#Hopefully this answered most of your questions about the thought I've put into it at least haha ♪

[pathologicalreid]

Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just�� I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

[livelaughloveluffy]

Hiiiiii!!! I love ur writing :DDD

can I request a fic where reader is gender neutral and they always are super happy/hyper about seeing their boyfriend (monster trio) but they are quiet around others and super adorbs :)

oki thank u if u do get around to writing this :) <3

(I am feral for one piece men) 😭😭

shy reader with monster trio

a/n: thank you so much for your ask!!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to get around to, i've been buried in a bunch of drafts and busy with finals and finally remembered how long some of these requests have been sitting in my inbox 😭😭😭 i'm so happy to hear that you enjoy my work!! hopefully i do some justice to your request!!

a/n: again, i'm so so sorry for how long this took but i had lots of fun writing this!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-luffy isn't the most observant people when it comes to social cues, so for awhile he didn't exactly notice how shy you were around the rest of the crew. the captain is a very busy man, and with his short attention span it wasn't often that he gets completely focused on just watching you from afar.

-when he really thought about it, he always pictured you with a wide bright smile on your face. your body practically vibrating with excitement whenever you say his name. it was hard for him to imagine you any other way.

-luffy only noticed after you were telling him a story at breakfast time, animated and giggling, suddenly become shy and soft spoken when one of the other crew members chirped up to ask you a question. his mouth full with food, watching as you diverted eye contact, lowered your voice, and bashfully answered.

-he'll immediately point it out once he notices. luffy practically chokes on his food, gasping as he shouts out "since when are you shy?!" you explain to him after breakfast that you were always shy, but somehow just not around him. he's so excited that he's the special person to bring you out of your shell, peppering your face with kisses as he tells you how adorable that is.

black leg sanji

-unlike the captain, sanji notices this trait of yours immediately. and he can't help but find it adorable. when he's not busy in the kitchen or directly spending time with you, sanji loves to just watch you do your own thing, whether that's hanging out with other members of the crew, reading on the deck, practicing combat, or anything in between.

-so when he's approaching you and robin to offer some afternoon beverages while you read, the sound of your voice, which was softer than usual, stands out to him. when the two of you are together, you're confident, not afraid to loudly proclaim in what you believe. so imagine his shock and surprise to see you meekly address your thoughts on the novel you and robin were discussing.

-seeing this other side of you is a happy surprise for sanji, and a sight he savors and commits to memory. he'll definitely bring it up later when it's just the two of you, curiosity getting the better of him.

-when you finally explain to him "i've always been pretty shy, sanji. there's just something about you that makes it so much easier to not be." sanji is so honored to be a safe space for you to be yourself, he'll kiss you on the forehead and reply "i'm happy to help, mon amour."

roronoa zoro

-he would notice instantly, but wouldn't really bring it up. zoro is the type of guy to really pay attention to his significant other. always watching them from afar, silently paying attention to their little quirks and taking note of them.

-zoro loves to sneak up on your in conversations, silently watching you while you don't notice his presence. watching as his usually bubbly partner is shy and soft-spoken without him. he'll walk over to you, putting his arm around your shoulder or on top of your head, and make some playful teasing comment about it.

-sometimes he gets a little surprised when he sees you get nervous, because he's so used to seeing you so open and honest with him, unashamed, and so utterly proud of yourself. zoro definitely makes a point to praise you and build up your self esteem. he really loves watching it pay off and slowly grow confident without him.

-zoro loves every single side of you, he has no preference to whether or not you're a bit shy. as long as you're happy and comfortable, so is he. zoro is also super good at meeting you where you are, being able to match your own vibe with ease.

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @irethepotato @dindjarins1ut @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @beansluvsmilo @erose-0707 @vamphoria @twiishaa @peachycat17 @sanji-soup @lilypadmomentum @ermbehindyou @erose-0707 @suga-tofu @thepotatocatto;

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a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[vbecker10]

Hey odd request but I have a lot of tummy issues could you write Loki comforting reader with tummy cramps.

Tummy Troubles

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Loki discovers you curled up in your bed trying to deal with your stomach issues and offers to help you feel better.

Warnings: 🤷‍♀️ stomach issues, mention of throwing up previously, feeling ill but not specific illness mentioned... there will be fluff!

A/N: I'm really really sorry this took so long! I've been having a rough time finding inspiration but last night, while I was curled up in a ball trying not to die from my own stomach issues, I came up with the idea for this fic in an effort to distract myself. Thank you for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand for the second time and you groan, gripping the sheet around you tighter as your stomach cramps and your body shivers. After what feels like forever, the pain subsidies but you still can't force your body to move so you can reach your phone.

You've been laying curled up in a near fetal position for at least the last hour, even since you dragged yourself back to bed after loosing the battle to keep from throwing up your lunch. Even the slightest movement brings a wave of nausea so you've decided your best bet is to stay perfectly still until you finally fall asleep which will hopefully be soon but you doubt it. You're utterly exhausted but as far from sleep as possible. This is not a new feeling unfortunately, once every other month or so your stomach decides to revolt against you for seemingly no reason.

Closing your eyes tightly, you feel chills run up your spine as your stomach cramps. Your muscles slowly relax and just as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, your phone buzzes for a third time.

You don't need to check it to know who keeps calling, it's Loki. He was due back from his mission roughly half an hour ago and somewhere in the last six months, it became a habit of his to call you to let you know he landed. You thought it was sweet and normally you couldn't wait to hear his voice again but there was no way you would let your ridiculously attractive best friend see you sweaty, nauseous and curled up in pain.

The doors open for the elevator and Loki steps inside, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring over and over. When he hears your voice mail pick up, he sighs and ends the call without leaving a message.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Loki walks into the kitchen in the common area in an effort to locate you. Instead, he finds Wanda and Natasha making tea and discussing their plans for the evening.

"Have either of you seen Y/N recently?" Loki asks, trying to keep from sounding overly concerned.

"She didn't come to our last two meetings," Natasha answers. "She's sick, some stomach thing I think."

"Thanks, I'll go check on her," Loki says then he leaves the kitchen, walking down the hall to your apartment.

He knocks, waiting a moment but when you don't answer he lets himself in like he has dozens of times before. He sighs when you're not on the couch like he had hoped you would be. He looks around your dark apartment and realizes that means you're in your bedroom. He walks towards the closed door and pauses.

The door is always closed when he's come over and he often found himself wondering what your bedroom was like or more specifically what your bed was like. What color sheets did you have? Was your mattress soft or firm? Did you sleep on the left side or the right side? What he wondered most often though, was what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around you. He'd never ask you any of those questions of course but now he was about to find out the answer to most of them.

Loki knocks on your bedroom door, putting his ear to the dark wood and hears a soft groan in response.

Your bedroom door opens slowly and you pull the thin sheet tighter around yourself. Despite your back facing the door, you can immediately tell by the sound of his leather boots that it's Loki.

"Are you okay, love?" Loki asks. "Natasha said you were sick."

"Go away," you mumble, squeezing your eyes closed as your stomach cramps. You feel the bed dip lightly as he sits on the edge and you groan. "Don't move the bed," you force the words out, afraid speaking will trigger your nausea as it often does.

Loki gets up quickly and apologizes, "Sorry."

You can feel him watching you but you can't move to face him. Part of you wants him to leave, close the door on his way out and act like he never saw you here. The other part of you desperately wants him to hold you until you fall asleep.

"Let me help you," he says finally.

"I'm fine Loki, you can go," you say through gritted teeth and the instant you hear your voice you know the God of Lies isn't going to believe that.

"Y/N," he says softly as he sits gently on the bed again, careful not to move it as much as before. "I can make you feel better if you're sick."

"How?" you ask then cringe in pain as your stomach cramps tightly, a second later you feel something unexpected. Loki's chest presses lightly against your back as he lays on your bed next to you.

"I can use my magic to heal you. I've used it to heal wounds and illnesses before," Loki explains as his arm wraps around you, his hand settling on your stomach gently. "Just relax love, this will only take a moment."

