#I guess that would kind of be a waste of good cheese

[bunnny84]

My fat ass thought it was written in cheese 🫣😂 🧀

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley continues to struggle through his dates when he knows you're at his house. When you meet Natasha, you get the wrong impression of her from the start. But after a night out at the bar with his best friend, Bradley makes a move.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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When you arrived on Friday, Bradley was in the kitchen eating a bowl of the cereal and milk that you got for him, and Noah was playing with blocks in the hallway. 

"Hi, Noah! You'll never guess what kind of coloring book I found this time."

"More dinosaurs?" he asked, handing you an orange block. 

"Even better. Outer space," you told him, setting the block on the top of his tower. 

Bradley was already smiling at you when you made your way into the kitchen. "That's for you. Your bonus," he said nodding toward a coffee cup with Bradley scrawled across it. 

You gasped in mock surprise. "Do I wanna know what you had to do to get it?"

He shook his head solemnly between cereal bites. "I'm taking it to the grave."

Your laughter seemed to make his smile grow bigger. "Got it. I'll never bring it up again. Thank you." You took a sip and moaned softly; it was just that good. You might have to switch coffee shops.

Bradley grunted and set his bowl in the sink before slipping past you as he muttered something about needing to get changed. You watched him squat down and kiss Noah before stepping over the mess of blocks with his long legs and heading toward his bedroom.

You wondered if your paper crown was still in there.

"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "You want me to make you macaroni and cheese with a side of ants?"

"Yeah," Noah agreed, handing you some more blocks to play with first. You built three towers in a row with him before you set up the coloring books at the kitchen table so he could sit there while you made his dinner. 

When you started playing some music on your phone, you selected that band that you knew Bradley liked, and sure enough when he emerged from his room, he was shaking his head at you. 

"I still can't believe you know their songs," he said, finishing the buttons on his colorful shirt. 

"I already told you, you're not that old." You were happy to see that he seemed to be more comfortable in his clothing now compared to the date where he wore the dress shirt. "Where are you going tonight?"

"Just dinner. Maybe a movie after that if things seem promising," he said, meeting your eyes. 

"Any excuse for popcorn. Are you taking your pajamas with you?" you asked, but then you realized that implied there might be a sleepover. Your heart clenched in your chest. Oh God. One of these nights, there might be a sleepover involved. What would you do then? 

Of course you wanted him to find someone he was compatible with so he could be happy, but when you really started to consider the implications, you felt a little queasy. 

"I can't go to the movie theater without a shirt on, so I'll be leaving my pajama pants here."

"Good," you whispered, stirring the pasta in the boiling water, thinking about him in just a pair of low slung gray sweatpants.  

"See you in a few hours." He kissed Noah, and then he was gone. 

When you brought a bowl of mac and cheese over to Noah, he looked up and told you, "I like you. And Daddy said you're his favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Well, I like you too, Noah. And don't tell anyone, but your Daddy is kinda my favorite, too." 

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

Bradley finally figured it out; meeting new women over and over again was tedious. Almost none of them got his humor right off the bat, resulting in awkward laughter and a few strange looks. 

"So what do you do for the Navy?" Carolyn asked him as she sipped her drink.

Bradley smiled and said, "Waste millions of dollars in taxpayer money annually. What do you do?"

She just looked at him blankly. When he told you essentially the same thing last week, you had immediately told him that Uncle Sam could suck it. 

"Uh," Carolyn said with a forced laugh. "I do online data entry."

God, had there ever been a single profession that Bradley wanted to discuss less than that? Twenty more minutes of talking about essentially nothing, and then luckily dinner had arrived. There was no way a movie was getting tacked on to this date. 

What the hell was wrong with him? All of these women had been attractive, seemingly normal, and smart. It must be Bradley. He must be the problem. He thought he knew now what it was, of course. Nat had even called him out on it: he kept thinking about you. How you looked like you fit in at his house. How you and Noah had already bonded. How you kept doing little things to take care of both of them, acting like it was no big deal.

It was a big deal. Bradley was eating hot food again at home. Spaghetti, fajitas, and eggs. Noah was eating healthy snacks, and you kept cleaning things up. He left two hundred dollars behind the TV this time and told you to spend it on anything you wanted. 

And that was the other thing. For some reason, he trusted you. With Noah, with his money, and in his house. 

Bradley took out his wallet to pay for dinner and checked the time on his phone. You had sent him a text a while ago. 

Babysitter: Your son is going to be an architect.

Attached was a picture of Noah building an elaborate castle with his blocks, and your bare legs were stretched out alongside him. He couldn't look away. You had bright purple toenail polish, the same color as the fucking crown that was back on his bedpost. Your hand was in the picture too, and all he could imagine was how you used it to pop one colorful Skittle at a time between your glossy lips.

Bradley looked up at Carolyn before he signed the check. "Hey, this was fun, but I'm going to head home for the night." He watched her face fall, surprised that she might have actually been enjoying herself. 

"Oh, okay."

Well, if this had been a good date for her, maybe Bradley really was a lost cause who was way too picky for his own good. Because it had been painful enough for him that he just wanted to be at home on his couch. And if you were there too, then all the better.

He tried not to think about you on the drive home, but as soon as he caught sight of your car, he couldn't stop himself. Your legs and your face and the way you talked to him. Fuck, he needed to get inside. 

When Bradley noisily let himself in, you weren't on the couch. The disappointed feeling of not seeing you right away filled him up as his eyes settled on the paper crowns on the side table. "Hey, I'm home," he called out softly, and then you were poking your head into the living room.

"Hi," you whispered, heading toward him, and he had the urge to open up his arms for you. "Noah had a bad dream. I was just making sure he's okay."

Bradley ran his hand through his hair. "I'll go check on him," he mumbled, inhaling your wildflower scent as he passed you. 

As he bent down to kiss his son, Bradley noticed his pinched face and restless movements. "It's okay, bub," he whispered, smoothing his fingers along the tiny cheeks and forehead. Noah took a deep breath in his sleep and rolled onto this side, and hopefully that was a good sign that he was going to fall into a deeper sleep. 

Bradley walked down the hallway and glanced into his pristine kitchen before making his way back to the living room where you were stacking up your textbooks on the table. If you kept cleaning his house and cooking for him, he was going to have to pay you more. And not just in French vanilla coffee. 

"You're home pretty early," you remarked, looking up at him over your shoulder. "No movie?"

"Nah," he said, wishing you'd stop packing up your tote bag. 

You smirked. "And what exactly was wrong with this one?"

He chuckled and grinned at you. "Well, where do I begin? Her hair was like an inch longer than I can possibly tolerate. And her car was burgundy. I hate burgundy cars. And she doesn't like popcorn."

"Okay," you said with a laugh. "You're just making this shit up."

"I'm not!" he insisted while trying to fight his grin. "She ordered a salad with no dressing! That's not normal! And her nails were painted pink. So boring!"

You were laughing in earnest now. "I'll bet her entire house is beige!"

"Terrifying!" he gasped, gripping his heart. "You're heading out, Princess?"

He watched you carefully look at his empty hands and inspect him all over. "I don't see any wine or beer tonight. No more coffee cups either. Nothing to keep me here," you said with a shrug, but you were smiling. 

"I could make some coffee. Or I have some of that beer left." He didn't know why it felt so important to keep you here longer, but he really wanted to take your bag out of your hand. 

"No, that's okay. You still want me tomorrow night?" you asked, shrugging your tote bag onto your shoulder. 

"Every night," he mumbled, and he watched your lips part slowly as his eyes went wide. "I mean, yeah, tomorrow night, yes. I do still need you tomorrow night."

"Right." 

Your gaze dropped down to his lips, and Bradley was slowly moving before he could stop himself. At first you were frozen in place, and he knew he should be slamming on the brakes, but your tongue darted out to glide across your glossy lips. 

Then you closed the distance between his body and yours with one decisive step, and Bradley was reaching for your pretty face. The skim of his thumb along your cheek as he grazed your neck with his fingertips had your eyes fluttering closed. 

You were perfect. He wanted you. He considered the fact that if he let himself, he could grow to need you. As the tip of his nose brushed your face and his lips barely met yours, he heard Noah call out from his room. "Daddy!"

And with that one word, you were jerking out of his soft grasp like you had been burned. 

"Noah needs you," you said quickly, hoisting your bag higher onto your shoulder as you looked at the couch.

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, wishing you would still meet his eyes. 

But you turned toward the door and waved over your shoulder. "See you tomorrow at 6."

And you were gone. And Bradley was making his way into Noah's room. But Noah was already asleep again.

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

Your heart was pounding as you drove home. You and Bradley had kissed. Just barely, but still. You moaned at the memory of his mustache brushing your upper lip. "Oh my God," you whispered, running your fingers along your lips. Your crush on him was hopeless. Ridiculous. But was it unrequited?

If his date hadn't gone well tonight, why did he need you there again tomorrow? He hadn't even taken that woman to the movie theater after dinner. Was he really going to take her out again? 

What if... what if he wanted to hang out with you? He had mentioned making you some coffee or getting the beers out. You were an idiot. You could be sitting on his couch with him right now, sipping a microbrew IPA and sharing a bag of Skittles. He could be kissing you senseless into the couch cushions. You wouldn't have been stopping him.

"Shit," you gasped, almost turning your car around. But you were already turning onto your block, your little rental house coming into view.

What if. There were too many what ifs. You really liked Bradley. Noah was so sweet, you loved being around him. Their house already felt cozier than your rental. You whined helplessly as you parked and hauled your books inside. 

You spent most of Saturday morning and afternoon blasting music and making snacks while you tried to study. Every time you thought about Bradley, you made yourself run up your stairs to your bedroom and back down, getting a really nice workout in. 

When you checked the time on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor.

Bradley Bradshaw: I wish we hadn't been interrupted last night, Princess.

"Oh, fuck." The text was from nearly an hour ago. You scrambled with clumsy fingers to write back as quickly as you could.

Same. But I hope Noah was okay?

But he didn't write back. So you got yourself ready to go, taking extra care with your hair and makeup.  And an hour later, you were on your way to his house with homemade snacks and so much hope in your heart. Maybe he wanted to spend the evening watching a movie with you and Noah.  

But when you pulled up, there was an SUV in his driveway next to his Bronco, and you had to park on the street. You grabbed your bag that contained just one of your textbooks and a bunch of snacks and eyed the SUV warily as you opened the front door. 

And there stood such a stunningly beautiful woman, you froze halfway through the door. She had dark hair and perfect skin, and her brown eyes were searching you like you were a science experiment or something to examine under a microscope. Just as a smile curled along her lips, you heard Bradley call from the kitchen. "Hey Nat, get in here and help me! You know I need you."

Your heart sank at the sound of his voice beckoning to her. And now she was smiling at you fully as you shut the door behind you and set your bag down. 

"Nat!" Bradley called with laughter in his voice. "Don't make me come get you!"

