can't go wrong. Only good, heavy, decadent happiness vibes.

I am...stunned at how confident I feel in these choices HA!

Thank you for asking!

[f1ghtsoftly]

Look as a lesbian it sucks to see women cap so hard for men who treat them….so badly but some of the leading lights in the history of feminism in the US/UK were in heterosexual partnerships with men they genuinely loved and went on to accomplish truly important things for women. I can’t say I fully endorse all het women going out and getting themselves a man, because it’s a tricky business and tough to get right.

So all I can say in regard to het women is this:

1.) You should be single for a while and put yourself in separatist environments regularly, because the social pressure to put up with bad behavior from men is *high* and it’s important you surround yourself with people who prioritize you for you if you’re going to withstand it. If those people are lesbians, please don’t talk about your relationship to us constantly, if you find yourself unable to think of anything else that you care about…consider if your partner has other hobbies or interests. Consider the gendered dynamics of you having only him and him having a life.

2.) Any male you end up with is going to be socialized to take advantage of you or other women around you, sometimes a lot, sometimes a little. Men can be human and have lovable qualities and still be misogynistic. Being able to love someone very much-but also refuse to sacrifice yourself to their subconscious (or conscious) beliefs is going to save you. Learn how to do it.

3.) Sometimes….none of it is going to be enough and celibacy is ok. It’s ok to feel so disgusted by patriarchy and men’s treatment of women you’re turned off from men on the whole and it’s definitely ok to feel this way and not be attracted to women. I know a few women actually who are just not interested in men after being treated particularly poorly by them. Women have found platonic companionship with one another for a very long time, just because you don’t want men-doesn’t mean that you’ll be alone.

Ultimately, lesbian feminists shouldn’t be the authority on the happiness of women interested in men but I do think because we prefer the company of women we can sometimes have fresh eyes when women get lost in the patriarchal sauce. And I think lesbian feminists who advocate for separatism come from a good place, I know a lot of wonderful women with good qualities who got lost in relationships with men who don’t value them and it’s very easy to get lost on that road, many people will encourage you and your socialization will work against you. At the same time, I never want to dissuade women from happiness or love or partnership or misrepresent the political project of feminism as being something dependent on one’s relationship status. Ultimately, women do not have to be defined by their relationships, they can be, but it doesn’t have to be so. As a sister who isn’t affected by this challenge, all I can offer is my solidarity, my support and perspective.

[soaps-mohawk]

Ok so I've been marinating this in my head all day like kimchi or pizza sauce.

But! Pacific Northwest reader whose aunt just died and suddenly they have a gorgeous two-story home over in the UK but damn those taxes and shit are killer. They really want to stay, it's so nice and peaceful here. But there's no way their part-time remote salary is going to cover it.

Meanwhile 141 just lost their home base asbestos found in the walls or something. And sure they could take barrack accomodations but also fuck no. So Gaz sees an ad online a sweet little American is looking for 4 roommates. Well damn that seems like providence.

Que the sound "and they were all roommates"

Why can't this be my life 😭

It would be such an adjustment lol. Just four big buff military dudes on your doorstep looking for a place. I'd be intimidated as hell at first but they're polite and they clean up after themselves. Anything needs fixing up? Price is on it. Gaz cooks and introduces you to different kinds of food. Soap and Ghost are like an old married couple and keep you laughing. Need something heavy moved or lifted? You've got a line of four strong men to do it for you. Ghost definitely scares you quite a bit at first, and not even intentionally. He's just so big but he's so quiet. You consider putting a bell on him for a while.

Soap falls first, unsurprisingly, with Gaz a quick second. Ghost and Price take a bit longer, but it's not until you actually start trying to date that they realize they all have feelings for you. It causes some tension at first until they talk it over. They already share and do things together, why not this too? They start sabotaging your dates, quietly at first but then it gets more and more obvious until they start making moves.

It's a bit confusing for you at first, but then you start to realize they're not so bad to have around. Big, protective, helpful, sweet men at your beck and call? Who wouldn't?