You nod but you're body remains stiff, you've spent almost every night for the last three or four months wishing you could lie in bed with Loki but this is not how you wanted it to happen. Your attention is drawn to Loki's fingers as they begin to glow green, his seider spreading slowly over your body.

Almost instantly, your stomach settles as the cramps release and the nausea subsides completely. You find yourself inching closer to Loki as the chills fade and the only things you feel are tired and comfortable. Your hand covers Loki's, his seider fading once the spell has finished healing you.

You nod and smile, "So much better. Thanks Loki."

"Better?" he asks quietly, his lips a few inches from your ear. 'Black cotton sheets, firm mattress, left side of the bed,' Loki thinks, answering the questions he had about your bed, a smile spreads across his lips as his fingers intertwine with yours. The only thing left for him to do was try to hold you for as long as possible since he wasn't sure when our if he'd get to do it again.

Your eyes flutter open. "No," you reply quietly, still holding his hand to keep his arm around your body. "Please stay."

"Of course, love," he answers.

You yawn, closing your eyes for a moment. You've cuddled with previous boyfriends but Loki was so much more comfortable than you had imagined he could be.

"I'll leave so you can rest," Loki suggests even though it's the last thing he wants to do.

He shifts as close to you as he can, thrilled by your request, "Okay love."

You yawn again, struggling to keep your eyes open and in your exhausted state you find yourself asking Loki something you've wanted to know for months. "Why do you keep calling me love? You never call anyone else that."

Loki places a soft kiss to your neck, just below your ear and whispers so quietly you barely hear him, "Because I love you."

You smile as your eyes close and just as you slip off to sleep you whisper back, "I love you too."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @sabspoetic @anukulee @lovinglokilaufeyson @beaniemoon

[transyashiro]

Hi, genuine question, why transandrophobia is not real? I just thought it was a word to describe the transphobia specifically targeted to transmascs, but if that is not the case id like to be corrected. Also your art is so beautiful I love it!

hey anon. firstly, thank you, i'm glad you like my art. secondly, i am at the end of the day just a guy who draws sometimes. this is a question which was already answered many times by transfeminists on here, and ideally you'd want to get the perspectives of tma people rather than mine. and just in general, keep up with discussions of transmisogyny and listen to transfems, yeah?

all that said, since you are asking me personally... to put it as simply as i can: transandrophobia, or transmisandry, is not real because misandry is not real. that should be the end of the discussion, really. there is no need for a special word to describe transphobia targeted at transmascs, because transphobia and/or other forms of oppression (real ones, Not misandry) depending on any particular situation already cover everything. why is there a desire for a special word to begin with, anyway? girls got one, we want one too? c'mon

but also like, all that aside, regardless of how real or not real transandrophobia is, it is a dog whistle. if someone associates with the transandrophobia crowd, they are most likely a transmisogynist. that should be enough of a reason to steer away from those guys and not trust them. sure, some posts by them might seem compelling or validating at a glance, i've definitely seen younger trans guys who don't know any better start looking in that direction because they feel like they are finally being given a tool to discuss their experiences. i assume that's partially why your question is framed like that, too, because a simple "we just want a word to discuss our oppression" is a lot more convincing than "we hate trans women and want to make them out to be the true oppressors" or "we're just men rights activists but with a trans flag, which also means that we are incapable of oppressing trans women because of our inherent connection to womanhood. don't worry about what that logic implies about our views of trans women" or... you get the picture. it's transmisogyny through and through, you don't even need to dig much

again, i hope you'll look more into what trans women have to say on this, it would do more good than my short clumsy explanation, but hopefully it at least gives you some vague idea

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if He is too much in love with the reader, but she is younger than him (I mean Armando is obviously twenty-eight but the reader is still in his 20s) I would appreciate it very much, I love you 💗🌷✨

I don't know how many times I've ordered, but here I am again 🛐🙃♥️

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍:

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍����: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑!𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: how would armando be when loving a girl who’s 10 years younger than him? armando is 32 and the reader is 22.

-> theme: age gap, comedy, suggestive.

-> format: headcanon/drabble.

-> warnings: mention of age gap relationships, mature language.

-> authors note: i’m going to be putting updates out slower since I’m not that well guys. nevertheless i hope you enjoyed! I love your requests!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 🌸

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆:

-> older!armando would literally first meet you when he picked his son, Alejandro, up from class.

-> it would be the first time meeting you as you’re a new teacher in the school.

-> so when he came to pick up his son, it’s safe to say you was utterly shocked at the resemblance and at the way they both acted.

-> Armando displayed the same cheekiness Alejandro did, smiling at you as his son was going on about his day.

-> “Parece que realmente disfruta de tus clases.”

-> “he’s a lot like you.”

-> “they say that, gotta come see from the source though, eh?”

-> oh.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> you found out that Armando is divorced ,

honestly you was kind of happy.

-> it may be inappropriate to admire your own student’s father but what can you do if he’s the most attractive man you’ve saw in your life.

-> he noticed your staring but didn’t mind, he thought you was the most beautiful woman to exist too.

-> so he took his chances and asked you out.

-> to which you accepted.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀.

-> he took you to an 90s themed restaurant where old school rnb was playing, wanting you to hear the music that was around when he was younger.

-> getting to know each other, you found out that he was a business owner. Having multiple offices around Miami helping those to build their perfect house.

-> “all those beautiful houses you see in Miami, i’ve built most of them.”

-> “i never would’ve imagined that’s the work you do.”

-> seeing him laugh and smile literally made your heart warm. “what can i say? i like getting my hands a bit dirty.”

-> you nearly choked on your drink. Armando was definitely enjoying seeing you flustered, making these tiny comments from even the moment he met you.

-> ordering food, you both ate and enjoyed each others presence.

-> “¿Te importa que sea mayor que tú?”

-> your eyes widened at the question. Putting your utensils down, you looked up at him to which he waiting for your answer.

-> “You would be the oldest man i’ve ever spoken to romantically but i don’t object to the idea of it.”

-> He smiled at that. “Good.”

-> after the date, he drove you back home as it was a little bit after 9pm. You thanked him and then kissed his cheek as a thank you.

-> wanting more, he lightly turned your face to his and gave you a peck on your lips. Making you blush at his bold advance.

-> “Hopefully i’ll see you again soon.”

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[🌸] 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄:

-> it’s been a couple months into yours and Armando’s relationship.

-> Honestly one of the healthiest relationships you’ve been in.

-> he always picks you up from work, not wanting you to walk back anymore, especially after a long day.

-> you always stay over at his on the weekend, relaxing with him and Alejandro by watching some movies or even going out to the park.

-> The age gap between you and Armando can be visible at some points, especially when it comes to social media.

“Nena, ¿sabes qué es tiktok?”

-> You nearly laughed at him even mentioning it. “What do you know about tiktok?”

“My employees told me to download it but i just don’t get the app.”

“Stick to facebook babe.”

-> even with things like his email, you noticed that he was using @yahoo.com

“Who uses yahoo email?!”

“Me.”

-> nevertheless, you wouldn’t trade the relationship for anything else, inheriting both a family and a man who loves you for you. Bombarding you with compliments everyday.

-> “You look absolutely stunning today babe.”

“New hair?”

“Looks great on you.”

-> Life was great, even with a man who’s 10 years older than you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 

“Parece que realmente disfruta de tus clases.”: he seems to really enjoy your classes.

“ ¿Te importa si soy mayor que tú?”: Do you mind if i’m older than you?