But this woman was paying him no attention. Rather, she was making her way closer to you and holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Natasha. You must be the babysitter," she said, a teasing, singsong tone to her voice. You instantly felt like this beautiful woman was making fun of you. Putting you in your place.

"Yeah. That's me," you said with as much courage as you could manage. Was this the woman Bradley went out with last night? Was this someone else he was seeing? Maybe a fling he was giving a second chance? God, they would look perfect together. You could honestly picture it.

"Well, I've heard a lot about you, sweetheart." Her eyes were positively twinkling with mirth at your expense now. "It's nice to meet you."

You were just about to ask exactly who she was and why she seemed to know so much about you, but then Bradley appeared in the living room. "Natasha!" his voice boomed, but then he paused when he saw you. "Oh, you're here." His voice softened considerably when he looked at you. He was wearing well worn jeans that clung to his perfect body and a plain, white undershirt. He was so sexy, you could barely think straight.

But why had he texted you that he wished you hadn't been interrupted by Noah if he had this other woman here now? You watched this Natasha walk past him, patting his flat belly as she went into the kitchen.

You felt like crying. You could feel your brow creasing as you tried to hold back the stinging sensation behind your eyes as Bradley made his way over to you.

"Princess." His voice was so soft and he was smirking down at you. 

"Bradley?" But his name fell from your tongue like a question. 

"Come on into the kitchen."

You didn't want to go into the kitchen. You wanted to leave. But he pressed his hand to the small of your back and guided you along. 

"Who is that woman?" you blurted just before you reached the kitchen doorway. 

You felt Bradley's huge hand grip you a little tighter as he laughed. "She's truly horrible, isn't she?"

"What?" you gasped as he guided you into the kitchen. Noah was sitting at the table, making a huge mess with cut up construction paper and a glue stick. And Natasha was fiddling around with Bradley's fancy coffee maker like she freaking lived here. 

"It worked last time I tried to make a latte. What did you do to it?" she asked Bradley, bending over the counter and showcasing her perfect body. 

You thought you might actually hate her. 

"It was supposed to be her treat," Bradley said at the same time that Natasha finally got the machine to do what she wanted, because she stood up and clapped. 

And then Noah spotted you and jumped out of the chair, wrapping his arms around your leg and saying he missed you, even though you'd seen him last night. You almost dropped your tote bag on the floor in all the commotion and emotions, but Bradley caught it and set it on one of the chairs. 

"I was trying to make you a vanilla latte, but I needed Nat to figure it out. Always saving the day, huh?" Bradley said, sharing a high five with Natasha. 

"You're terrible at everything," she told him. "I can't believe they let you fly a Super Hornet."

"I can't believe I've been putting up with you for nearly fifteen years," Bradley told her, running his fingers along your back briefly before he handed you the latte when it finished brewing in a mug that said Noah's Dad.

You held onto it with both hands and whispered, "Thank you." Then you watched Natasha clean up some of Noah's construction paper mess and pat him on the head. 

"Aunt Natasha promises to take you for ice cream next week if you're really good for you dad and your babysitter. Sounds fun, kiddo?" Noah lit up at her words.

"You ready to go?" Bradley asked Natasha, and she just nodded and said she would meet him outside.

"See you around," she told you with a wink. 

You just nodded like an idiot and tried to sip the blazing hot latte. Then you looked up at Bradley's handsome face.

"I might be kind of late tonight. I'll be at Nat's mercy for a ride home."

"Oh," you whispered. "Okay."

But now he was looking at you like he had been last night, as if he wanted to stay here with you instead of going out. 

He sighed deeply. "She's kind of making me go out and socialize with our friends. I guess that's what best friends are good for? Making sure you don't fall off the grid?"

Your heart perked up immediately. "She's your best friend?" you asked softly. He had told you his best friend was a woman. She referred to herself as Noah's aunt. She must be the one who had installed the dating app on his phone. She's the reason you met Bradley in the first place.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "And unfortunately I think it's too late to try to trade her for a better one."

You took a sip of the latte. Suddenly it wasn't too hot. It was perfect. Bradley was perfect, and so was Noah. Even Natasha was truly a delight. You couldn't wait to see her again. 

"Bye, bub," Bradley said, accepting a kiss on his cheek from Noah who was now holding approximately nine colored pencils in each hand. "See you later," he told you with a soft smile, brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen. 

"It's a beautiful day, Noah. Let's go for a hike."

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

Bradley was five beers deep at the Hard Deck when Jake handed him a sixth. "Thanks," he mumbled, kind of hating that Hangman was being nice to him. He wasn't used to this. But Nat must have been telling Bradley the truth when she said everyone missed him. Even Penny had paused for a minute to ask him how he was, and also to make sure things were going well with you babysitting Noah.

"Tell me, Rooster," Jake drawled, "how is your foray into online dating treating you?"

Bradley glared at Nat. "Have you told everyone about the dating app?"

"Not everyone. Javy doesn't know," she replied. 

"What don't I know?" Coyote asked her as he paused on his way to the pool table.

"That Rooster is on a dating app. Oops," Nat said with a grin toward Bradley. "Now everyone knows."

He just shook his head and tried to search out someone else to talk to while he sipped his beer. But Penny was slammed at the bar, and Bradley didn't want to chat up any of the women here. He wanted to chat with you. He wanted a second chance at kissing you, too.

It was late, and Noah would have to be in bed by now. He wondered if you were curled up at the end of his couch reading one of your textbooks. He could picture you placing a single Skittle in your mouth, watching it drag across your bottom lip. He wanted to taste it in your mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled. He wished he had an excuse to text you. Without giving it too much thought, Bradley took a selfie of him with Nat and Jake. He looked okay in it, so he sent it to you. 

"Who are you texting that to?" Jake asked. 

"Nobody," Bradley replied, and after another sip of his beer, he had a text back from you. 

Babysitter: Who's that other guy?

Bradley's shoulders slumped. He should have known better. All women loved Jake. 

His name is Jake. But trust me, Princess, he wouldn't be good for you.

Bradley realized too late that Nat was reading over his shoulder. "Oh my goodness, she's asking about Jake. Poor Bradley," she said, teasingly. 

"Who's asking about me?" Jake drawled.

"Nobody," Bradley said at the same time Nat said, "The babysitter."

Bradley really didn't need that last beer. He was pretty drunk now, and quite frankly his friends were pissing him off. 

"What's she look like?" Jake asked. "And if she's cute, my next question is going to be is she over eighteen?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at Jake. "She wouldn't like you. She's smart."

Jake just laughed. "Oh, Rooster. All women like me." Bradley hated that grin. 

"Rooster has a photo of her saved on his phone," Nat sang, and Bradley wished he could tape her mouth shut.

"Show me," Jake said, and Bradley felt cornered. He pulled up that photo of you in the crown that he already loved so much and held it up for Jake and Nat to look at.

Nat was smirking, but Jake looked like someone had placed a juicy steak in front of him. 

"Holy shit. So how old is she exactly?" he asked, trying to take Bradley's phone. But luckily he wasn't too drunk to pull it away in time. 

"It doesn't matter," Bradley told him, trying to find a way to change the subject. 

"What the fuck are you doing on a dating app when that's waiting at your house? I would be tapping that nonstop," Jake said, shaking his head at Bradley. "In fact, tell her your good buddy Jake is on his way over. Tell her I want her number."

"Absolutely not," Bradley growled. And then there was another text from you.

Babysitter: He's kind of cute. For a blond. 

Bradley sighed and shook his head. He would not allow this to happen.

I can assure you he is not. He has a burgundy car, Princess. And his entire condo is beige. And he hates salad dressing.

Bradley's heart was pounding, and his head was starting to swim. He never drank this much anymore since he had to be attentive to Noah all day long. He was really regretting that last beer when you texted him a photo. Bradley's breath caught in his throat as he looked at a selfie of you laying on his living room area rug and laughing. You looked so young and sweet and perfect.

Babysitter: Nevermind. He doesn't sound like my type at all.

"Atta girl," Bradley said to nobody in particular. Everyone had wandered away from him at this point as he typed out a response.

He's definitely not your type.

Babysitter: You think you know my type?

He watched as Nat paid the tab and waved him toward the door.

I hope so, Princess. I'm on my way home. We can talk about it then.

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

Okay. These texts were getting a little flirty. That Jake guy was cute, but Bradley was definitely more attractive. Jake looked like an older version of Greyson, like the kind of guy you would usually go for: clean cut with an attitude. 

But Bradley. Well. He was definitely something different. He was older, sexier, and you were pretty sure he'd never give you an attitude. Unless you wanted him to. 

And now you were rolling around on his living room carpet, biting your lip to keep from screaming. Then you heard someone pull into his driveway, and you rocketed to your feet.

When you peeked out the window, you saw Bradley being led up the sidewalk by Natasha, which was hilarious, because he was roughly twice her size.

"Bradley," she said, pausing to scold him. "You need to stop laughing and focus on walking."

"I'm fine, Nat," he said, chuckling. 

"You did not need that last beer, did you?" she asked, fumbling to get his keys from him. You could have opened the door for them, but you were frozen, looking at the way his face was bathed in moonlight. 

"Nat, she's inside," he mumbled. 

"Yeah, she is. And you better be sweet so she doesn't ask for Jake's number."

"Fuck Jake," Bradley grumbled, and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing as Nat opened the door. 

"Hi," you said, greeting both of them with a smile.

"Hey, Princess," Bradley said, a crooked grin on his lips. 

Nat shoved him into the house. "Want me to help you get to bed?" she asked, but you held your hand up as Bradley inched closer to you.

"It's okay. I can stay and make sure he gets there."

"Excellent," Nat said with a grin that reminded you of the Cheshire cat. "He's all yours, babe."

And then she was gone, and you had Bradley towering over you, looking at you like he wanted to touch you. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked softly.

He nodded at you, his eyes half lidded as he chuckled. "Yeah. Was Noah good?"

"An angel," you promised, taking him by the hand. "Let's get you to bed, Bradley." Your heart pounded as you tried to pull him to his bedroom, but he wasn't budging. His hand was huge and warm, and he used it to pull you a little closer. 

"Do you like Jake? You think he's cute. He said he wanted your number, and it pissed me off."

You looked up at him wide eyed. He must have had a lot to drink since he was rambling a bit. "It pissed you off that I think he's cute? Or that he wanted my number?"

Bradley scoffed and pulled you against him. "Both. He's not good enough for you." 

"Oh," you gasped, running your palms along his torso where you were suddenly touching him. He was so solid. Substantial. You wondered if he had started to regret that almost kiss last night. You wanted to know what he was thinking about you. "Bradley?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't like Jake. He looks like Greyson, my ex boyfriend." 

He just shook his head a few times, running his big palm along your back again. You could feel yourself melting into him. "You can do better than either of them. You're so pretty."

"Bradley," you whispered as your entire body clenched in need. You couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. 

"You are," he told you, his brown eyes so steady and honest. "You're so funny and smart and pretty." And now he was looking at your lips. 