[shalomniscient]

in the college au, after takayuki gets arrested for corruption, kujou sara obtains freedom and with the help of many, she decides to slowly untangle herself the chains thst takayuki has tied on her since childhood. i think a change in her college course is a moment that is very likely to happen. law suits her, shes a righteous person and wants to serve othsrs.

but like this me being a bit delusional but what if she decided to study ornithology... like what if takayuki never let her have a pet bird or even study them cause "she shouldn't indulge in pleasantries". everyone hears about this and immediately makes kjsr apply into ornithology and maybe even get a pet crow. i can see her also in the future getting a red honzed lizard.

ofc more logically, she'd be in a course like political science. but i like being delusional!!! im a firm believer she'd be a huge bird nerd...

i just need her to get pampered...

unfortunately i do think sara wouldn’t go into ornithology as a major… but i think she does become an avid birder !! maybe she even unofficially adopts a few crows near her house after feeding them. speaking of pets, she probably gets the first pet of her life after takayuki’s arrest. it’d be the red-horned lizard, and she sinks a good several thousand into his tank. he’s the happiest lizard around and quite affectionate with sara for a reptile.

as for the remainder of her university life, she absolutely destroys her new course. previously she pushed herself because takayuki was pushing her, but now she’s self-motivated by the need to put his ass in jail FOREVER… she becomes a force of nature in her classrooms. professors love her. her peers fear her. anyway, she practices memorising her work by reciting it to you. she paces—marches, really, an old habit from military school—around the room, rattling off legislature and policy. her expression is scrunched a little in concentration, golden eyes intense. and she gets the tiniest proud smile when she gets all the questions right; made even bigger when you set the questions down to take her face in your hands and kiss her silly. she does tend to get lost in the sauce a little when studying, so having you check in periodically with tea, snacks and maybe even a whole meal is something she greatly appreciates. massaging her shoulders and preening her wings for her as she pores over more case studies, since she doesn’t have time to maintain her feathers herself during the exam season. her work is worth it in the end, because she passes the bar on her first try. she returns all your pampering later, of course. in what way, i’ll leave to ur imaginations ;)

[manygeese]

@lost-trio-week day 5: parents

Esperanza Valdez just made sense, Jason thought. Her ghostly figure was entirely silver in color, but Jason could see where Leo got his curls. She had pulled hers back with a bandana, but the way her eyebrows knitted together was very familiar. He could almost imagine her glaring at Festus because he ate all the hot sauce again, like a certain son of Hephaestus he knew.

But Jason had a mission- that certain son of Hephaestus’ birthday was coming up, and he was completely stumped on what to get him. Tools? He literally had a magic tool belt, and that came with all the wrenches, hammers, and breath mints a guy could want. Clothes? Piper had that covered, she was going to take him shopping at the mall that weekend. Books? Dyslexia was a bitch, plain and simple.

Yup, Jason had something of a problem. But! Nico had volunteered to help him, since he was in a similar situation with Leo’s birthday gift. So here they were, on an appropriately dark and spooky summer night, filling a pit with Coca Cola and french fries to summon some ghosts- or one particular ghost. It looked like it had worked.

“Good evening, my lady. I crave a boon,” Jason stated, kneeling before the spirit as one would to an Olympian.

Miss Valdez’s face scrunched up in both humor and confusion. “‘My lady?’ ‘Crave a boon?’ I’m flattered, kid, but I’m no goddess.”

“Sorry, my lady. I mean- ma’am.”

“You can get off of the ground, y’know? Your jeans’ll be ruined if you stay there any longer. Grass stains are tough.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Jason resisted the urge to salute once he was done dusting himself off.

Miss Valdez snickered. “Before you get into craving boons and the like, why don’t you tell me who you are?”

“Jason Grace, former praetor of the 12th Legion Fulminata, current Pontifex Maximus of Camp Jupiter, hero of Olympus, slayer of the titan Krios, ma’am. Um, and more importantly, a friend of Leo’s.”