“Nena, ¿sabes qué es tiktok?”: Baby, what is tiktok?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @dyttomori @tyneshaaa @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @sarcasticbitchsblog @armandosbabymama @thedarkworldofhananerea @amplifiedmoan @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @5tarlan7

[nondelphic]

how do you come up with a new relatable writing post every hour??? /hj

short answer: i don't ( ╥ ᴗ ╥)

long answer: i'm usually busy with uni or something else so if i have a random idea i note it down in a google doc or if i have time i directly put it into my tumblr queue. but mostly my process is i spend about an hour or two every few days dedicated to coming up with new posts and adding them to my tumblr queue. i update this blog 10 times a day so i need a lot of posts hahah

sometimes i don't have time due to being extra busy, and then i'll take a short hiatus to get back on track. i prefer not posting for a few days and then get back to 10 posts a day over just posting once or twice a day.

and to answer your question of "how"... i don't know... lol. most of my posts these days are similar to what i've posted before, whether it's content-wise or structure-wise. i just checked and i have over 1300 posts rn (i started this blog in august 2024), so it's definitely a challenge to come up with "new" posts.

i have a few vague "categories" of posts i can pull ideas from, for example, genre-specific writing posts, where i just go through every literary genre i can think of and write a (hopefully) relatable post for that genre, or posts about specifically editing, etc. these categories somewhat help me come up with new ideas because it's more niche than another "i love and hate writing at the same time" post.

anyway, you probably didn't want this long of an answer, but i thought i'd answer it regardless, lol. thanks for the ask, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night/whatever! ♡

[inc0mple]

🗝️ ”Keys Are People, Too” 100 Chapter Q&A ⭐️ (ongoing!)

(Last edit: 12/20 10:40 CST)

Hi! :) If y’all don’t know me my name is Inco (it’s not but shh) and I write a fanfiction for Cinderella Boy called Keys Are People, Too. It’s not finished, it’s ongoing and rapidly approaching 100 chapters XD (yes we are like four chapters away but shh rounding) (I PROMISE WE’RE ALMOST TO THE LAST ACT). So because of an ask from @isitamia and, we’ll say the 100 chapter milestone… tada Q&A??

I don’t know how many people are going to engage with this but that’s totally okay :) I love ranting about stuff and I’ve put a lot of thought into this story, so it would be cool to have an outlet to answer some questions where they don’t get forgotten in AO3 comments. And if you guys also have general questions about writing advice/things like that, I am not an expert but I do also like talking about stories.

So please ask! I’m not planning to close this at any specific time—I was thinking y’all could comment questions under this post or via reblogs (I might miss them in reblogs though) and I will edit this post to answer them, and also reply to you so you know your question is answered. This might get like 10 notes and that’s fine haha (I have zero idea how many people regularly read my story beyond the ones who leave comments), but if there are a lot of questions I’ll try to categorize them. Really just a place to drop info for fun :)

Q&A below ⬇️

I tried to make it organized. It's... kind of organized. Kind of.

Plot/Characters

"What key archetype isn't one of the siblings? Do we get to know their archetypes soon?" asked by @spookieee28 12/20

I'm not gonna say the archetypes at this point in time because it risks spoilers. You will find out by the end of the story and hopefully by that points all of the archetypes should be relatively clear. Some have already been mentioned like the chapter "Heralds and Thieves" for Jade and Cooper, I think (?) Cora has been mentioned as the Innocent archetype, etcetera.

"Which character do you struggle writing the most and which feels easier for you, if you have preferences?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

"Do you ever struggle with keeping Cinderella Boy's canon characters in character?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

I'll answer both of these together. Chase is pretty easy for me because I just channel chaotic gremlin energy and it seems to work. Buddy is OKAY although I am struggling right now making him vulnerable while still retaining him Buddy-ish-ness if that makes sense? Deacon is just Deacon... I am sorry, I feel like I don't really do anything to characterize him, he's just there as a sounding board XD I will say- I daydream situations for CB ALL THE TIME which gives me a lot of comfortability with the canon characters and considering what they would do and say and how they would react. I do have a little bit of difficulty characterizing the human keys so I just kinda went like "oh WELL that's because, UUHHHH, the key siblings don't match the keys exactly! That's it that's the answer!" because I felt like Silver wasn't quite Silver-ish and stuff. As for struggling writing the most I have two main answers.

BRONTE. For those who maybe haven't read this but are scrolling through it anyway, or aren't there yet, Bronte is the "human" version of Bronze and I kinda accidentally eliminated him from the story until like... the 80th chapte ror something like that. I had a lot of trouble actually writing his dialogue and scenes with Chase. It just did not have Bronze's snarky energy. So that was tough and I feel bad because I really feel like I did not do him justice :c

DUKE RAVENELL!!!!!! Ravenell hates me. He gives me so much trouble primarily because I just plunked him in at the beginning and didn't give him a real personality beyond a few vague notions. I've really had to sculpt his character as I went and it's especially difficult because Ravenell is intended to do a lot of plot device-ing. He perpetuates a lot of themes in the story and he is a HUGE character foil to Chase, because he often reflects the opposite of Chase's (and Idonea's) values and intentions. I want him to be morally grey and I am constantly fighting a BATTLE with this man to make sure he isn't too likeable or too hateable. I posted on Tumblr like a week ago really just asking for a diagnostic and the response made my day because people are all OVER the place about this man, some people love him, some will never forgive him, some are like "he's alright but there's something off about him and I can't help but distrust him" and others are like "I know he keeps making mistakes but I can't help but trust him" and I LOVE IT. Fortunately I think he's finally in a place perception-wise where I want him. I want the confusion. So badly. Only now I have to continue to fight this stupid tug-o'-war to keep him properly dividing until the end of the story XD

Behind the scenes

"How did you come up with the plot for KAPT? Was it just a little thought that popped up in your head one day, or did you have like inspiration or something?" asked by @xcitrix 12/20

"Did you have an idea for how you wanted the story to end when you first started writing or did you come up with more ideas while working on it?" asked by @lapileaf 12/20

I'mma answer both of these (and any others if they are asked) in kinda the same go if that's alright. In August I was wanting to write some fanfiction for CB, and one idea rotating in my head was, what if Chase went into a nonfiction book? Like he thought it the most effective way to study for a history project, or he saw a mention of Ex Libris, or something. So, completely directionless, I drabbled out the first chapter of KAPT where they find the book in the museum and... adopt it. And then it sat there in my Google Docs for like two weeks while I worked on a different fanfiction, Violets and Chains. I tried to return to it a little bit and got through the first anthology chapter where they're in the Chartesia battle, but that too did not have a plot behind it, I was like "myeh... trebuchets... uh... and now there's a guy... oh maybe they're PRISONERS..." And then brain did not work and I gave up. Eventually got myself together, BS-ed the rest of the scene, and then sat down and essentially ranted to myself about potential ideas until I figured out the plot.

More ideas have kept cropping up as I've worked on it. There are certain puzzle pieces that are foreshadowed in even teh first ten chapters that I didn't even mean to foreshadow because I hadn't thought of the yet - the plot was generally mapped out but has defintely been refined and added to as time goes on. Eventually you get into the flow of a story and everything just starts clicking into place, like you yourself are theorizing about an external work. Keep in mind that because I am publishing it as I write each chapter, KAPT is a first draft, and I have to hatch out plot points and main parts of the story as I write and make my best effort to recover any loose threads or things like that. It's a fun exercise!

"Do you plan to stick to the story you have already till the end or is there a possiblity you'll have to change some things if we get to know more about canon Ex Libris/Buddy lore while it's still ongoing?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

There are some new bits of information that are kinda iffy for KAPT, but ultimately because KAPT takes place inside a book most of the Buddy/Ex Libris lore is not applicable. Regarding Buddy's situation I am going to go ahead like I was planning to originally, and I'll add a disclaimer when time permits. I don't think either way throws a wrench in the plans too much but I would rather be confident in the themes I've already set up as opposed to trying to hastily recover new lore in the last third of the story, if that makes sense.