"Of course. I'm a princess," you told him with a small smile. And then his lips were on yours. His mouth was warm, and he tasted like beer. But you liked it. You really liked it when both of his hands wrapped around your waist, dragging your shirt up a little bit in the process. 

Your lips parted on a gasp as his fingers grazed the bare skin below your ribs. And then he was tasting you, groaning softly as your tongue met his. He was surprisingly soft and sweet, never demanding more than you were giving. Every experimental nibble on his lips led to him reciprocating the actions, making you a little crazier for him. 

When you ran your fingers up along his neck and his cheek, he groaned, "Princess," against your lips. You pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging a bit, and then he was backing you up against the TV stand. 

"Bradley," you whined when his lips found your neck. "Oh, God. You're drunk."

"Not that drunk," he mumbled against your skin, his breath hot, his lips dragging against your earlobe.

You did not want him to stop. That was literally the last thing on your mind right now. But you'd die next time you saw him if he said he regretted this. 

"Bradley," you said a little louder, planting both palms against his chest and pushing him firmly away. 

He released you completely and just stood there looking at you like he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"You're drunk, Bradley," you said softly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry I didn't stop you sooner." You took a few steps away from him, and he followed you like a puppy with sad eyes.

"I wanted that. Since last night. Since last week."

You just shook your head. "But you're drunk. You're the epitome of an unreliable narrator."

He just looked at you like he couldn't get enough and laughed. "How are you so funny?" he asked softly, brushing his fingers along your cheek. You were terrified that you'd follow him to his bedroom if he asked, but he wasn't in the right mind to be voicing any sorts of opinions concerning you or your lips or how funny he found you. 

"Just, go sit on the couch, okay?" you instructed, guiding him that way with a hand on his massive bicep. He dropped down onto the couch, all rosy cheeks and long, splayed legs, looking up at you like he expected you to join him. "I'll get you some water."

You dashed into the kitchen without another thought, gripping the edge of the hard granite counter with your shaky fingers. 

You wanted him. You wanted Bradley. And he was on a quest to find the right woman while you were simply here to watch Noah for him. You needed to get a grip on things. You needed to straighten this out. 

After a few deep breaths, you filled a cup with cold water and reached down the bottle of Advil you noticed on the top self next to the mugs. If Bradley was able to hold a conversation when you went back into the living room, you'd try to get him to explain what was going on. You squared your shoulders, but when you saw him, he was sprawled across the entire couch, sound asleep. 

With a deep sigh, you set the water and the Advil on the small table next to him. You watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, his face calm and smooth. His lips were parted slightly, and you could see the perfect white of his teeth. Gently, you pushed his wavy hair back from his forehead, letting your fingers linger in the soft strands. 

He might not even remember kissing you tomorrow. 

You took a sheet of paper and a pen out of your bag and left him a note next to his water. Then you checked that the back door was locked before giving Noah a kiss on his forehead. And with one last look at Bradley dozing peacefully, you left, locking his front door behind you.

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

Wow, Bradley. Do it when you're sober, bro. I hope you enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[ohnomytummy]

Hi, I have a story from this Thanksgiving that I thought this community would like, and I don't have a kink blog to post it to so I'm gonna share it here cause I know your box is always open. Lol

I'm relatively thin, severely underweight for a good chunk of my childhood, have always been poor so I've never gotten to indulge too much in feasting, not in this economy. But long backstory short, I had the house to myself for pretty much 4 days straight for Thanksgiving break, along with all the leftover food from the entire family thanksgiving.. I was asked to toss most of it because we didn't have room in the fridge and it would go bad, but I didn't want any of it to go to waste.. you can probably tell where his is going..

I have a pretty sensitive stomach since I get full pretty quick, and I'm also lactose intolerant and most meat makes me gassy (and sweaty for some reason?), but for some reason none of that mattered to me, I put a YouTube series I've been itching to watch on my phone and munched on everything that was in front of me which included:

-almost half of a turkey that had been sitting out on the table for a day

-a platter of cheese and cube/slice things and pepperoni/some other meat I forgot

-I wanna say maybe 20 small sugar cookies (the puffy Walmart ones with frosting)

-about 2 litres total of a miz of lemonade, sprite, ginger ale, and coca cola

- 5 bread rolls with melted cheese and butter

-uncounted handfuls old candy I still had from Halloween....

I didn't even realize I'd been eating so much, but I guess since it was all over the course of about a day (9 hours-ish?) It was gradual enough that I didn't realize I'd gone overboard until the end. I remember reaching for the next thing getting ready and thinking "wow i wonder how much ive eaten" and seeing that the answer was all of it. I was wearing an elastic tank top, and I looked down and holy shit I looked pregnant. The tank top is kind of long but there was maybe an inch of belly sticking out from underneath naturally, and the tank top itself was like vacuum sealed tight to my skin!

This is where stuff gets crazy. I put my hand on my stomach to rub it and I could feel it churning under my hand, from the inside ofc and through my belly. I'd been burping throughout the whole stuffing absent-mindedly, but now that it was all setting in, I felt like I was going to puke. I couldn't even feel nauseous at first, it was just PAIN in my middle and I could barely get up. I'm so glad I was alone because I was moaning and rubbing my belly with both hands, holding it as I tried to get up. I could feel myself bringing up burps with every exhale, they were like.. soft and quiet but also really deep and sick, coming out with every breath, like "... urrrrrrp.. hic-hurrrrrp... uurppp. ur-urrp... hic-hUuuurrrrrrrrrp..." and with groans after each one lmao. I made my way to the bathroom eventually and sat by the toilet, sure I was gonna be sick, but I wasn't. I almost wanted to be, but I think I was just too scared to puke. So I sat back against the tub, facing the toilet, my whole body was covered in a cold sweat atp and i was rubbing my belly, and I could feel every single rumble as it ripped through my stomach and rose up as a belch. I couldn't stop burping like I was just about crying on the bathroom floor, bloated as a tick, belching helplessly. After a few minutes the burps started slowing down, but they were much more wet when they did come up. I think the meat and lactose was probably digesting now because I actually started to feel queasy. I started holding in my burps in fear that the food might come up, but then the air started xoming out the back. Starting with small short toots, leading to nauseous farts that, much like the burps, WOULDNT STOP. I was uncontrollably farting, small short bursts every few seconds and idk how to describe it but the farts felt pukey somehow. My stomach was churning like crazy and I could hear it from the outside (still felt intense as I rubbed it too). All the while the original belches never really stopped, so I was just on the floor, gas from both ends pouring out. My stomach was so hard and tight it felt like a bowling ball attached to me and my shirt was so tight it was so hot in hindsight but I felt like I was dying in the moment. Anyways I eventually fell asleep on the floor, woke up feeling sick, burped and farted next to the toilet again and tried doing the doggy-style yoga pose (best that I could, anyways, with my bloated upset tummy still filled with rotting undigested Thanksgiving leftovers) and kept farting until out of nowhere I almost shat myself, I think the position I was in moved the air along but the air took some stuff with it, so now I had to abandon that and sit on the toilet with a trash bin next to me because I couldn't fit it between my legs (my tummy took up the room lol) and it was mostly just me being sick from both ends, along with super uncontrollable rumbly burps and farts that just would not ever fucking stop.

Once it was all out things went back to normal, other than me being really gassy for a few more days.

I will let my uh *cough* community have this 😳🥵

[virto-the-weirdo]

ANIMALS OF THE LAND OF KINGS - concept #1 ♤

Call it an AU because it's not a confirmed theory, I'm here to bring you a worldbuilding concept for the Land of kings universe. I feel like it has whay more storytelling potential than it initially seems.

SO, let's talk about animals in the card world!

... there aren't any.

Except for that one brown turtle that somehow got it's way into Zontopia.

Anyways, this fact doesn't sit right with me. Like, shure, the argument for why there aren't any animals is probably:

"Oh, it's because the clones didn't need them for their societies to function, so they didn't create them."

But imagine how much richer the world would be with them!

Now, maybe we are wrong and some clones made animals, which we just haven't seen because we haven't even seen much of their countries yet. My guess is that Kuromaku, Dante and Spade made some. (Taking into account that Gabriel already made at least one turtle, I don't have to guess because we know he did do that.)

And I'll start the theory by suggesting an example of what kind of an animal would Spade create for his country.

BEHOLD!

Spade's warhog!

Why would Spade create such creatures? What purpose would they serve him? Why would it be worth wasting generator energy on them?

I'm glad you didn't ask! I'll explain and give arguments for it anyways!

Arguments:

1. Meat

So far, in the land of kings, we only saw people eating plant-based food (mostly in Felicia and Zontopia). Now, this might as well be the only type of food people eat here because there aren't any animals that would provide meat.

Meaning people in the land of kings are vegan.

Seeing as how Spade's favourite stuff to eat is meat, I have a feeling the prideful King Emperor would rather starve than be forced to be a vegan for the rest of his life.

And we do still want to be reasonable and somewhat teenager friendly in the comics, so I don't think cannibalism is an option. Besides, Spade probably has too much pride to resort to such undignified and inhumane practices.

So, how do we solve this problem? Easy! Create a big animal that you can farm and exploit for meat. For a traditional example, a big boar!

And why stop at meat? Perhaps make few breeds of this animal that give milk, and boom - we got milk based products as well!

Now Spade's country is the least vegan place in the card world, and can finally make a proper sandwich with ham and cheese!

2. Various uses for various breeds

If I remember correctly, in comic it was established that citizens live shorter, or at least age quicker, than the clones.

Now, irl animals usually have shorter lifespans than humans, meaning that in the Land of kings, their lives are even shorter, meaning that the process of making new breeds is much faster than irl.

Making breeds is useful because it diversifies the uses of the animal without needing to waste generator energy on a new one.

Here are sketches of some breeds that I think citizens of Spade's country could make, as well as few notes about their characteristics for each:

I'll tackle some uses more in depth in the following arguments.

3. Materials

The animal and plant based materials are a really useful resource. Not only can it be reused to produce more of itself (example, dead plant and animal matter enriches the soil so more plants can grow to feed the people and animals), but once the species is created with the generator energy, Spade doesn't need to use any more generator energy to create more of them.

Depending on the breed, the warhogs not only give meat, but also leather, wool, bones etc.

Animal materials can be used to make good quality clothes, as well as many household items, like leather covered furniture and wool blankets.

Also, I feel like Spade would find a use for bones in clothes accesories as well because I feel like he'd love to look even more edgy and intimidating lol.

4. Trade

An interesting possibility we haven't seen much in the Land of kings.

Why don't clones trade resources with eachother? Do they think they do not need each other's stuff?

Lack of this activity might make sence if we consider that all raw materials are produced by the generator energy, so they all have basic resources and there is no need to aquire them from others (water, stone, iron, etc.).

What they can trade are products specific to their country, but that also depends on how interested the people of other countries are in those.

However, something a lot of people might be interested in trying that comes from other countries is cuisine aka. food (probably misspelled cuisine but whatever).

Think about it, at one point Felicians might get curious what else is there to eat besides raddish-based products.

Same goes for other countries.