The ghost’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of her son. “Mi hijo,” she crooned, clasping her hands together. “You’re a friend of mi hijo Leo? How is he?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s doing quite well, ma’am.” He intentionally left out the part about Leo blowing himself up for the good of the world. That was a story for another time.

“How old is he? The clock doesn’t work so well down in the Underworld, it’s still saying BCE. Hard to keep track of time and all. Oh, he must be getting so big.”

Jason chuckled. “He’s fifteen going on sixteen, but nobody’s calling him big.”

Miss Valdez got this wistful look in her eyes. “You have to bring him to see me sometime. I miss him more than anything.”

Nico’s eyes widened and he waved his hands like he was calling a timeout. “I have an idea,” he mouthed, but Jason needed to get his prescription updated, so it looked more like “I have an IKEA.” Or an icee? Yeah, it was probably icee. But Jason knew this to be untrue, since he had just poured his last one into the pit. His brows furrowed, but he smiled politely at the specter before excusing himself. “Um, may I have a moment, ma’am?”

“Of course,” she answered, taking the time to press her ear to the side of a tree like she was trying to open a safe. “God, I haven’t seen real trees in years,” she muttered.

“Do you need more icees?” Jason whispered conspiratorially. “I can run down to the corner store if you need.”

Nico made a face. “What? No, I just have an idea. I was just thinking about what Esperanza said: maybe we could set up a picnic out here and then surprise him with a ghost visit. I know that I like to be ambushed by ghosts when I eat my lunch.” He snorted at his own half-joke.

Jason nodded enthusiastically. “A-and we could ask Miss Valdez about his favorite foods! And make them for him!”

“Hmm? What was that, kid?” Miss Valdez’s head snapped up from where it was trained on a blade of grass swayed in the breeze.

“Um, uh, do you remember what Leo liked to eat as a kid, ma’am?”

“Goodness, you can stop with the ‘ma’am’ thing. But he always loved tres leches cake! I can give you the recipe. And when I had the time, I would make him a grilled cheese for his lunch at school. It would be cold, but he always hugged me extra tight when he got home on those days.” Miss Valdez reached up to tighten her bandana. “Though now that I think about it, he probably just heated it up on his own. Clever boy.”

Jason nearly jumped for joy. He could have hugged her. And he did indeed try, which caused the woman to laugh when he fell through her apparition. “Thank you,” he mumbled into the dirt sheepishly.

“No problem, niño. Really, I should be thanking you! Fresh air is nothing short of a miracle when you’ve been dead as long as I have,” Miss Valdez responded, clearly joking, but something in her eyes said she was sincere. She had big, round ones, that were probably a wonderful shade of brown when she was alive.

Yeah, Jason thought he had hit the jackpot gift wise.

~*~

If you were to look up the definition of “tryhard”, a picture of Tristan McLean would pop up, Leo thought. Then again, he’d also appear if you looked up any of the following terms: bombshell, hot, gorgeous, gay awakening, etc.

He was on a quest with Will and Clarisse (God, that lady scared him- like she was cool and all, but he would be relieved when she left for Arizona at the end of summer). It was a classic “we don’t have phones nor do we trust the post, so you have to go give Camp Jupiter X, Y and Z” quest, but long story short, hellhounds sucked a lot and Leo’s legs were tired.

Chiron and the praetors of Camp Jupiter had been working on a sort of housing system for demigods- a network of safe havens all across the country. Piper’s dad had signed up as soon as possible, now that he knew a little about the demigod world. That had been one hell of a conversation.

So that was how he ended up sitting on the floor of a millionaire’s gigantic living room, tinkering with the skeleton of a Stymphalian bird, with a scary lady snoring on the couch behind him and a lanky blonde dude curled up on an armchair in front. He had taken the opportunity to catch up on some of his favorite shows while he had access to a TV.

“Hey, kid.”