"How did you come up with your ocs? I know some, like Jaime, come from another original story of yours ... but what about characters like Ravenell, Galeus, and Rose? What inspired you? How did you decide their personaltiy, their struggles? Did you take inspiration from yourself for anyone, similar to how Punko took inspiration from herself for Chase? Do you follow any specific process to come up with ocs, like follow a list, scheme, or coming up with hypothetical scneraios?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

A lot of the characters are cameos from a passion project I've been working on for years called IFI (no I will not tell you what it stands for) - Jaime and emma are from there, as well as several others including Alexei, Nishan, Mattheo, Kelitia, Indie (the Marchioness), King Aarius, and King Olivyn. So those are just plunked in and then Jaime decided to become part of the plot. As for the other original characters made specifically for KAPT, they just kinda got plopped in for one reason or another (I wanted Rose to connect to the Chartesia lore, Ravenell to have a foil for Chase, and Galeus because, well, there had to be a king) and then I slowly worked to build connections, themes, and character. Often times I don't specifically sit down and think "this character will be this way", it just emerges naturally from their dialogue, like I'm chiseling something out that was already in the stone like an archeologist, as opposed to carving my own new sculpture. I've always written that way and it makes it difficult when I am required to add structure to my writing or explain why I do things the way I do. I will say it is all VERY inspired from my own life and beliefs; Rose exists as a confidante in the story, and many of her more preachy dialogue pieces are things I'm getting out of my system. So yeah, not really a lot of structure to it, they just appear... and I figure them out as I go... most of my characters are in some way facets of myself or the way I percieve life. As I get more experienced with writing I'm sure I'll be more intentional with them, but for now, they are Athena and I am Zeus.

"How do you post daily" (kind of) asked by @isitamia 12/20

To give an actual answer for this because I know it's a lot to post a 2-4k chapter PER DAY - I am a student and have a LOT of downtime in class where I can't really do anything but write. That is how. Also, I have taught myself to be a prolific writer because that is the thing in my life I can always rely on when other things are unstable.

"How did you extend the story so far? I love the plot and it's kinda insane how you were able to develop it so much, at this point it's a full novel and I kinda live for it LOL. Also how long would you consider one act?" asked by @shyve3 12/20

Two parts to this question, I will answer them both;

I didn't mean to. I am really bad about being concise; I can't. When I write and get passionate about a story there's so much I want to stay and I can rarely fit it into what most people consider a pallatable length. I just get going and... idk... unstoppable force or something lol. And yes KAPT is at least the length of a typical trilogy XD ITS BEEN FIVE MONTHS

Regarding the act question, I ORIGINALLY said KAPT would be three acts, with the first ending when Chase goes down into Rose's "tomb" for the first time, the second ending with the Bronte part, and the third being the final one. It is actually more like four now, with the "second" act split into two at the masquerade ball. We are so close to being onto the actual final act, which should be a 4th of the total fic, so we have maybe 30 chapters left (?) (we'll see lol)

I don't have a specific length, it's just the way the story tends to ebb and flow if that makes sense?

General stuff

"Do you have any advice as a writer?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

I AM SO BAD ABOUT THIS because I really do just go type type type and words appear. I know there's more to it than that but I've spent a lot of time writing and not a lot of time learning how to write so I have the experience without the actual education behind it. Write what you care about :) I mean NO DUH but like - your best stories will come from the heart. You will find prolificness (is that a word?) in PASSION. If I didn't care about Cinderella Boy or the themes I'm trying to communicate in KAPT would I spent my days writing a chapter a day ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT I'd be writing a different story. So yeah - write what you love and your audience will find you. What the world needs is a buncha people doing what they love really well because it's what they care about. Also, I didn't include your full comment here, but I am excited to read your fanfiction! <3 Please post it on Tumblr when you also post it elsewhere!

[msmargaretmurry]

I’m rotating Matthew Tkachuck in my head right now and trying to figure out what’s an interesting direction to take him in, in general, in a post SCF win world. Real Matthew is obviously living his best life right now but I feel like there’s interesting things to explore with fanon Matthew. What angst avenues remain after he’s reached the dream of every hockey player in the show, fulfilled the expectations put on him by putting the tkachuk name on the cup? I’ve always liked stories that explore characters after they reached their ultimate goal and the ‘now what?’ question that they have to answer, I’m having trouble figuring what that ‘now what?’ is for Matthew beyond play more hockey and win more cups. As the foremost Matthew Knower I know, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

(Also needless to say i’d love hearing the extra mattdrai take on this too, either already established pre-SCF, broke up before SCF, or never even got together yet)

OK HI ANON i am so sorry for taking so long to answer this! and thank you for sending such a fun and interesting question!! as usual this got long so i'll put it under the read more.

so first of all i've definitely seen people say that matthew is less interesting to them fannishly now that his narrative is "over" — he won the cup, he's getting married, he's got his ideal happy ending, etc — and i do understand that, both theoretically and having seen it happen before in fandom (after the caps finally won the cup fannish hockey interest in them seemed to drop off SO abruptly at the time, lol). which is fine! if the thing someone was most invested in was the narrative and the narrative concludes, if the tension they were interested in is no longer there, it's natural to move on to new victims players of interest.

however, anon, i like you am for better or worse still invested 😂 and despite writing almost nothing this past year (i cannot express enough how burnt out grad school had me, but i have WAY better plans for stress management this year, hooray for having writing time again) i have been rotating our beloved rat boy CONSTANTLY on the gas station hotdog roller in my mind. he is one those players who obviously i enjoy him as a real person and a hockey player but for fanfiction purposes i find him so interesting for his potential as a character, and that character is only very loosely tied to his real life circurmstances and is a separate, totally fictional entity from the real guy. so while the real matthew is living the dream, and i am so happy for and proud of him, i still have fictional matthew in my head like, well i can do whatever i want with you, lol.

so i think what maybe makes it more difficult for people to stay invested fannishly in situations like this is the (understandable) tendency to set "canon" fic (fics that aren't full AUs) in the here-and-now, and matthew's here-and-now, like we said, just doesn't have that much obvious tension and conflict, and the tension and conflict are what make for great stories! so i take a few different approaches here, and hopefully you will find one or some of them interesting or useful.

firstly i totally agree that "what now" stories are great. you've achieved everything you ever dreamed of — what now? well, as a writer, you figure out why that wasn't enough and then you send your character on a journey to figure that out, too. and honestly a lot of the time this is just about making shit up! like, in haw matthew is such an anxious character — obviously matthew in real life is not anxious like his haw counterpart, but haw!matthew has something real matthew doesn't have: his big gay secret that is constantly weighing on him and stressing him out, so the anxiousness (hopefully) makes sense, character-wise. with matthew as a character i am almost always ignoring his real-life love life (i have just never been a person to include real wags in my fic in any major way) so my immediate thought is: if he has the cup, but not the engagement, how does that make things different? is he lonely? does he need to admit to himself that he's lonely, or is he already aware and making a choice to stay that way? or, maybe he uses the cup press as a way to come out, and he's dealing with all of that? maybe he gets caught putting his tongue in some guy's mouth during the drunken cup celebrations and he's dealing with that. (insert matthew pairing of choice into any of this, obviously.)

or maybe we want a fic that lets him have the whole happy ending, cup and wedding and everything. fast-forward five, ten, fifteen years, and how has that happiness lasted? like, he's pretty young, he has a lot of career ahead of him! will he be content as his career winds down if in all those years he hasn't had another sniff at the cup? does his (fictional) marriage last (obviously not, if we're going to have him sucking dick in a supply closet or w/e, but ykwim)? does he get to end his career on his own terms? there are whole worlds of futurefic out there for exploring what happens when all your dreams come true so young and so you spend the rest of your life chasing that high.

and then there is like, we can write fic set in the past! we're allowed to do that! if we still want to write about calgary matthew or pre-cup matthew and explore the conflicts and tensions in those parts of his life, we can do that! i think that his first two years in florida are SO ripe especially for like, matthew/sasha or matthew/benny or other fic with his teammates culminating in that cup run. like with good romance novels, knowing it has the best possible ending doesn't make the journey less interesting. we love that real matthew has his real happy ending; it could be really fun to recreate that journey for him with bonus matthew/[insert hockey man of choice here] content. (obviously i love matthew/leon, but i really will read anything 😂 so this is me encouraging all pairings.)