(A possible interaction between a Spade spy and a tratiorous Felician.)

And seeing as how, hypothetically, no other country produces meat-based products, Spade has got himself a humble monopoly in the card world.

5. Sign of power and taming practices

Now, this is a bit more related to the abstract implications of creating this animal, as well as it's nature.

Taking care of an animal is not an easy task. Doing that implies that not only do you have enough resources and power to take care of yourself, but also for a whole other creature! Apply that on a larger scale that is Spade's country and you get the impression that his country is, indeed, incredibly capable and powerful to sustain both a population of people and animals.

However, there is a difference between taking care for a goldfish and a dog.

I imagine, to show off how powerful his country is, Spade would deliberatley make his boars dangerous. He'd give them an inherintly wild nature, big horns and tusks, and make them giant in size.

Why? So he can look like an even more badass ruler!

Anybody can take care of a population of animals, but only Spade's country can counquer these wild beasts and subjugate them to their will!

I imagine Spade's taming practices would be incredibly cruel. In order to get the boars to do his bidding, he'd firsth break their will to fight him, and then manipulate them with fear. Redirecting the animal's agresion could also be a metod he'd encourage.

If the boar doesn't give up easily and continues to be disobedient, it would either end up in an arena (more on that later) or as somebody's lunch.

6. Intimidation and war strategy

Spade's empire seems to be among the more technologically advanced countries of the card world, judging by the glimpse of his country in the Tome of clubs where we see all the construction machinery.

So why WARhogs?

Well, once Spade creates the boars and starts trading meat, a word would probably get around the card world about the scary beasts that boars are and create the already mentioned and calculated image of a powerful country that tamed those creatures.

This can also invoke a subtle fear among other subjects, a glance of what kind of terrifying force other countries might expect shall they ever go at odds with Spade's Empire. For if they can tame the boars, shurley they can use them against other countries.

But would he ever really use them against other countries in warfare, while he has powerful machinery at disposal?

I think he would, but it depends on who he is fighting!

You see, not all countries in the Land of kings are as equally as advanced as Kuromaku and Spade's are.

For example, Zontopia doesn't seem to use much technology ever since the original communication system "broke".

So if Spade goes to war against Brolly's country, not only is Brolly severly outmatched, but Spade wastes so much fuel and resources to get his tanks and machines to achieve the same goal he could reach if he simply sent in an army of Warhog-riders with superior weapons just strapped onto the warhogs.

7. Entertainment and punishment

Allright, let's say Spade has a few disobedient warhogs at disposal that are whay too violent and impressive to be turned into steak.

Like, Spade can see these boars have so much potential but do not listen to him. Shurley there must be a way not to waste it?

Well, boars aren't the only thing that is occasionally disobedient in his country. So are his people!

Traitors, criminals, revolutionarys, scoundrels that refuse to follow the strict order and law in the empire... Death sencence awaits some of them, and knowing Spade, he'd probably make public executions a thing to set an example to others of what happends when you go against the Empire.

Adding into the equasion that his country seems to draw some inspiration from the ancient Rome, it makes sence that he'd take after their entertainment practices...

That's right, Spade would build arenas, very similar to roman ones - but purple, where he'd force his criminals to fight for their lives against the wildest and most dangerous warhogs in his country!

(Imagine the following example, but high-tech and better shade of purple:)

It's a fight to the death kind of execution where the criminal has a slim chance to live if they manage to kill the beast before it ends them.

If the criminal somehow manages to slay all the boars they are pit against, they can become a gladiator whose life is now chained to the arena, where they will fight against other animals and criminals for the entertainment of other subjects untill they are eventually slain in one of the battles.

This not only solves the problem of rouge people and animals, but also creates a spectacle out of public executions, reinforcing the fear of regime in other citizens as well as providing entertainment for them.

Arena fights in Spade's country would probably be regarded as a type of theatre, similarly to how they were in ancient Rome.

This concludes the list of reasons why I believe Spade would create animals for his country.

Also, as if all of this wasn't enough, here is a Land of kings OC sketch based on these concepts:

(Also, some of her expression sketches:)

Her name is general Atalanta, and she supervises any and all activities relating to boars/animals within Spade's Empire, which includes running the gladiator arena. She is a great fighter and and hunter, and is experienced when it comes to animal control. She has an electric whip as her weapon which she uses when the warhogs act out of line.

So yea, thank you for coming to my Land of kings concept talk.

I do have more ideas for more possible Land of kings animal concepts but don't expect me to write a post about it because this already took a few days to write and draw and idk if I'll feel like doing that again. In short, I make no promises.

[shoku-and-awe]

Last night my aunt brought us A LOT of wine and I ended up promising that I’d make her chickpea flour pasta before she left early this morning. (“Promising” makes it sound like she requested it, huh........ a better term would maybe be “threatening”?)

It was kind of a slapdash operation and I didn't want to waste food if it didn't work, so I decided to do a quarter portion of this recipe (just 100g flour & 1 egg) as a trial and serve it with brown butter.

It looks like sugar cookie dough, no? It was VERY sticky, even after resting in the fridge, and I realized immediately that it would not stand up to the pasta maker. I'd never rolled or cut noodles by hand before!

That was an experience. It turned out like a very ragged fettuccine. Some were maybe more pappardelle. Others were just shreds. Then I put them in the water and guess what?

Then all of them were shreds! Potion of turn your pasta into spaetzle. It took absolutely forever to cook, too—maybe 4 or 5 times as long as fresh wheat pasta? I think they also grew in size a lot more too. They tasted very, very, very beany while they were al dente, but the flavor became more neutral the longer they cooked. However, by the time it tasted like pasta, it was just a pile of shreds.

But a delicious pile of shreds! It was tasty and satisfying with brown butter, cracked pepper, parmigiano-reggiano cheese, and a bit of chili flake. If you used a real sauce, you might actually mistake the flavor for real pasta.

Not so much the texture, though. It was noticeably different than wheat pasta, but people said it was still within the realm of pasta texture and therefore better than some other non-wheat pastas they'd tried. (This was my first so I had no basis for comparison.)

I did forget the corn flour, which I think would've added something nice but not changed the outcome much. Most other recipes use things like xantham gum and tapioca flour, which I assume would make it stronger and smoother, buuut we didn't have them and my aunt would definitely refuse to eat them anyway, so!!! I was happy to find a recipe with minimal/pantry ingredients.

Next time, maybe I could roll the dough out thicker and do lasagna sheets? That might stand up to cooking better, and if I got even a few good ones, I could put them on top and hide all the ragged ones underneath 😈

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 2: Good Directions

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis shows you a couple of his favorite spots around town.

Word count: 2,229

Content/warnings: Kissing, conversation, pet name usage, really not much else, a sprinkle of angst?

Author’s Note: Takes place directly after the last chapter, and then there are a few time skips, so it ends at the same place as YCMBWH ch. 8

All feedback is greatly appreciated. I love hearing back from you, even if it’s a keyboard smash. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Cleaning up went relatively fast after Curtis stepped away. After you finished counting the drawer and wiping down the counters finally, you saw him leaning against the wooden frame, chatting with Edgar. As soon as you walked up to them, Edgar bid the two of you goodbye.

“Okay, cheese curd, ready to go?” He laughed as his cheeks flushed a little pink. He nodded, opening up the door for you and leading you out to his truck.

He helped you to hop up into the passenger seat before jogging over to his side to get in. You’ve never seen a man that big move so smoothly. It must be the farming, really. Man, you had wasted your time with those city boys. Once he was settled in and had started the car, he sat there, still for a second, before looking over to you.

“So, Cherry, have a good day at work?” It was as if he had just simply picked you up. Like this was something he’d done before and he planned to do way more in the future. You let out a giggle at his playfulness and nodded.

“Oh yeah, great day. There was this one guy who kept begging for my attention, though. But I guess it was alright, because his friend with the fancy credit card left me a huge tip.”

Curtis teasingly scoffed, but it morphed into a smile to which you returned a wink when he turned his whole body towards you in the bench seat, propping his arm up across the back of it. His body looked so big, taking up the truck cab like that, yet so inviting.

“So where to, Missy? I know a lot about you, but not exactly where you live.”

You nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah, start driving and I’ll direct you.”

You took the opportunity to slide in under his arm before he could to move it, as he shifted back to face forward. As you settled into his side, Curtis kept his eyes forward, but it was impossible to miss the way the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparked as he took a deep breath, still otherwise unmoving for a second.

Curtis moved his arm anyway, just for a second, to shift the truck into gear, then put it right back to where it was around you, squeezing you closer than before and starting his drive.

Curtis insisted on walking you up to your apartment after the short drive, which seemed like no time at all with how easy it was to talk to him. He’d been so kind, and you know Edgar had been just as decent lately, but this seemed different. It seemed like…more.

When you got to the door, you turned around and were met with the view of Curtis with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched forward.

As your eyes met, you could feel the tension in the air, not sure where to go next. Not sure if maybe he felt the same static around the moment as you. Perhaps he was just being nice with everything lately, and that’s how they simply were in small towns, but again, it felt like way more than that. Either way, the easy conversation somehow escaped you now as your eyes shifted between his. Before you could even help it, you blurted out, “Would you just kiss me?”

Your hands gripped the collar of his flannel shirt and Curtis was taken aback by your directness. Hell, you were, too. His brain was screaming out to him. If he would’ve been able to decipher the internal screeching and put it into words, he would’ve said something along the lines of “Of course, I’ve been waiting to since the night I met you,” but instead, the wiring to his mouth must’ve been cut, since all he produced was a, “What?”

You laughed and shook your head at his expression and inability to register your words, before worry began to seep in. “I’d like to think I’m reading this right and was hoping you’d confirm it? Would you ki-“

Curtis’s brain finally caught up from the lag, and he immediately leaned down and smashed his lips against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were the one wearing the brainless expression, eyes open and owlish at his confirmation of your feelings. You watched as his eyes slowly opened and a goofy smile came onto his face.

“I don’t think you read that wrong at all.” Curtis whispered between small pants.

“I, uh. I’ve got an early morning, but I enjoyed chatting with you tonight. I’d really like to see you again…maybe this coming week? Outside of your work and outside of the shop, you and me could do something?”

You nodded and bit your lip. “Yeah, I’d really like that. I’ll text you my schedule.”

You unclenched your hands from the fabric of his shirt and ran them down his chest. His oh-so-firm chest, before you realized maybe that was too far for tonight. You quickly moved your hands to be busy with something else, fishing for the doorknob behind you. “Good night, Curtis. Thank you for the ride.”

He simply nodded, watching you close the door and listening for the lock before turning on his heel and heading back to his car.

That week, Curtis kept his word. On Tuesday, he knew you had off work, so he surprised you by showing up at your door with a picnic basket in hand, only having given you about an hour of notice in advance, which was just enough time to get dressed and ready.

“Hey. I made us a little something. Wanna go for a ride?”

You nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand, heading out to his truck and hopping up. You could see the blankets in the truck bed already.