Nothing like a spooky voice to wake a guy up!

Leo startled, making the Stymphalian bird fly up in the air. For one second, he almost thought it was alive again, so he reached for his tool belt.

“Woah, there,” the voice laughed, “hold your horses. It’s just me. Piper’s dad? You didn’t pull a Jason and forget your entire life, right?”

Leo snorted. “You weren’t even there for that part!”

Mr. McLean stepped forward into the dim light of the lamp. Yup, just as Leo suspected: he had a chronic case of looking-good-in-whatever-lighting-he-was-in-itis. Then again, he had already diagnosed his friend’s father with that condition last Christmas, when he spent the holidays with Jason at Camp Jupiter.

Truth be told, Leo was getting a little tired of the man. All throughout dinner Mr. McLean had been all “is there enough salt on it? Do you need more? What do you want to drink? Can I get you anything else? Tell me if you need anything.” At first, he had preened under the attention, but right now, what he needed was some time to get the logistics of his pet project figured out.

“What are you working on?” Mr. McLean asked politely.

“Carrier pigeon,” he answered.

“Nice. What’s it do?”

“Carries things.”

Mr. McLean smiled. “Why do you need it?”

“So, like, you know how we were sent here to deliver some important documents or whatever? Next time, this little guy is gonna do it for us. If I can figure out how to animate said little guy’s skeleton again, that is.”

“How are you gonna animate it?”

As a mechanic, Leo admired the fact that Mr. McLean was so persistent, but as a teen, he wished he would give up already. “I dunno.”

Mr. McLean gave him a soft, slightly awkward smile, like he was still trying to get used to using his facial muscles. “Listen, Leo,” the man sighed, “it’s getting late. You should sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Oh, wait!” Leo snickered at his own joke.

“What?”

Oh, shit. He forgot that he and Piper had left that part out of the explanation of the demigod world they had given to Mr. McLean. Damn, that line would’ve killed with anyone else. Haha, see what he did there? “Uh, nothing. Ignore it.”

“No, what did you mean by that? ‘Oh, wait?’”

“Uh, I died,” Leo mumbled, hoping that he wouldn’t ask again.

Much to Leo’s chagrin, Mr. McLean asked again. Yay. “Huh?”

Leo decided to take a different route. “I died! I’m a ghost! Boo! All that jazz!”

The man snorted, though he still looked confused. “Alright. But you know what they say about ghosts- they sleep like the dead.”

Despite himself, Leo laughed. “That’s silly.”

“Not as silly as ghosts. They’re too boo-fy!”

Leo giggled. “God, that’s bad. Was-” he managed before succumbing to his laughter once again- “was that supposed to be goofy?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who’s a ghost, after all.”

“I’m not goofy. No, siree,” Leo denied.

“Oh really?” Mr. McLean ruffled his hair and pulled him up so that he was standing. He patted him on the shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I can fool anyone, really,” Leo quipped. “I fooled Jason and Piper into being my best friends.”

Mr. McLean guided him towards a hallway that opened at one side of the living room. Leo could see that he was furrowing his dark brows. “What makes you say you fooled them?”

Leo shrugged, scowling inwardly. He just had to ruin it, didn’t he? “I mean, technically it was Hera.”

Mr. McLean shook his head. “I’m serious, Leo.”

Leo laughed awkwardly. “Hi serious, I’m dead?”

Mr. McLean frowned as he opened one of the doors in the corridor. It revealed a blank bedroom, probably for a guest. Desperate to get out of the conversation, Leo moved to go inside, but Mr. McLean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a concerned look. “People like you for you. You know that, right? You’ve never had to trick anybody worth anything into liking you. Remember that.” He tapped his temple to emphasize his point.

Leo gave a small, confused, sort of self-conscious smile, but it was still a smile. “Thanks, Mr. McLean.” Leo waddled over to the bed and collapsed on it, suddenly feeling very tired. It was only when he saw the door close completely that he realized he’d been tricked by his best friend’s dad into going to bed at an appropriate time. “Good game, Mr. McLean. Good game indeed.”