and then for ME there is a particularly delicious option, one of my favorite types of of hrpf fic in general, with the canon divergence au. we have seen matthew live his dream; what happens if something in his life happened that derailed his path to it? how does he reach that level of joy and contentness and peace with himself if his perfect cup/engagement summer is taken out of his reach? i'm talking your classic career-ending injury aus, something else happens to derail his career aus, etc. maybe not for everyone and maybe not quiet what you're thinking about with a "what next" type of fic, but i love this shit so much, so i have to include it here.

finally, OBVIOUSLY, the matthew and leon of it all!!!!! like, man, WHAT a wrench to throw into our beautiful wonderful made-up mattdrainiverse. i think there are such fun possibilities in every version of the scenario like you mentioned — established relationship, broken up, not together yet, a fourth secret thing, etc. for established relationship, the question of, does this break them up (and then you the writer has to get them back together) (if you're feeling nice)? if not, how do they get past it? if they're exes, does it weirdly ignite something between them again, and how does that go? and honestly my favorite might be the "not together yet" option, just because the journey for leon getting over that resentment and growing feelings could be soooooooo good.

and i think maybe that is the key to post-cup fic for them, for me, if the fic is going to end with them happy together? is, whatever their relationship, taking leon's feelings about the cup seriously — his resentment, his pain, his annoyance, what have you — and showing me that journey of processing those feelings and getting to a place where even if he's not happy for matthew, he is happy with him. and on matthew's side, his own feelings — refusing to be sorry for winning, refusing to tamp down his joy, etc — are obviously also important, and i think there could be some really good conflict there as they butt heads and work through all that.

but every fic doesn't have to deal with that whole-ass emotional journey, obvs. not every fic has to be a 60k feelings journey 😂 one-shot encounters, hate-fucking pwps, whatever, they can all be delicious. (unsolicited fic rec, @hopetorun recently wrote me this matthew/leon post-cup fic that packs a punch in 10k.) for me though i think these feelings about the cup need to be centered in the post-cup era, even if they don't get nicely resolved. even if it's set 15 years in the future, those feelings are still going to be there, and whatever happens between them is going to be messy and complicated. and we all know i love mess 🥰

anyway, i'm not actually sure if i answered your question here but i hope it did! regardless, i had fun thinking about all this, and that's the most important thing!

[20dollarlolita]

Hi friends,

it's absolutely okay to use disability aids if they help you, and you are allowed to be the one who decides if they will help you.

I spent Christmas in a non-weight-bearing cast, and a friend of mine suggested I use her backup wheelchair so that I didn't have to use crutches for the whole time. I was initially resistant, but I'm glad I got over it.

It made a huge difference. It allowed me to work my job with minimal accommodation, and allowed me to be independent outside of work. I was able to go out and shop for holiday presents. I could leave my house and not worry about if I was going to get too tired to move. It was better for my body, because I wasn't putting my entire body weight on one hip or leg. It helped me be treatment compliant, because I didn't have the constant temptation to put my foot down and put a bit of weight on it. It allowed me to carry things and shop on my own. I was able to work at my job, make sales, and earn commission. The only work-related things I needed help with was to have us move our office plant (whose name is Randal) and to get help carrying large or heavy boxes. My doctor had approved return-to-work paperwork that said I had to sit down for 75% of my shift, and with a wheelchair, I was easily able to do this without going on disability or medical leave.

Here's a collection of pictures of me, not being stuck on the couch in my house.

And people, both friends and customers, were so very weird about all of this.

A lot of people questioned if it was some kind of overkill, because many people who can't bear weight on one leg will use crutches or a kneeling scooter. Other people commented on how inconvenient is had to be, and how difficult things had to be when I was using a wheelchair.

And I realized that other people saw me, compared their level of ability to what they thought mine was, and decided that using a wheelchair was difficult and inconvenient. What I saw was what my level of ability would be without the wheelchair, and what it was with it. Carrying a drink wasn't doable via wheelchair, crutches, or kneeling scooter, but I'd be unable to carry a drink in the wheelchair and people would see it as a huge inconvenience. (BTW the answer is just to get boba at a place that seals the lids on, carry it in your lap, and punch the straw through once you're at a place where you can set it down. Boba lids are wheelchair-friendly).

I think people see "wheelchair" as the ultimate in disability, but for me it was freedom to take care of myself. People want to save using a wheelchair for when you absolutely cannot function without it, but you deserve to be happy and not just to function.

And the fact is, if people are unable to judge my disability aids by understanding the options to them, and if they're only able to judge my mobility aids by comparing their personal ability to how they'd feel using my mobility aid, then there's no way whatsoever that someone else can judge if I actually need it, or not. But I deserved to be using the thing that gave me the most freedom, impacted my life the least, and was the least damaging on my body.

Anyway, I've spent the morning trying to convince someone I know who broke their leg that using a wheelchair is better than staying at home on the couch. I'm not making a lot of progress with that, so hopefully I can make some progress with my friends on the internet who might be going through something. You deserve to be comfortable and happy, and not just to exist. If you do things that take care of your body, instead of hurting it by refusing to take the help that you need, you'll be able to function better. Wheelchair isn't a bad or dirty thing, and it doesn't have to be a means of last resort. You can use it if it helps you.

[sexymandescendant-archive]

MOVING BLOGS!

Hey everyone, Mod Bee here.

When I first started this blog, I had no idea what I was doing. I thought my silly little original post wouldn't get too big, and that I would be able to handle the scope of sharing all the awesome fanmade descendants, answering questions about the silly little universe I've helped create, and telling the story of Sexyman Descendants.

...Turns out that was WAY too much for me to handle. The sheer load of attention I was getting had me WAY too overwhelmed, and to be frank it made me super intimidated to revisit Sexyman Descendants in any form whatsoever. Which is a shame, because I miss these characters as much as you guys do :(

Now that I've taken a step back from the blog for a bit and have a grounded, clear head, I've decided to limit the scope immensely and start fresh. I'm starting a fresh blog over at @/sexymandescendants (aka, the old url for this blog) where I can hopefully interact with the Sexyman Descendants universe in a more healthy manner. It will mostly be RP-focused, but I'll most likely still be reblogging fanart and whatnot over there too if the opportunity ever arises.

I hope that one day I'll be able to revisit some of the more ambitious projects I've started and/or talked about on here (ie: an archive of fanmade descendants, a Discord server, etc), but for now I'm putting those plans on indefinite hiatus. They only contributed to my burnout with Sexyman Descendants, and it'll be best for my mental health if I leave those projects behind for now. Thank you for your understanding!

TLDR; this blog will be up as an archive, but all Sexyman Descendants activity from now on will be at @sexymandescendants. Hope to see y'all there!

[ewyband]

EWY BIG Q&A

hi!! recently i did a q&a on instagram about SLAD. unfortunately (or fortunately?) there were too many questions to answer purely on instagram stories without spamming. here's the ones i couldn't answer on instagram, answered here!