You watched the country roads and fields go by until Curtis pulled into a gorgeous meadow. The sun, low in the sky, was casting a reflective glow across the wildflowers and golden grasses.

Curtis put the truck in park and hopped down, reaching for you as you scooted across the bench seat and into his arms, where he helped you down. The calluses on his well-worked hands traced down your arms to grab your hands, sending a tingle through your body, as he led you to the tailgate. He helped you jump up before stepping up, himself, once again more gracefully than you would’ve expected for someone of his stature.

He laid out the blankets before helping you settle in to the laid out picnic.

It was a perfect date. After the meal, which was surprisingly good, you and Curtis just sat there, cuddled up in the corner of the bed, where you were squeezed in between his legs to watch the sunset. The warmth on your face mixed with that of his body behind you was comforting-almost too much.

You began to shift in his hold, the weight of everything kicking in. Maybe this was too much, too fast. You had just gotten here, the last thing you needed was to let yourself get sucked in, even if he was just so kind. Did you even know enough about him yet to say that?

Curtis took note of the change in the tone of the environment and moved around your side to look at you.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Sure, it was. You had been the one mostly pushing for things. You had been the one to kiss him, so why were you suddenly so on edge? You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat before nodding.

“Uh, yeah. Just, um… this is really nice.”

Maybe the care he was showing was unlike what you were used to. Everywhere you went, it was just…you. But suddenly, someone else cared about what was going on in your life and made an effort to take part in it. You’re cleared your throat and attempted to clear the tears from your eyes before he could see them. You turned away from his knowing gaze and looked out towards the field.

“Everything’s really beautiful. Can you tell me about around here? I just wanna hear you talk.”

Curtis grabbed your hand with both of his, rubbing his thumbs along the back of it. He gave you a reassuring look and just simply a nod, leaning back once more and going through the history of the farm, what all the fields were used for, and the different animals, his deep voice lulling you back to a state of comfort. He told you about the old country store on the one corner, with an old Coca-Cola sign, and how his aunt used to make the best sweet tea. You settled back against his chest easily, taking in the warmth again, losing the sense of false alarm which threatened your enjoyment, and finally accepting the peace you thought you might find here.

After that night and the amount that Curtis opened up to you, seeing him was a much more regular occurrence, especially once you had gotten the call that the part for your truck came in. The repair took longer than anticipated, though, since Curtis had to be careful of the other parts of the engine with them all being so old. The wrong move could result in the necessity of ordering yet another part and essentially having to start the process over again. And as much as he would’ve liked to keep having reasons to talk to you, he wasn’t looking for more ways to dig into your pockets, or better yet, his since unbeknownst to you, he already had decided to comp this whole job.

The long-stretching work resulted in a few late nights of Curtis taking you back to the shop with him so he could show you the progress, teach you more about the other parts of the engine you weren’t as familiar with, and maybe kiss a little bit in the break room after he washed his hands for the day.

Some nights you’d snag him dinner from the bar and he’d drive you back out into the fields, instead, sharing snacks, and conversations, and a view of the unhindered stars that lit up and reflected in his eyes. He was made for here. He matched everything so perfectly, and you matched him.

Every so often, things would switch up, Curtis would sit with his head in your lap looking up at the sky while you told him stories of your travels, what life was like in various cities, and how all the people were different. Those places were never home, though. But this place felt like it, maybe he felt like it.

You ran your fingers through his cropped hair, staring up at the sky when he spoke up between your stories.

“So you remember my cousin? And Bucky?”

You hummed and nodded, tearing your eyes from the sky to look into Curtis’s and moved your hand from the top of his head to scratch through his beard.

“Well Bucky’s only got a few nights left in town, and I know you’ve got a day off coming up. I think we’re gonna have a bonfire. You wanna join?”

You thought for a second. This was essentially Curtis asking you to meet his family. If you hadn’t felt so secure with him, you would’ve hesitated, but there was no question and you’d take any opportunity to be with him and those he considered closest. They were funny from what you remember. Kind, polite, and seemed just as decent as him.

“Sounds good.”

The night of the bonfire was almost like any other time with you and Curtis. Warm, comfortable, enjoyable. Well, at least on your end.

You were sitting with your back up against Curtis, the bonfire smoke struggling to fight off the bugs, as you sensed something was off. Bucky and Bee sitting across from you seemed…sad. Like there was a cloud over their heads despite the wonderful weather lately.

You tried your best to make conversation and keep it. Maybe even avoiding the fact that you thought Bucky was simply a temporary farmhand, but now he seemed more like a boyfriend. Who were you to talk? Curtis was technically your mechanic. Your strong, smart mechanic who if you didn’t know better, you’d say was keeping your car for ransom so he could keep driving you places. Perhaps purposely walking through every repair step twice. That wasn’t the point right now, though, so you tried to talk to Bucky: the one who you’d heard less about.

He’d asked you what you thought of town, and if your time with Curtis was any indication, you loved it. So you asked him, as well. He seemed really locked in, like he wanted to stay forever, despite only being here temporarily as had been explained to you.

“But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

At that question, the already humid air thickened and you felt Curtis tense up behind you. Oh no, were you not supposed to say something about that? You tried to hold your expression in. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge the discomfort, no one else would, but you heard Bucky’s quiet answer.

“Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did I write another truck bed date? Yes. And would I do it again? You can bet on it.

Taglist: @angelcavill66 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[alicentsgf]

Alicent is such a frustrating and joyless character to watch, that’s it’s not even fun to analyze her anymore, since the writers are willing to change her motivations at the drop of a hat. She’s a nothing character, she’s just a prop that exists to wallow in misery as payback for not throwing herself on the alter of Rhaenyra, a person who has continually done nothing for her. It just doesn’t make sense that she gets so many justifications that she and her children won’t be safe under her reign or with them basically at her mercy: Aemond’s eye, Laenor’s “death”, Rhaenyra remarrying her unstable uncle that no one wanted near the throne, Vaemond’s death, Viserys in general and that’s before season one is done. But all of a sudden, she thinks that Rhaenyra will be a good queen. But why? What has Rhaenyra done to make her think that besides running away to Dragonstone? If it’s because she thinks Aegon sucks so much, that he couldn’t keep them safe, then why does she think Rhaenyra would? If she was just ambitious and wanted power, then what was the point of Otto’s speech when he was first fired? Her grandson is brutally murdered and never mentions it the two times she see Rhaenyra after the fact, probably because she doesn’t want to make her feel like the bad guy. (I feel like blood and cheese is an entirely different rant for how it ruins every single character involved and how it has especially no impact on the story.) Though I guess that’s a problem with most of the female characters they bothered giving development to. Character motivations will change from episode to episode that the inconsistency gets grating. Sorry about the rant, this show had so much potential and it wasted a majority of it.

The fact is you cant tell alicents story and make rhaenyra some kind of heroine. And the showrunners are cowards. They focused too much on audience expectations and were too afraid or too blinded by their own ideals to write either of our girls the way the story needed. They literally did sacrifice alicent at the alter of rhaenyra, in every possible way. And what we're not rly talking about is how this ruins rhaenyra as well. She no longer fits in this story either. They're so intertwined that if Rhaenyra isnt who she is, which in HotD she is not !!, then Alicent cant be who she is either. They're counterweights and you have to place all the burden on alicent for rhaenyra to rise.

[cascade05]

DIY (Independent S/O Idea)

I see so many posts about Bakugo who takes care of his s/o and it’s cute and nice, but what if he was dating or married to someone who liked being alone and was used to taking care of themselves?

Warnings : Some language, unedited, also this is way longer than I thought it was gonna be, reader has a big-ass dog, ummmmmm... think that's it

☾ This is a little self-indulgent so bare with me ☽

So, before meeting Bakugo you lived alone. Maybe you had a dog or maybe you had a cat or a lizard, I dunno. Point is, you lived alone. And you liked it that way. You had grown up in a pretty full house without a moment of peace—which was fun and enjoyable sometimes—so, growing up, you knew you never wanted to live with another person EVER again. That also meant you wanted zero romantic relationships because no.

A romantic relationship involves two people who were willing to give to each other. Be it time, energy, or just a listening ear, they would give of themselves to their loved one all because they, well, loved them. You could give. You were very good at giving. Ever since you were a young, blubbering toddler, you gave things to others because it made you feel good to know they were happy. When you are older, you gave other tings—time, energy, money—you were very good at giving.

It was the taking part of the equation—the asking for help and support and love part—that you knew you'd struggle with. People said you could learn but you didn't want to. As a kid, you had spent your whole life giving, but people rarely gave things to you—toys, little gifts, sure. You got those things often enough, but the deeper things in life? The things that were a little harder to give? A listening ear? Empathy? Patience? Support? You didn't have a lot of that. So, you gave that to yourself the best you could because you were good at giving.

You were more independent than most and you were happy like that. You didn't want to learn how to take because you were more than content being by yourself, thinking by yourself, living for yourself... That sort of thing wouldn't be fair for your s/o and it wasn't like you wanted an intimate relationship so you remained single—a virgin in every physical sense of the word.

Then, he showed up. (Hehehehehehehehhehehehehe)

It was a normal evening for you. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on, you didn't feel weird, and your giant fluffy dog (self-indulgent, I know 😔) was lounging about at your feet while you worked. Normal. Your online business was going very well—yes, I'm talking entrepreneur kind of independent—and the ac was blowing the perfect temperature so things were normal—they were especially good, actually.

Then, he showed up.

Out of the blue, something crashed into your house—through your bedroom balcony, it sounded like. Your dog (Imma name him Biji (Short for Bijronson)—self-indulgent—but you can name him—or her—whatever, I guess...) Anyway, your dog shot up from his spot because of course he did, you did too. He trotted to the bedroom door—not a happy trot, but a cautious, purposeful one—and stood at it, watching whatever was going on.

You arrived next, eyes widening at the whole-ass man who fell into your apartment—into your life but you didn't know that yet. You knew who he was. Of course you knew who he was. The number two hero was a very noticeable man. He was large, a foot taller than you at least. His shoulder width was ridiculous and only enhanced by his small waste. Such a snatched thing. Truly a Doritos shape worthy of nacho cheese dreams. (Nacho cheese Doritos are mvp, don't fight me)

Then there was his stupidly handsome face. A scar ran down the right of it—from the edge of his hairline down to his upper neck. His light blond eyebrow was missing in the middle and his crimson eye was a little milky. He wasn't completely blind in it, but rumor said he would be soon. Most people said it wasn't a pretty sight but you always disagreed. Not only did it look badass, but it proved he went to hell and was strong enough to come back. Which was cool as fuck.

He was awesome—maybe a little bit of a jerk but you didn't need to like him as a person because you didn't know him a just a person. You knew him as Dynamight. As a hero, and he was a damn good hero. More often than not you would joke with your closest friends saying “If he's not Dynamight, I don't want it.“

“Dynamight is the bar.“

“He has to at least be six-foot Dynamight stature before I'll even think about it.“

Silly shit like that—all of which was just that. Silly. A joke. Never in a million years would you want to date Dynamight or any of the other pros you joked about. Your friends knew that. Everyone would share similar jokes before consoling their poor husbands or wives or boos or whatever because it was just a silly thing. You wouldn't even call what you had a celebrity crush. Dynamight and his companions were hot, attractive people. Simple as that. You appreciated the pictures, kay. And what they did for Japan, of fucking course.