~*~

The Underworld kind of sucked, Piper found, especially when you were on a quest with an immortal huntress who was your best friend’s sister and the demigod equivalent of a Spirit Halloween, AKA Thalia Grace and Nico di Angelo. She had no problems with the people by themselves, but she had gotten sick of their arguing long before the murderous mania of a former blonde bombshell descended upon them.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. She had made plans with Leo and Jason to meet up at a trampoline park, but then a fury showed up out of nowhere and whisked her away to what was effectively Hell, and it was like, this whole thing. Apparently, the lady had gotten her confused with Percy. One hell of a typo.

They had been headed to the fields of punishment because someone had escaped and Hades decided to make it their problem. Classic Gods. Their charge walked straight into them in the form of Beryl Grace.

“Nico, why isn’t she dying?” Thalia barked, shooting another round of arrows at the ghost, which just succeeded in embedding their silver tips in the tree behind it. She released a roar like that of thunder, although it could’ve just been the actual thunder from the lightning she was summoning. A bolt of it came down on Beryl’s head, but it just made her look slightly more insane.

The woman’s red lipstick was a stain on her otherwise pale face, twisting up in a mad smile. It was smudged. Maybe she had been kissing someone, or more likely drinking their blood. Her blue eyes were crazed, darting around like a prey animal.

She had seen that look before.

When Jason had woken up, after the fight with Ma Gasket, he’d shot upwards and whipped his head around. She had looked into his sky blue eyes and seen a deer and a hunter at the same time, ready to fight, not quite ready to die.

And his smile was a sign the apple had indeed fallen far from the tree, but the twitching of Jason’s lips when he hadn’t yet learned to laugh (or hadn’t accepted that he could) was reminiscent of the grin’s neverending movement.

“She’s a ghost, dumbass, she can’t die again,” Nico snapped. He had dropped his sword into the river Lethe, so he just stood there like a fuming GTA NPC.

Piper was the only one to notice that Beryl was backing up towards the forest, aiming to disappear into the fields of Asphodel most likely. “Guys?” She asked, looking around to the other two members of the quest. They were still squabbling. “Guys!”

“I’ve killed a ghost before! At least, I’m pretty sure I could,” Thalia yelled.

“What part of non-corporeal do you not understand?” Nico screamed.

Piper reluctantly began following the spirit just as it bolted into the woods. She swiped a rock up from the dusty forest floor, just to have something on her in case she had to attack. Look, she usually carried Katoptris on her, but she was worried they were going to confiscate it at the trampoline park, okay?

The only sound was the thump of her footfalls, puffs of her breath, and the whooshing sound Beryl made as she passed through trees. The branches were hanging low and, fortunately in most cases except this one, Piper was not a ghost, so she had to bat them out of the way. She was getting pretty damn tired of it. Apparently, ghosts could run fast. “Uh, Beryl- I mean, Miss Grace, can I get your autograph?” She tried.

The ghost’s head snapped back to face her. The gash in her midriff was bleeding somehow, leaking steam and a smell like rain. A piece of car door and shards of glass were lodged in the gap, signs of her death. Her fists clenched and unclenched anxiously at her sides. She stayed rooted in her place. “An autograph?”

“Yup,” Piper confirmed, rocking back and forth from her heels to her toes. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Beryl’s pointer and middle fingers twitched and she brought them to her mouth. She looked disappointed by the fact that they were merely flesh (or the ghost equivalent), no cigarette in sight. Her bloodshot eyes met Piper’s as she fumbled with the fabric of her dress. She grunted. “Oh, yeah? What’s your favorite?”

“Me and my dad watch your TV shows together,” Piper lied.

“Mhm,” Beryl hummed placatingly, turning around with her shaking fingers pressed to her mouth. Her glazed eyes disappeared under her dull blonde hair. “Just go get the groceries, Thalia.”