MERLOT, both in terms of my favourite composition and performance

my partner and i were on a break whilst they were studying abroad ("we're only on month 1 of 4"). I just kinda word vomited my feelings. I was feeling pretty depressed at the time I wont lie.

yes i DID!!! this EP was MADE for fun. i wrote the songs specifically to make fun songs to play live. (aside from HOLLOW DRUG)

"And I could be displaced from my home And it could be seen on all your phones Is it real? Or is it fake? Look close, do my arms look like legs?"

probs the most lyrically dense I've been?? i'm not sure.

first of all, thank you so much!! second, some songs i write it all in one day but others can take a week or so before i'm fully happy with how its sounding. that being said, i always end up changing something before recording (usually around a month after writing, but in the case of MERLOT, that was recorded only a week after writing).

if i had to just name one, it'd be Nirvana. I wrote a 3000 word essay on In Utero for uni and that genuinely inspired me to make these songs. I really loved how Nirvana performed and I thought 'man, if only I had songs like that where I'd have an excuse to go crazy' other influences would include Jeff Rosenstock (my #1 fav artist) and PUP (greatest live show I've ever been to) btw, thank u sm!!

yes,,, very much

unfortunately i havent learnt proper scream technique so all of my screams were done at the very very end of my recording sessions. i think it worked out because that meant i had a lot of pent up frustration

i will start by saying my uni lets me hire out all of these microphones for free (if you don't count the student loan) vocals: SM7b & RE20 (only on sociopathic leech) guitar: AKG C414 matched pair (acoustic and electric) bass: my takes were originally done with an RE20, pretty sure fern just DI'd drums: Audix DP7 + SM57 (for hi-hat) + C414 for room mic's

i'll try get this done tomorrow!

i was in a guitar lesson at uni and we were talking about chromatics in the blues scale. my guitar teacher suggested i try to make a riff using the blues scale and particularly the chromatic part. that riff ended up being the middle 8 section of RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS. the rest of the song basically acted as a vessel to transport this breakdown middle 8 section. hopefully it doesn't come across that way !!!!!! but that was the main idea.

it felt very natural. i'll probably continue to go this direction in my future releases.

its mainly a reference to SOCIOPATHIC LEECH! 'i could beat you with a bat'. i just wanted something that felt visceral and angry and i feel like izzie really captured that.

yes and no! brett romnes is a super nice guy and very fun to work with. i obviously had my own mixes so he could see what i preferred and essentially made it better. i think there ended up being 4 drafts before we reached a final master.

these were my original mixing notes! i think the only thing that really got lost in translation was i added some really subtle vocal distortion at the end of HOLLOW DRUG in my original mix. in the end, i feel empowered by brett because he made it sound like what i felt it should sound like in my head (DOES THIS SENTENCE MAKE SENSE!?)

after i wrote SOCIOPATHIC LEECH and RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS, i was like 'okay, this is the style we're going for, lets do some sort of project in this particular style' i was pretty dead set on an EP since i'd just done an album. so to answer your question, yes and no!

i wish i could put something significant here. im sure theres some psychologist out there who could tell me that the song represents something about me. i was feeling alienated at the time, hopefully this helps? "confess your sins to the crowd, no-one can hear you when you're talking so loud" is definitely about my frustrations with song meanings though

hi mikey!

this person was the GM for a cyberpunk TTRPG game i played in. i wanted to write a cyberpunk themed album at one point but i guess that one merlot line is the closest we'll get.

i have semi answered this question but I WANTED TO WRITE SONGS THAT WERE FUN TO PLAY LIVE !!!!! and i think it worked out in the end

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO WROTE IN !!! MY ASKBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN!!!

[misstictart]

Alright, if I'm not mistaking, hopefully I'll have answered everything in eight parts (EDIT: nope, nine!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - You're here! Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

In the meantime, here are the next two questions!

24 – Aside from their home, is there a specific place in Springfield where your OC likes to spend time?

As I said earlier, she stays at her flat most of the time- it's her literal comfort zone. BUT when she has the energy to spend some time out on her own, you'd likely find her chilling in the café Kafka, a small coffeehouse of Springfield where students of Springfield usually hang out. For Claryce the place is relatively calm, she likes the atmosphere and also enjoys the poetry performances hosted once in a while. This is the best place to enjoy a latte or to bring her laptop for some light freelancing work. If not, you could also find her reading at the public library, or spending some time at the Arcade, secretly beating some high scores... She's especially good at DDR and rhythm games!

28 – Is your OC married? What’s their stance on marriage?

[Consider this answer as an AU- nothing is set in stone and is this part is more likely to change as the episodes go!] She's not married in the present timeline, and she never got married before her relationship with Bob- be it the first or the second. And to be frank, she never felt the need to marry nor fantasized about it. It's lovely, it's romantic, yes, but it looks so stressful to organize and oh gosh so EXPENSIVE.

It's true the thought of marriage did come to her mind the moment she definitely got closer to Bob, and she wouldn't refuse should he propose to her, but it never felt like a priority to her.

However, in the story I've pictured so far, Bob is the one troubled about it. I have this episode idea in mind where he tries to propose to her. At first it would be a purely comical episode, where it would feel like the world is against him: the Simpson family (or other characters) almost spoiling the surprise, the engagement ring missing for some reason... And eventually would come the perfect time to propose. No one to bother them, the perfect setting, all he needs is to get her attention and put a knee down, and yet. He can't bring himself to do it. (What if things would go downhill the moment they married? What if karma made it that after finally getting back with Claryce and marrying her, the Simpsons would (accidentally or not) ruin it? What if his constant plots, schemes and arrests made too absent for her to bear and would lead to yet another divorce?...)

Despite being a master at masking his emotions - his good acting being a blessing or a curse at times - Claryce would still notice something is wrong. Cue a heartfelt conversation in which she'd tell him there's no rush- and that she'd always be there should be feel ready for it.

It would be a turning point in their relationship. Bob isn't used to be the one needing reassurance - let alone show a hint of vulnerability - but he'd find great comfort in knowing Claryce won't pressure nor berate him. Be it about his ordeals or his concerns regarding their relationship.

Now, to answer the question "will they marry, though", well, not in the show's present timeline. Their main dynamic revolves around Claryce's denial, then her attempts of secrecy when she gets to date him again. Having them marry right away would ruin this energy - just like solving everything in Springfield would bring the show itself to its conclusion.

Still... "Future" episodes are a thing, so I like to imagine an episode where it would be implied that Claryce married Sideshow Bob later on (with hints such as her being called "Mrs Terwilliger", for example), yet the wedding ceremony itself wouldn't be pictured or shown.

...

Anyway. A few days ago it was my birthday, and I felt like treating myself, so. Here is a drawing to compensate the previous angst. ♥

[sweaters-n-dynamite]

Honestly, I've thought about how an Earthmover could fit in the DECT "Machine Afterlife Limbo" (Totally not because I have an earthmover character... No that'd be preposterous.... I do have one.) I think it'd be kinda funny if just, this Skyscraper of a being shows up and is like "Hey, where am I" or it's just their head, or maybe they've been severed in two. Unable to move but still so unfathomably massive. I swear I'm normal I promise--

Like Antennas to Heaven

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...

BOOT UP SEQUENCE COMPLETE. 5 HOURS LEFT UNTIL SHUTDOWN.

. . .

"Hey... are you awake?"

"... WHAT."

"Good. You can hear me. Are you able to stand up straight? Or... sit up straight? Your model type is tall. And I mean tall."

"WHERE AM I. WHY AM I HERE. WHY CAN'T I USE MY ARTILLERY. STATE YOUR IDENTIFICATION."

"Woah, hold it with the questions, big guy. I'll answer them all. Just give me a second to catch my breath in-between."

"Right now, you are in purgatory. That's at least the best way to put it. You'll be here with me until your processors finally fail and stop working. You are dead, and seeing by all this damage you took most things other than basic functions are all offline from said damage. And finally, my name is Mirage."

"... WHY DO YOU SHARE SIMULARITIES TO MACHINE MODEL V-1? ONLY ONE WAS EVER MANUFACTURED."

"I am a concept. I only exist in the narrative, much do you now in this short time. My purpose was to find meaning in life and choose my own path. Your purpose was to fail."

"I THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE MUCH MORE."

"Everyone does, as I did as well. Maybe I can explain it to you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey! Hope you enjoyed reading this! And hopefully this is what you meant! ^^

[vellichorom]

hey!! That Anon that’s new to the TSP & Narratorverse - thank you so much for explaining things! I’ve gone through the threads you’ve linked and looked at some of the creators connected to them. Also, I have another question (I hope I’m not intruding on your time, and you have no obligation to answer this), but what is the Lovebug sickness thing? I’ve also seen that around.

ok admittedly I actually don't think I'm as knowledgeable with the Lovebug Virus concept as I would be with Paraverse, but as I've actually been engaged with it a LOT as of late & at least understand the base concept ( I think? ), I'll try to relay ALL that I know to you, dear non! & i thoroughly encourage anyone who may know more to add onto my post!