We're getting off topic though. What was the topic again? Oh, right.

Dynamight was in your bedroom. On your bed. Your broken bed, might I add. All while you stood wide-eyed in your doorway, frozen as if you were the one who barged in on him. Then he slowly sat up, running a gloved hand through his sooty ash-blond spikes to rid it of glass. It pulled you out of your shocked state. It was then you realized Biji was barking and had been for awhile.

You moved to grab his collar just as the man stood up from his spot. You had been trying to sush your dog but those attempts came to a halt when you saw the condition the hero was in. Thankfully, it didn't seem life-threatening but, then again, you weren't a doctor and that shit looked like it hurted.

“Uh,“ you began, unsure of how to proceed.

The man looked around your room with what looked like disgust and you almost wanted to mouth off at him for the audacity before you realized he wasn't disgusted the dorky pictures of you and loved ones pasted on your dark walls. He looked confused. He turned around in your room a few times, eyeing the place and muttering confused curses. It was then you began to wonder how hard he had hit his pretty head.

You moved to straddle your strong dog who hadn't stopped barking completely but had calmed just a little. He was still on guard but you weren't scared—he sensed that.

“Hey, Mr—“ —were you supposed to say mr— “Dynamight?“

He looked at you. It was a sharp, unimpressed look and you wondered why until you saw his eyes dropped to your ramen pajama pants. The ones that said, “send noods.“ Not that they were embarrassing at all, you told yourself.

The man gave you and your barking companion a once over, gaze lingering on the large black and white dog you were effectively holding back. He looked tired, you noticed. Dynamight clicked his tongue before turning around and walking towards the sizable hole in your glass doors. “Wrong apartment,“ he mumbled and you gaped.

Ruining your beautiful and lovely bed because he was defending citizens from villains was one thing. You could let it pass cause he had a lot more shit to deal with than your glass-ridden floors and broken wall. His agency would cover the damages anyways.

Ruining your shit because he blasted his hot ass into the wrong apartment, however, was a whole other thing. Would he finance the repairs you needed to make? You hoped so but you didn't know, it wasn't during a fight, after all. No, he wasn't leaving until he promised his agency would take care of it. And until he recovered a little because he looked very unsteady on his feet.

“You're leaving?“ was your stupid, shocked question.

He scoffed. You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. Yes, you were enjoying the view and you would've enjoyed it a hell of a lot more if his torn shirt didn't show off his numerous gashes and cuts. Suddenly, you didn't feel like bitching to him about your apartment—you would make him pay for it, but later.

The crunching of glass caught your attention and you realized he really was leaving like that. “Hey, you're hurt,“ you said dumbly because you weren't really sure how to convince him to stay long enough for you to help.

“No shit,“ was his rude—but fair—response.

You huffed in annoyance. At least Biji's barking had stopped and he seemed calmer, albeit tense. Dynamight crashed into the wrong apartment, right? So he was aiming for an apartment in the complex, right? “You're apartment's in this building? Right?“

He said nothing but he didn't need to because you could see the gears in his head turning—could see the realization in his crimson eye. He knew what you were about to suggest but you said it anyway. “Just leave out the door—the actual door, not the one you DIYd,“ you said obviously, nodding to the broken glass.

He looked at said DIY door and grumbled something under his breath. Then he turned to face you. You rose a brow at his glare. It was his turn to nudge his head and he gestured it to your dog. “That flea-bag gonna let me through?“

“His name is Biji—“ “I don't give a fuck—“ “—and he might let you through, so long as you say please.“

The word please must've kickstarted an allergic reaction of some kind because Dynamight's face scrunched up like he swallowed piss. It was oddly adorable and you mentally nodded in satisfaction. If only he made such a face where cameras could catch and immortalize it.

“The hell is wrong with you? You think just cause I'm in your apartment you can order me around?!“

He was starting to raise his voice. Your hold tightened on Biji's collar as the dog began barking again. You took a deep breath in an effort to prevent your own anger from spilling out. “Yes,“ you damn near hissed, tugging Biji back because he was pulling.

Dynamight did not appreciate the answer but you didn't give him a second to bitch about it. “Might I remind you of how you barged in here out of nowhere. I'm not entirely calm and neither is he so, if you want him to be civil, say. Fucking. Please.“

“Be friendly,“ was really what you were telling him. He didn't look like he liked the idea, so you helped him out. “You ruined my door, broke my bed—which people don't get to do until after they take me out for dinner, by the way—“ —he scrunched his face again and you wanted to laugh— “and now I get to clean all that shit up. So, the least you could do is get your dirty ass over here to show Biji that you aren't as much of a threat as first impressions implied.“

A teenager getting his phone taken away—no, a kindergartner getting told to stand in the corner was what the giant hulking man ahead of you reminded you of. With more annoyance than you thought possible, Dynamight begrudgingly drug himself closer to you. He stopped a few feet away—stopping as soon as Biji became a little more frantic.

You gently caressed the dog's side, whispering and muttering calming words to him, promising him the giant man was a friend. Dynamight was allergic to that word too, but he sucked it up—as he should—and slowly removed one of his gloved before holding out the back of his hand to your dog.

Biji wanted to jump out of your hold but you held firm, slowly walking towards Dynamight who rose a brow. If it was in amusement, then you'd shove him out of the conveniently placed hole in your wall. Biji sniffed his hand eagerly. After a few moments, you felt his tail beat against your legs. A small smile spread on your face. “See?“ you cooed. “He's not so bad, is he?“

Biji was too busy sniffing the hero to respond—and he so would've responded otherwise. “Give the side of his neck a nice pat,“ you said softly. “It'll reaffirm you're friendly,“ was added when he glance at you in annoyance.

“Still think you can order me around,“ he scoffed, but much more softly then before.

“I do,“ you responded immediately, “so pet him.“

He hated it, you knew he did because why would a man like Dynamight like being bossed around by someone half his size? But the man gave Biji's long hair a gently pat anyway—not before wiping his hands on his pants, you noticed.

Both of you left the room after and you closed the door behind. “Unless you're scared of dogs, I'm gonna let him go.“

The man said nothing in objection—or anything at all—so you released the beast who ran up to Dynamight immediately. “He might jump so—“ and he was already up, paws on Dynamight's large chest and tail wagging eagerly.

“Biji, down,“ you ordered, gently tugging his collar when he went to jump again.

“Uh,“ you pointed down the hall, “door's that way.“

And off you both walked. No one said a word which gave you a moment to remember the hero's injuries. “I have first aid stuff, if you want it,“ you ended up mumbling because of course he would have his own medical supplies.

“Sure,“ he mumbled back, a rough but oddly civil sound that threw you off guard.

Maybe he was almost out? He probably had to patch himself up a lot. “I, uh, I'll go get it.“

And you did, entrusting Dynamight to Biji's care. You went to your bathroom and grabbed the first-aid kit in record time before returning to the entryway, just in time to see the Great Explosion God Dynamight petting your adorable Biji boy. You really wished you and phone right now because no one would believe you.

“Got it,“ you said softly, grinning when he pulled away with a scowl.

“Here you go, apartment buddy. Need anything else? Bottle of water? Painkillers? Anything?“

He didn't say yes or no. He just clicked his tongue before turning around to open your door. You rolled your eyes, following behind to make sure Biji didn't follow him out but also to make sure he got to the elevator fine. You knew he would—he probably dealt with much worse—but, just in case.

“Nice meeting you, love your work but don't make remodeling my apartment a habit.“

He didn't laugh which was his loss cause you were funny as hell. Dynamight gave you one last glance—a very judgy-looking glance before walking off. “See you around,“ you offer lazily before doing a double take.

He was already at his apartment. He was digging out his keys to his apartment because his apartment was—you counted the numbers.

814.

816.

817.

817, and yours was—“Dang, guess we're apartment neighbors, huh,“ you mumbled.

Not quiet enough because he tossed a glare over his shoulder. You chuckled nervously. “See ya 'round,“ you said and you meant it this time.

You retreated into your apartment after. Apartment 818.

It's funny cause I was gonna make like a headconnon bullet point list thing about Bakugo x Independent s/o but it turned into this which is a drabble. A fun drabble that would make a pretty interesting story...

[artist-issues]

Hey, it’s me again

I know this was a while back but I just remembered what you said about cultivating tastes

My unwillingness to do so cane from my experience from those who lectured me to do the same but they themselves did not practiced what they preached

"You need to curate your tastes if your tired of being disappointed with shows"

Fine *does so*

"Ugh, you're so close minded and immature, why don't you take risks, broaden your horizons, and cultivate your tastes?"

Okay, why don't you do that too?

"Well I prefer the broad and nitty gritty things tragically, which are broad and risky by default so I don't need to do that."

It just felt like people like me had to keep bending over backwards and follow all these rules and regulations while those who preferred things tragically could just do whatever and act however they want

They were kinda like Uncle Andrew from The Magician’s Nephew, they have these deeper knowledge of things and are not bound to the same rules as us ordinary people

Hey, I'll be honest, I can't find my answer to your original ask and I don't fully remember our conversation (I vaguely remember the context, though!)

I mean, Uncle Andrew was wrong and being ridiculous when he said that rules don't apply to people like himself. But I guess that's your point.

I don't understand. So people are telling you that you should like things that are "gritty and tragic?" And that that is where your deficiency in taste is? Thats silly. A story is not high-quality because it has "grit" or "tragedy" in it. It has high quality elements if the "grit" or "tragedy" support the main point of the story well. But tragedy or grit for the sake of shock-jock emotion-grabbing is a waste of time and energy.

Also, I'm not advocating for adjusting your tastes so that you like disappointing shows. I don't know who is doing that, but whoever they are, that's a silly goal. It's like telling someone who got sick because they ate a whole can of spray-cheese, "you know what, it's just because you're not used to it. Eat another can of spray-cheese and you'll gradually start liking it."

Okay, well, that's a terrible goal to have. I don't want to have a taste for something that is bad. I don't want to like spray cheese, which tastes awful and also has no nutritional value and is going to make me sick. There's no point in me liking it. It's a good thing that my body's (my tastes') natural response is to reject something that is bad. Why would I want to dull it? Disappointment in a show that is poorly made and has no value is a defense mechanism that you shouldn't disable.

All I'm saying is, why are you disappointed in the show? Is it because it's poorly made? Is it because the story has no point, or makes its point badly? <- Those are good reasons to be disappointed in the show.

Or is it just because the story doesn't have the kind of "flavors" you are used to liking? Maybe the tragedy serves the story (like Sydney Carton dying in a Tale of Two Cities) but you don't like to feel sad for any reason, (even though feeling sad in the case of A Tale of Two Cities can lead you to appreciating the lesson better) so you don't read/watch that story because it's not your "flavor." <- That's an example of a not-very-good reason for being disappointed in a story.