“Thalia? Um, Miss Grace, I’m not Thalia.” Piper followed, stifling a cough when she breathed in some of the fog.

“Nonsense, Thalia. I know you’re just trying to get out of it, you lazy brat,” Beryl spat. “Go get the goddamn groceries.”

“I… I don’t have any money.”

The ghost heaved a deep sigh. “Just get out of the house, Thalia. Mommy needs some alone time.”

Piper tried not to visibly recoil when the woman pushed her away, cold hand going right through her ribcage. “B-but, Miss Grace-”

“Thalia,” the spirit growled, frigid hands landing on both of her wrists, momentarily becoming solid, “I will not say it again, you little bitch.” Her tone was uneven and hostile. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Piper’s forearms were completely numb where Beryl’s hands had covered them. The woman began to retreat mumbling something to herself that barely reached Piper’s ears:

“The day I get rid of those ungrateful little rats will be the happiest day of my life.”

Oh, yeah. This was the lady who left Piper’s best friend to the wolves at the tender age of two. Of course she was an asshole. Regretting not doing it earlier, Piper gripped the rock in her hand and made a last ditch effort to hurt the woman who had deprived Jason of what family felt like for so long. And if it let her, Nico, and Thalia finish their quest, that was a happy accident.

The stone split open on Beryl’s head, revealing an inky black ore on the inside. Stygian Iron. Huh. Piper guessed Tyche was on her side that day.

Thalia and Nico’s footsteps crunched in the dirt behind her, their yelps of belayed victory echoing around Piper, falling on deaf ears. Her gaze was still focused on Beryl’s unconscious head, hair spilling around her face. Her blue eyes weren’t open, but somehow, they were staring straight into Piper’s soul.

For a split second, Piper’s eyes flitted over to Thalia’s. She was glad she couldn’t completely understand the rage she found there. Now that she thought about it, she had seen that look in Jason’s eyes an unsettling amount of times.

[covid-safer-hotties]

I do mean this very genuinely - given what you’ve said about the Democrats and their handling of Covid, do you plan on voting third party/for no one? If you’re voting third party, who do you recommend? Thank you 💕

I already voted 3rd party as I have for over a decade now. Weird how the world hasn't ended yet and the Democrats haven't moved left in nearly 20 years as the blue-no-matter-who crowd claims will happen every 4 years if we just follow their non-strategy.

Jill Stein, Claudia de la Cruz, and Jasmine Sherman all have platforms addressing public health and covid, so you should do a little research and figure out who is on the ballot/you can write in who best represents the policy you want to see. I think that it's far more important to try and build community and awareness than it is to vote: We live in a republic, not a democracy, so policy promises often dissappear after the election for the Republicans and Democrats because they're both going to bat for the same team and our votes only matter in validating the choices of the ruling class. You've gotta try to make contact with covid-safe people in your area. See if there is a mask bloc near you and join in if they need help. Hand out free masks at community events. Be ready to protest if and when someone tries to pass a mask ban in your neck of the woods.

People get so wrapped up in the distraction of voting, they completely forget that other political issues continue to exist under both parties. Highlight that: neither major party addresses covid, wealth inequity, disability rights, black and native liberation, peace, climate change, or queer existence in an adequate way. You don't owe them a thing until they start going to bat for you. Give your vote to someone you feel cares for you and the issues that matter to you. Don't get lost in the sauce.

[t-saan]

Terok Nor gothic

Since the original post seemed to have made a few people happy, here is part 2.

• There are voles in the acces tunnels. You get rid of them. Sometimes, you hear things moving in the walls. There are voles in the acces tunnels.

• There is a major Bajoran holiday coming up. Every time you ask someone what is it about, you get a different answer. Most of them are contradictory. Eventually, the day comes. Kai Winn is fistfighting Commander Sisko on the Promenade. People are cheering.Major Kira says that it is the will of the Prophets. Gul Dukat is also there for some reason.