TDLR; in essence an AU / trend begun by user @things1do that stems from the idea of The Stanley Parable, particularly Stan/Nar, getting infected by a particular love-virus! that's pretty much it I think. lovecore parable, baby!

SO - the " Lovebug AU, " also known as " the Love Virus " is a concept originated from the user mentioned above ( Bubo ) in which, if we're to take the tags from this original post to heart, the/their Narrator opened an email with a virus attached ( implied to be the infamous IRL computer worm ILOVEYOU / LOVE_LETTER_FOR_YOU.TXT.vbs or some variation of it? ) & ended up getting the game bugged.

rather than your standard computer bug effects though, said worm corrupts the parable & simply injects a lovecoric aesthetic into everything, which includes - of course, Stanley & the Narrator; shown through individual outfit, aesthetic, & personality shifts to befit. given their popularity as characters & as a couple, they're most often the characters you'll find if you search the AU anywhere, though I believe any character IN the parable can be lovebugged!

MORE INTERPRETIVE LOVEBUG DISCUSSION BELOW;

& beyond this concept, I don't think there's been much other story added to it? at least, not from Bubo, from what I can tell. truth be told, i think the concept of the Lovebug Virus is just a good, canonically appropriate excuse to draw Parablites in lovecoric outfits & doing shippy/affectionate things with one another!

...but that's not stopped some people.

given the rather open concept with no apparent set story beyond a simple shtick, people have taken it in NUMEROUS different directions with their respective Parable renditions & interpretations.

some stick with the simplicity of the original concept; some others decide to take it a bit further & really harp on the " virus " side of things, either turning it into a literal sickness on cold with a flu or some kind of unfavorable phenomenon in terms of bodily health or the game's code; some others make it a one-sided thing from either Stanley or the Narrator's POV, with the other trying to avoid or cure them- & on that note, I've even seen it translated as a sort of lovecoric zombie virus ( hi @blackkatdraws ); some take it in a more Visceral or thought-provokingly disturbing direction with the virus enhancing the affected's feelings to an obsessive / destructive degree; & then you've got some that take it as an excuse to depict stan/nar as more Lustful, with befitting, revealing / promiscuous clothes to boot. ( you know who you are & i know WHAT you are )

etc etc -- & to each their own, i suppose! it's a very loose, interpretation-based concept that you can really push & play & have fun with, so long as you stick to the main " hearts, pink & red, lovey " theme!

ALSO HI-

I WANT TO THANK YOU FOR ACTUALLY TAKING YOUR VALUABLE TIME TO LOOK THROUGH THE LAST POST & MAYBE EVEN THIS ONE; it makes me so very happy to know you took the time to look into my ( maybe needless ) ramble esp when i tried putting a lot of dedication in it, & i LOOOOVE to talk to excess & i love to be thorough about WHATEVER it is i'm explaining, so thank you forever & i'm so VERY VERY happy that hopefully it'll lead you to finding some TSP creators you may want to get into! this is going to be us if you keep that up

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

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I've been miserable ever since Noah left for the make-up shows from when they had to cancel due to his illness. Sleeping was hard without him, having been using him as a body pillow—we didn't think to grab an actual body pillow, not realizing how reliant I was of Noah for sleeping purposes.

Which is exactly why I was currently dragging one through the front door of our home all while simultaneously grabbing the mail. And grabbing my phone from my back pocket now that Noah was calling.

"Hey," I huffed into the receiver once through the door and threw the pillow onto the couch. "How are we doing?" he asks, a smile evident in his voice. "Good," I smiled lightly to myself; I loved hearing him say 'we' instead of just 'you', knowing he was not only asking about me, but the baby, too. "Tired, but good." "Still not sleeping well?" "Nope, so I bought a body pillow. Hopefully it helps." "Hopefully. But hopefully not too well that you won't snuggle me anymore," he laughs.

I put my phone on speaker and chuckled, shaking my head as I sat down on the couch with the mail in my hands, and flipped through it. There were mostly pre-approvals for credit cards amongst other junk, but one piece in particular caught my attention. It was addressed to me, the returning address of my childhood home back in Virginia, but the name made my heart skip a beat.

Warren Foster

"What the fuck?" I questioned under my breath, immediately tearing it open to read the letter and coming face-to-face with my name written in an all-too familiar script. The first few lines had tears pooling in my eyes and my hands trembling.

My dearest Heather Olivia,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer on this earth, but I am still watching over you. I had Mom keep this so she could give this to you when you needed it most.

My lips quivered and I squeezed my eyes shut, tears now rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't bear to read the rest of it right now and put it back in its envelope, tossing it on the coffee table. I brought a hand to my mouth and tried to stifle the cry I let out, but it was of no use. I couldn't hold my emotions back.

"Liv, why are you crying?" Noah asks calmly before his panic-stricken voice cuts through my hysterics. "Oh my God—are you in labor?" I shake my head 'No', though he can't see it. "Do I need to book a flight back home?" I choke out a 'No'. "Answer me, please, you're freaking me out." I suck in a choppy breath and let out one last sob before trying to answer him. "I-I got a letter from...from my dad." "What the fuck?" He sounded just as shocked as I was. "But your dad is—" "I know," I cut him off. He didn't need to say it.

Dead. My dad is dead, and I never got to see him before he went. Each time that thought crossed my mind, it was like a sucker punch to my chest. I'm back to hysterics in no time.

"Fuck, Olivia, I'm sorry. What did the letter say?" "I-I couldn't read it," I whimpered. "I read the first two lines and put it down. Said he gave it to Mom for her to give me when I needed it most." In a sense, it was comforting. Dad was thinking of future me before he passed, Mom was thinking of me during my pregnancy. She knows the doubt that I sometimes feel, and I'm assuming there was something in that letter that would be uplifting. But I couldn't read it. Not alone.

"What can I do for you?" Noah's voice is soft. "Bring my dad back, just for a minute," I mumbled, fresh tears welling in my eyes. He sighs deeply. I can picture him combing the front of his hair back with his hand. "You know I can't do that, love. I wish I could." "I know," I whisper dejectedly. "I can't wait for you to come home." "I'll be home to you two in no time, I promise." I sniffle, wiping the back of my hand under my nose. "Okay. I'm gonna try to relax some," I huffed. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asks warily. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I love you." "I love you, too. I'll call you later, alright?"

We hung up and I picked up the letter once more, bringing it and the pillow with me into our bedroom. I shoved the piece of mail into my nightstand so I didn’t have to look at it; it was tempting to read, but I know that I wouldn't be able to contain myself if I read it alone. I couldn't have it tip me over the edge and lead to...that.

I sighed and made my way to my bathroom, deciding to take a quick bath to help calm me some. I ran the water and threw some Epsom salt in, all while making sure the water didn't get too hot. I stripped of my clothes, piled my hair on top of my head, and carefully lowered myself into the tub.

It took a moment or two to get situated, trying to find a comfortable way to rest as he wriggles about in my belly. "I love you, but you gotta chill out, dude," I chuckled quietly, and I swear he retaliates with a swift kick to my side. "Asshole," I glare at my stomach, only to laugh at my foolish banter with my belly. I ran a hand over my bump, feeling him start to settle a bit, and I let out a slow breath as the warmth encased me, my eyes falling shut.

I didn't bathe for very long; one of the downfalls of being pregnant is that I couldn't for more than 15 minutes, and I loved taking long baths. As short lived as it was, it certainly helped me calm down—after dressing and getting comfortable with the body pillow, I was out like a light.

-

After a few days of using it, the pillow was easily becoming my best friend, and when I felt it begin to slip from my grasp, I grumbled and clung onto it. I nuzzled my face into the side of it, my arm and leg hooked over it tightening their hold. There was a muted chuckle as I sighed peacefully once I got comfortable again, feeling myself start to fade back into sleep.

In my sleep riddled haze, I can feel the bed dip behind me, but I paid no mind to it. Not until I felt a comforting heat on my back, a ghost of a tingle running down my spine when my hair was brushed away from my neck, a pair of warm lips left in its wake. I whined, bringing my shoulder up to hinder them from tickling me, and a deep chuckle vibrated against my back.