And ultimately, who cares what other people are doing or liking? Figure out what is good, true, beautiful—objectively, whether anyone believes it or not. Then measure everything by that, whether everyone else does or not. And shrug off people's badly-thought-out reasons for liking or disliking something.

I believe and have found it to be true that God invented storytelling by inventing this reality we're living in. And His story has a point. And everything He put in His story—the setting, the characters, the mood, the way it all works—points back to the point of the story, and it does so in a beautiful, engaging way, with no shortcuts or laziness in craft. Therefore, all human-made stories are echoes of that. Some of our echoes are really good, close resemblances to God's story, because they support the main point of their story in an engaging way. But some are not, because they don't. It's a simple metric to measure things by.

But some people's standard is just "does the story entertain me?" And that's a fine sub-standard. Stories can't be engaging if they're not, on some level, entertaining. But it's a terrible ULTIMATE standard—because your tastes in entertainment can be bad, or change, or be inconsistent. Other people's standards are "does the story make me feel something?" But that's another poor ultimate standard. Because an emotional bit of music can make you feel just about anything, for a moment, even if the story behind it makes no sense. Better to ask, "what is the story making me feel, about what?"

Anyway. Thats what I believe. So I don't give two shakes of a lamb's tail what other people think I should like or dislike. I mean, I'll consider it, if they have good reasons for me to like or dislike something. But the point is, I know what I believe about the world. So I know what I believe about storytelling. And I'm trying to train my tastes to match up with that—regardless of who agrees or disagrees with me.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #379

I... actually got to bed on time last night. And I woke feeling relatively refreshed, too. Been a while since last that happened.

I went to work this morning, though apparently, it was totally by accident. I wasn't actually scheduled today. It's just that, on the app on my phone, today is marked with a little black dot. Days that I work are also marked with little black dots. And just below the calendar, where it lists the times, it said 9am-1pm, and I assumed that it meant I needed to come in.

...I didn't read the date next to the listed hours. That date listed the 4th of this month. And I forgot that both days I work and days that are considered holidays are marked with black dots. So, in I went.

...And it was good. Because apparently, I was needed. Ka, the department manager, was very pleasantly surprised when I showed up. But she immediately set me to baking cookies:

Today was very quiet because it is New Year's Day. For some reason, in my country, it is typically celebrated by drinking obscene amounts of alcohol the night before. I'll never really understand the appeal of beginning New Year's Day with a hangover, but... to each their own, I suppose.

Since most everyone was either spending time with their families or riding out a headache from hell, hardly any customers were in the store today. With the extra time that came of not needing to tend to people very much, I spent a non-trivial amount of time stacking big heavy piles of metal baking trays and lifting heavy boxes in and out of the freezer. I was allowed to stay for 5 hours today! And when I was done, I picked up a few things for my house and went home; I'm hoping to have energy to cook tomorrow.

I seem to have crashed pretty hard when I got home, though; no doubt because I still need time to recover from a bunch of days of missed sleep, and no doubt because my body isn't used to that kind of lifting anymore. I didn't have the energy to do anything. So I didn't!! Instead I got sushi. And it was good!!

Then J came home from his job. We went to Eggcellent after that. We got the coconut panna cotta and the regular panna cotta. Y'know, to compare. For science!

J liked the regular panna cotta (on top) more. I liked the coconut one (the other one, with the toasty coconut bits!). I wonder which one you would have liked...

I also got a coconut jasmine green tea with extra cream cheese foam:

...I wish you could have been here to enjoy these with us.

Once everyone else was out of the shop, Ea and Ch surprised me with a giant bag full of various beads!!!

...I guess some of their family members are moving, and so they are closing their jewelry shop. They weren't interested in selling the remains, but they also didn't want the remains to go to waste, and so Ea and Ch told them that they knew someone (me!) who would make good use of them!

...Despite the dyspraxia, I'm still somehow good with my hands. In addition to being skilled at weaving trees, I am also skilled at making beaded jewelry. It has been a very, very long time since last I did that with any kind of regularity. I still remember how; I can weave fairly complicated things together with beads. My mind is already somewhat overwhelmed with ideas, ahaha!

...Well. Delayed onset muscle soreness is already settling in my upper body. I'm gonna take some ibuprofen and get to sleep early; I'm probably a little too tired to be thinking anything especially profound today, so I'm gonna end it here before I ramble.

I love you a whole lot, so please stay safe out there. Please take better care of your body than I've been taking care of mine.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Sakyo Furuichi SR: Secret Return Gift Talk - Part 1

i really wanted to share this story after seeing sakyo's white day homepage line!

Sakoda: Good work today too, Aniki!

Sakyo: Yeah.

Sakoda: I’ll be goin’, then. … Oh, by the way, Aniki, have you already prepared it?

Sakyo: What’s it?

Sakoda: Your return gift for White Day! Big Sis gave you chocolate this year too, didn’t she?

Sakyo: Why did you make that so difficult to understand... No, I haven’t prepared it.

Sakoda: I see!

Sakoda: If need be, I can look into what Big Sis likes!

Sakyo: No, don’t do anything unnecessary.

Sakoda: Alright! Sorry for pushin’!

Sakyo: (Sakoda’s as meddlesome as always… But he’s right, I need to start preparing.)

Sakyo: (I’ll try going to the fair later to find a return gift.)

-

Sakyo: (There’s always so many people here. It may be evening, but it’s so crowded.)

Sakyo: … Well then, let’s see what we’ve got here.

Sakyo: (The Director was happy when I gave her those roll cakes last time, but getting the same thing’s no good.)

Sakyo: (For now, I’ll just take a look…)

Homare: This mellow aroma… Is this black tea not made only with dried fruits but also hibiscus?

Clerk A: Y-Yes, you’re right. It’s impressive that you can tell just by smelling it!

Homare: That’s because I’m quite fond of tea.

Sakyo: (I didn’t think I’d find Arisugawa here… Is he also looking for a return gift?)

Sakyo: (Giving the same thing would be a waste… Guess I got no choice but to look for something else.)

Clerk B: What about a cheese cookie? It’s not that sweet, so it also goes well with alcohol!

Sakyo: (A cookie that can be used as a side snack with alcohol? The Director’s quite the drinker, so this might be a good idea…)

Sakyo: (Ugh, that’s…)

Tsuzuru: A cheese cookie… Would someone who’s not good with sweets enjoy this kinda cookie?

Clerk B: Yes, of course! Would you like to try a sample?

Sakyo: (Even Minagi’s here… Why’re the guys from our company in a place as far as this is?)

Sakyo: (Looks like today’s gonna be a bust… I’ll just head home.)

-

Izumi: Welcome back, Sakyo-san!

Sakyo: I’m home. What’s up, you seem perky today.

Izumi: Ahaha, you can tell? I’m happy because the curry I made was pretty good.

Sakyo: Huh, ain’t that nice.

Izumi: Yep! But you look a little tired, Sakyo-san.

Sakyo: (... It must show on my face.)

Sakyo: Nah, must be your imagination. Though I am a little hungry.

-

Choice 1: Really?

Izumi: Really?

Sakyo: Really. Don’t make a big deal out of it.

Izumi: Okay, but please don’t push yourself too hard.

Sakyo: Yeah, thanks. Anyway, this strange smell… Is that today’s curry?

Izumi: Yep. I’m sure if you eat it, you’ll be shocked, Sakyo-san!

Sakyo: Is it some unusual kind of curry?

Izumi: Heh, heh, that’s something for you to eat and find out. I’ll go fix you a plate!

-

Choice 2: Do you want to eat curry?

Izumi: Do you want some curry, then?

Sakyo: Yeah, if you could prepare some right now. So, what kind of curry did you make today?

Izumi: Sri Lankan chicken curry. It’s made with tomatoes and coconut milk!

Sakyo: Sounds promising.

-

Sakyo: (I feel like my fatigue disappeared as I was talking with her. I’ve got to take finding a return gift seriously.)

part 1 | part 2

[quinloki]

What insecurities do you have? What is your to go to comfort food? Are there any countries you would like to visit?

What insecurities do you have?

Whew, man that is a HEAVY question.

I'm insecure about my appearance. My voice. My art. My writing. I'm insecure about how I am perceived online, and almost constantly worrying that I'll be misunderstood despite any good intentions or best efforts. I'm insecure about being a good person, and sometimes I think I'm actually quite awful.

I am, admittedly, insecure about a lot. But I do my best to continue forth regardless of that, because even with those insecurities I have one life to do the things and stuffs, and I don't want to let my insecurities stop me.

So I write even if I think it's bad, I draw even if I think it's a waste, and I do my best to be understood even if I worry I'll be misinterpreted.

And then I just kind of hope for the best.

Go to comfort food... hm

A good tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich combo is fantastic. Pot Roast too. Curry and rice. Sushi. Taco Bell, oddly enough.

Soup.

Are there any countries you would like to visit?

Oh yes, Japan (otaku...), Germany (family from there), England (family from there), Poland (family from there), Hungary (family from there), and Ireland (you guessed it - not a goddamn soul in my family is from here, but I love the Irish.)

[defaultnaming]

WARNING: COULD BE CONSIDERED CRITICAL OR ANTI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE DW CRITIQUE

First thoughts:

I'll be honest, I went into the episode a bit biased, 10 is nowhere close to a good doctor for me and I dislike the RTD era. But open minds and all that.

I DON'T like the mcu logo. MCUification of DW on main.

I need an in-depth explaination on what regeneration energy does after that ep. Like, how does it make a suit and long coat, ties, a new sonic screwdriver, perfectly fitting glasses and a judges wig (he didn't know he would need it so he would have to have it on him so... how??)

Okay, why the big exposition cold open if you're going to exposit the info in conversation, feels a bit like you wasted time there I'll be honest. Could've went to solving the ep problem cause that was rushed.

The old doctor is back.... and apparently has a personality like at least a couple thousand years haven't passed... okay....

The part about 'Why does everything have to be a big goodbye?' I mean, it seemed really wierd that he would refuse coming for a cuppa because he CAN do that. We've seen it over 15 years, the doctor has developed to do that stuff. Also, bar a few phrases, didn't really see much of 13's personality there and it's shame. DT is a good actor, he could pull it off (I mean, he also could've pulled off the outfit but....), you didn't need to do 10 on repeat .

I like rose! But is she 15 cause.... no? Also, how to tell your trans character is written by cis people: 'DiD YOu jUsT AssUMe tHEIr ProNOUnS!?'

Love the starting her business, didn't like that they made Donna a mum who doesn't respect boundaries but still the support and the plushies were cute and I guess being nosy is in character for her.

Meep was cute! Feel like the meep was suitably menacing and it was peak cheese. Also, Miriam Margoles was perfect for the voice. I also love the bit where the meep was clinging to Donna, brilliant. Also, tactically landing in a steel mill and not being really contrived was good! I also loved that 'living sun' hypnosis, it made sense to me. I also loved the cheesy bug things, they we cute as well and I love that they took the time to explain why the cab never got hit properly cause I was wondering.