• There is one replimat on the Promenade which always gives you a serving of yamok sauce with your order. It is not programmed to do it. In fact, all the replimats operate on the same system and only this one does it. You slowly begin to like yamok sauce.

• The Cardassian anthem is blasting through the intercom system. Everyone is on the thin edge between a complete mental collapse and hunting Chief O'Brian and the entire engineering crew down with a laser torch for their inability to fix it. The Cardassian tailor denies hearing anything at all, but he is humming along the entire time. Someone calls Gul Dukat. The moment he beams onto the station, the noise is gone. He leaves, complaining about Federation pranks. The second he is gone, the music is back.

• The security systems are running amok. Commander Sisko calls Gul Dukat. Bajorans are demanding some long lost artifact back from Terok Nor, but nobody knows where it is. Commander Sisko calls Gul Dukat. Commander Sisko struggles with his love life. He calls-

• You are stationed on Deep Space 9. Your mailing adress is Terok Nor. Terok Nor doesn’t exist any more. Your mail is always delivered on time. You are stationed on Terok Nor.

• The water in the shower has two default settings - hot and hotter. You manage to turn it down, eventually. The concerned voice of Gul Dukat begins lecturing you on the risk of space pneumonia from the intercom. There is a cup of hot tea and a blanket in the replicator. Trurly, the State cares for you.

• You cut your arm badly while crawling through an access tunnel. You go to the infirmary to see doctor Bashir. He is not there. You go to look for him in the Cardassian tailor's shop. He is not there either, but in his absence, the tailor offers to stitch you up. You politely refuse. He insists. In the end, you get a new shirt, stitches, and a crash-course in hotwiring shuttlecrafts. Doctor Bashir shows up eventually. He is dressed for tennis.

• There is a saying on Terok Nor, that if you say Gul Dukat's name three times in front of an intercom, he will appear. Everyone, including Dukat, is at loss as to why it happens.

• The one time someone spilled the Chef of Security onto a carpet during a surprise fire drill is not discussed. Ever.

• Most of the station is not in use. It is easy to get lost in the corridors, or the ore processing facilities, or the old interrogation rooms. There are no interrogation rooms on Terok Nor. There have never been any interrogation rooms on Terok Nor.

• Everyone is secretly jealous of the Cardassian uniforms. They are OSHA compliant, fire resistant, have pockets and don’t look like pajamas. You also don't have to entirely take them off just to go to the bathroom.

• You saw a tailor take out twenty armed men with a toothpick and an empty kanar bottle. He was drunk and bickering with Gul Dukat the entire time. Nobody back home believes you.

• Something is curating your literary experiences. Onr day, you leave your PADD with 'Sweet love on Andor' open. When you pick it up a few hours later, it's changed to 'The Never Ending Sacrifice'. In original Cardassian. You read it anyway. It’s been a few years since that would have made a difference.

• One time, you had to go through the wormhole ten times in the span of an hour. When you came back, all socks in your drawer had the seam the other way round. You asked your friend about it. They said all socks always looked like that. You are quite sure you switched universes at sone point that day, but you didn't do anything about it. The new socks are better by far.

[fatliberation]

ok i know this is a dumb question but like what’s the community for? is it so we just like have a place to talk about fat related things and politics? sorry, i think it’s a super cool idea i just always get lost in the sauce of what a community is supposed to do or mean and stuff

tbh haven’t really figured out what the hell tumblr communities are… but yes, it’s kind of like a private dashboard for people interested in one topic - so I guess if you post a variety of things on your blog that people might not follow you for but you wanna post about fat lib to this particular audience, that’s a good place to do it? I’m also hoping it will shield us from fatphobic trolls a lot better.

[ambassadorarlert]

and if all the politics is making you anxious, then it’s alright to take a break and look away. unplug for a minute and ground yourself with a hobby or skill that’s not on a screen. regulate your nervous system. don’t get wrapped up and lost in the sauce because it’ll only make you feel worse.