"Hey, love," Noah's velvety voice whispers in my ear. With my eyes still shut, I smile. "Hey. You're home early." "I am," he concurs, leaving a kiss on my cheek. "Took the earliest flight that I could after the last show." I shift, blindly bringing my arm behind me to lace my fingers through his hair, scratching lazily. "Why?" I peek my eyes open, and I can just barely make out his face from the moonlight filtering from the skylight. He grins at me. "To make sure you two are alright," he tells me simply, his large hand splaying over my belly.

I hum, giving him a kiss on his chin, and my eyes flutter shut once more.

"I take it the pillow worked well for you," he says after a moment of silence. "Mhm. I might choose it over you now." I muse, smirking. "Oh, hell no," he grumbles playfully. He slips it from between my legs and tosses it off the bed, landing in a soft thud. He shifts so he's on his back and gently rolls me towards him, my leg instinctively settling over him. "Mine," he states, tightening his arm around me. I laugh, shaking my head against his chest, laying a kiss wherever my lips landed. "Yours."

In the morning, I woke up in the same position; his arm around me, my head nestled against his chest and my leg over top of him.

I glanced up at him, admiring the peacefulness painted on his face as he continued to snooze. With his jaw slack and lips parted, quiet snores sounded from him, and I knew he was exhausted from returning home in the middle of the night. The sunlight pouring over him hadn’t bothered him one bit—usually he’d wake up the second it hit his face.

I carefully removed his arm from around me so as to not disturb him, trying my best to roll as gracefully as I could off his body. It wasn’t quite as easy as it used to be, now with a basketball for a stomach, and I more or less scooted my way out of bed praying I didn’t wake him. When he didn’t so much as stir, I made my way to the bathroom before our son decided to wake up and kick my bladder.

Once I had finished my business and exited our bathroom, I was surprised to see Noah had woken up, him lazily rubbing his eye with his fist. “Good morning,” he croaked, and I immediately apologized for waking him. “You didn’t wake me,” he tells me with the shake of his head, but I’m almost certain I did. “Did you sleep alright?” I smiled lightly, making my way back over to him. I raked the front of his hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in two weeks.” He takes hold of my hand and presses his lips to the back of it. “Good,” he mumbles against me, and I can feel his lips curl into a smile.

It had been such a short amount of time, but God did I miss waking up to his sheepish, sleep-filled grin and hooded eyes, and the raspiness in his voice that came with the day’s first words.

“Would you like some breakfast?” I asked him. He groans quietly as he sits up, stretching his hands high above his head. “Sure, love, that would be great.” I grin at him before making my way to the kitchen with him following behind me. "What do you feel like having?" "Whatever you feel like having," he sidles up behind me, his arms snaking under mine with his hands settling on my belly. His thumbs run against me in gentle sweeps as he kisses the back of my head. "Hmm...how does French toast sound?" "Sounds perfect."

He unravels himself from me so I can start cooking, persistently asking if I'd like help. I denied him each time; eventually he gave up and parked his ass at the table like I kept telling him to.

With Noah off my back, it doesn’t take very long to set plates down for both of us, and I join him at the table, taking the syrup after he was done dousing his toast with it. He digs in as I put a normal amount of syrup on my breakfast, and I chuckle when he groans after the first bite.

“Good?” I smirk. “So good,” he mumbles through a mouthful. I rolled my eyes, wishing he’d stop talking with his mouth full. “I haven’t had a home cooked breakfast in far too long.” I snort, shaking my head. “It’s been two weeks, Noah.” “And? I missed your cooking…amongst other things,” he winks.

Heat rises to my cheeks at his insinuation, and I hide my smile by taking a bite of the toast. He laughed, and I knew he could see the blush crawling over my face.

“Sorry, I had to,” he snickers. “On a serious note, have you read your letter from…your dad?” He hesitates on the tail end of his question, and my heart leapt to my throat from the mention of it alone. “No, not yet,” I mumble dejectedly, my gaze dropping to the food in front of me. I circle my fork through the puddle of syrup on my plate, swirling the trail of cinnamon into it. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home. I can’t do it alone.”

“Hey,” he says quietly, his fingers grazing over my knuckles to gain my attention. I bring my eyes back to him, seeing his chocolate irises glistening with generosity. “You don’t have to do it alone, I’m here now.” “I know,” I nod shallowly, placing my fork down on my plate to lace my fingers with his.

He gave my hand a squeeze to which I returned, a faint smile grazing my lips as a sense of security washes over me. He was the courage and comfort that I needed for a moment like this, and I was more than grateful for his understanding about it.

I decided after breakfast that we could read it together. He helped me clean up, loading and starting the dishwasher as I wiped down the counter and put the ingredients back to their designated areas. When we were finished in the kitchen, he took my hand in his and asked where I wanted to read it, and he guided me back to our bedroom when I answered him.

I opened the drawer that I had shoved it in two weeks prior and took it out—it was the heaviest thing I have ever held. My eyes immediately watered as I stared at my father’s name on the returning address. Noah slips the envelope from my hand and places it on the nightstand before taking my hands and sitting on our bed.

“Come here, love,” he says in a hushed tone. “Let’s get you comfortable and I can read it to you. How’s that sound?” All I could do was nod as he sat back on the pillow he propped up, his hands pulling me gently into his embrace. I rest my head on his chest, and he reaches for the letter, bringing it to his view. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath, nodding against Noah’s chest as fresh tears fill my eyes from anticipation. He gives me a reassuring kiss on the top of my head before he flips it open, clearing his throat. He read the first two sentences that I had beforehand, and I closed my eyes, my tears spilling and staining his shirt.

“From the day you were born, I knew just how special you were. You easily became the littlest love of my life, my precious baby girl, who later became my Christmas Angel…I’m sure you remember that one time we took down the tree trying to put the topper on it.”

I couldn’t help the choked-up giggle after Noah read the last sentence, the memory was still so fresh in my mind. He pressed his lips against my head once more before he continued reading.

“You blossomed into the most beautiful, courageous, and strong-willed woman that I know you still are to this day, and I enjoyed watching you grow as the years passed. I cherished them.

I remember all the tough days you had when you were in school, how badly you wanted to give up when studying became too overwhelming, or when you didn’t get the grades you wanted on your tests. But with tears in your eyes, you pushed yourself through it, and you passed with flying colors by the end of it all.

The same thing goes for when you got the job for the city. I knew how scared you were, I knew you were afraid of letting me down or not meeting my expectations or whatever it was dragging you down, but you never let that stop you. But I am so, so proud of you for never giving up, and I admire you for your strengths.

If I was half as strong as you are, I wouldn’t be lying on my death bed writing this letter to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be able to watch you continue to grow, I’m sorry I succumbed to this disease and left you.

If there is one thing that I want you to remember, it’s that you truly are unstoppable; there isn’t a thing in this world that you cannot accomplish—I said that with my chest, and I took that to my grave.

If there is ever a day that you are doubting yourself, I want you to read this over and over until you find who you are again: the strongest, most beautiful, and courageous woman to walk this earth. The woman I am so proud to call my daughter.

I love you so much.

Until we meet again.

-Dad”

I was a blubbering mess by the time Noah finished reading the letter to me. He puts it back on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth ever-so-slightly while I cried it out.

In all reality, it wasn’t that bad of a letter, but it made me miss my dad that much more. It made me regret following in his footsteps, which ultimately lead me down a path to where I never got to see him before he passed. I was weak then. Oh, so very weak—and at times, I believe that I’m still weak, unlike what his letter had been telling me.

It took me a long time to recover, and I ruined it after three whole years of being sober. That is weak; I wasn’t the strong-willed person my dad thought I was. And even if I’m strong enough to be sober now due to the pregnancy, there’s always that thought in the back of my head that worries I’ll relapse after having him. But I can’t let that happen.

I won’t let that happen.

|Chapter 24|