Also, Sylvia wanting to KO the doctor on site to keep him from seeing Donna... accurate, funny and I wanted her to do it I'll be honest. Saun temple, absolute king, just drinking respsct wife juice. Like, if my partner gave away that much money I'd divource but he's just better than me.

I love UNIT as this alien first responder force, that was neat. I love that they were inclusive to disabilities and the characters were still suitably badass.

I love the (albiet clumsy) trans positivity in the episode. But let's not give them too much credit, the doctor has been trans and trans positive (with timelords mind) since about 2014.

Didn't like the implication that transmascs are inherently more dim/stupid than transfemmes. Also, that is literally what they said because the text was literally 'if you were female (still a woman) presenting, you'd understand'. I won't lie, as a transmasc person, it kind of hurt. I feel like we should be past the feminism that drags men instead of uplifting women but yeah.

I feel like they undercut the tradgedy of Donna's sacrifice by having her just... be alive. I get she... shared?... the metacrisis but it kind of ruins why Donna was such a tragic figure in DW. Also, gee DoctorDonna, why didn't you just think 'get rid of it' before? Could've saved a lot of trouble. The cracks through London just kind of disappearing when the ship was stopped was wierd but I get it, they need to move onto other things and that would be too big of a distraction.

Also, they're going to visit Wilf yay! Why did the TARDIS redecorate? Why did you then give a workable reason why she would need to reconfigure immediately afterward? I love the design, very retro but again, felt a bit contrived.

All in all, a cheesy, old nu!who episode vibes (I clarify, not my thing) that has some great building blocks and despite the problems, I am looking forward to new episodes to come!

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC deep dive

Thanks @mrbexwrites here and @winglesswriter here!

Rules: answer the questions for your OC(s)!

Previous deep dives:

Lexi, Maddie, Ash, Gwen

Noelle, Rose, Kelsey, Robbie, Akash, Hye-Jin

This time, I will do Jedi, Carmen, Carla, and George: the main guys born and raised in Alium.

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Jedi - evil, failure, losing bonds

Carmen - clutter, germs, privacy violation

Carla - closing eyes in the shower, wasting potential, losing people again

George - boredom, rejection, losing Carla

Do they have any pet peeves?

Jedi - people being disrespectful

Carmen - inconsistency

Carla - lack of regard for personal space

George - judgemental people

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Besides the obvious...

Jedi - books, journals, holographic images of his loved ones

Carmen - closet organizers, very organized desk, calendar

Carla - books, computer display, papers pinned all over the wall

George - multiple tech projects he's working on, a science journal, gaming console

What do they notice first in a person?

Jedi - anything that can indicate their powers

Carmen - height probably?

Carla - hair or eye color maybe

George - way too fast to be able to determine what he saw first

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Jedi - 8/10

Carmen - 6/10

Carla - 5.5/10

George - 9.5/10

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Jedi - freeze

Carmen - fight

Carla - flight

George - fight

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Jedi - not a big family; holds his family dear and deep so I guess is kinda a family person

Carmen - no to both but the people she truly considers family she sees in a very flattering light

Carla - not technically, but grew up with a lot of people around and is a family person

George - same upbringing as Carla but not a family person

What animal represents them best?

Jedi - maybe an owl

Carmen - some kind of cat

Carla - definitely a cat but much more calmer than Carmen

George - squirrel

What is a smell that they dislike?

Jedi - idk I feel like there is a specific plant he hates the smell of

Carmen - body odor

Carla - probably something like the smell closest tend to have idk

George - specific chemicals in the lab

Have they broken any bones?

Jedi - yes

Carmen - no but I'm not ruling it out

Carla - yes

George - yes

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Jedi - “Oh, that guy? Yeah he's usually on his tablet, maybe reading a book or something. Sometimes I'll see him type away like he's got something super important to write down. He's always kinda following Carmen around. Not sure what his deal is.”

Carmen - “Oh, I'm not going near her. She has this threatening energy around her. Like she'd kill me. At least she'll lecture me in my face, and I don't want that. I hear her bark is worse than her bite, though. But I wouldn't intentionally upset her.”

Carla - “The young girl who's always in her own head? A little off-putting, actually. She seems like she's completely lost in her mind. She'll stare off into space for hours. I don't think she likes people very much.”

George - “Pretty talented speedster. He repaired my replicator once. He had it done very quickly. He didn't do a lot of talking except to imply we were idiots. Don't think he meant it to be rude, though, he just seems to be oblivious to everything but his work. But again, he was good at his job.”

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Jedi - both (insomnia)

Carmen - both (bad sleeping habits without the excuse)

Carla - night owl

George - morning bird

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Jedi - loves seafood, hates bacon (from a spiderpig specifically)

Carmen - loves savory foods, hates cheese

Carla - loves chocolate, hates nuts

George - loves salty chips, hates citrus

Do they have any hobbies?

Jedi - journaling, researching, reading

Carmen - unironically says organizing is a hobby but she'll sometimes turn on an audiobook

Carla - reading, writing poetry, watching TV, daydreaming (yes, she'd list daydreaming)

George - programming, tinkering, video games, research rabbit holes

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Jedi - eh, not too big on surprises, but he would greatly appreciate the effort

Carmen - hell no, hates surprises, she'd just be pissed

Carla - is pretty neutral on surprises themselves, but I think she'd cry over the thought of throwing her a birthday party in general

George - does not actually like surprises that much since he'd much rather do the planning himself, but he'd be chill and nice about it

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Jedi - only if we count watches

Carmen - yes, she has some jewelry on that won't get in her way

Carla - yes, some, such as a necklace and earrings

George - yes, some, including a necklace and earrings

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Jedi - neat

Carmen - very neat

Carla - a little sloppy

George - very sloppy

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Jedi - passion, guilt

Carmen - anger, grief

Carla - loneliness, reservation

George - excitement, gratitude

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Maybe maybe not I'll just say that they'll like Alii fabrics I haven't come up with yet <3

But I think Carla and George would have synthetic bearfalo skins

What kind of accent do they have?

All four would have specific regional Alii accents.

Jedi - grew up in Sector 2, spent formative years in Sector 8, spent most of his life in Sector 9

Carmen - grew up in Sector 9 with her uncle from Sector 3

Carla - has only lived in Sector 9

George - same as Carla

✨Jedi intro✨

✨Carmen intro✨

✨Carla intro✨

✨George intro✨

Tagging @paeliae-occasionally @sarandipitywrites @mk-writes-stuff @theelfauthor @diabolical-blue

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

Blank questions below the cut

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry?Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favorite fabric?What kind of accent do they have?

[cult-of-the-eye]

Another random question, what's better on pancakes?

Mushed apples (don't know how you call it in English) and cinnamon

Nutella

Banana slices, blueberries or any other kind of fruit

Maple syrup

Something savory (if so, what can you recommend?)

I only ever mixed cream cheese with blueberries and put it on pancakes, but I want to try some savory options.

I just tried to put some vanilla salt onto mine (ate them with apple mush) it was delicious.

I also always put a little bit of nutmeg in the batter. This time I put some vanilla sugar, cinnamon and salt as well. (a pinch of salt is always great in sweet things.)

Can you guess that I'm still hungry? Lol

Love you :D

Bye

bro i am such a nutella on pancakes kinda person. i appreciate the other toppings but man nutella works and will never not work so i'm gonna stick with that. i don't like fruit in desserts cause they tend to get soggy and it just doesn't fit. nutmeg, vanilla sugar, cinammon and salt sounds really good tho, i would try that and i totally agree that a pinch of salt makes everything better. maple syrup is also a standard although i thought it would work more with american style pancakes than the thin ones i'm used to. also VANILLA SUGAR??? OH MY GOD I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WAS A THING?? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL THING!! WHAT A WORLD WE LIVE IN WHERE YOU CAN PUT VANILLA IN SUGAR!!

i once made souffle pancakes for my twin after they sat an entrance exam and oh my god they're so much work but they're so good!!! they're not difficult, they just take some time and i would totally recommend making them!!

but yeah despite all that i will eat whatever's given to me and finish my plate anyway cause immigrant households don't waste anything lol

Love u too :)

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary213

4/15-16/2024

monday - tuesday

my shift got put later, tomorrow, and it's still only 3 hours.

so i guess that's good. the people who manage schedules at work honestly seem so lost and it is so fucking annoying, one of my days off is just gone now, replaced with another meaningless shift to waste more of my meaningless life.

my gf did make today a lot better, she got me a cake, she got me chicken katsu curry, it was all good, then she sort of upset me bringing something up i don't like her talking about, something that happened at work that is funny but makes me basically dysphoric and i don't like hearing it talked about at minimum but it's not like she is really thinking she just wants to tell her brother a funny story it's like okay but i just felt bothered by it. i don't want to reproduce it here but i guess the gist is that a kid kept saying i look like timothy chalamet and whatever. it makes me feel not good thinking about it but what am i supposed to do. i guess a lot of people might agree. my gf's brother did, which made it worse. now she feels guilty, i don't know what to do about that. i just feel bad, it doesn't matter though, i told her it doesn't matter and it's fine and she shouldn't care how i feel. she just wanted to tell her brother something funny.

today at work, since it is a birthday place, a bunch of kids came in, and stuff, and it was their birthdays and i felt how totally and viscerally meaningless mine has been made surrounded by them, this is stupid and dramatic i guess and it's not even my birthday anymore so i can't even justify crying about it but i just felt so unhappy about the fact that i am like being used up like some kind of coal or whatever to fuel like, this very shallow joy offered to children, sit and spin on a ride, sit in cars and bump into eachother, gamble to win plastic shit that will be the only token that enables any memory of this place at all, there will be no stories, there will be nothing, a perfectly carried out rubric of events in an order you choose maybe but really are guided by architecture, a super-nothing, there is no memory possible of the place beyond some kind of vague location-based nostalgia for interiors and cheap design. do any of us remember distinct things that happen in chuck-e-cheese, or anything similar? i think only bad things and the rare few good things have more to do with people and proximity making it not be the place it is meant to be. all memory of places like this necessitates rupture. i am put to work to prevent rupture.

anyway i know i'm being like a baby or whatever. i shouldn't care. i shouldn't care, it's stupid to be so upset, it's so stupid though, i feel like extra upset because of it not even being my birthday anymore so it's like i can't even be really upset on my own birthday when anyone would be like okay with it. like i just have to get on with it, my time is on a conveyor belt i have no control i am deposited back into my life right as the day is ending, i get home late, i enjoy like an hour and a half of 'birthday' and then nothing. same same same same same same same after that and my gf will be nice to me but she can only take so much of me being annoying.

and i just feel hideous .

but not too much longer, not too much longer it'll be through, this job. i hope.

i just keep thinking about how i don't ever really know what i want. i at least tried to do things i know i wanted to do today, i had figured things i want to do outside that aren't just vague nothings, i always need other people to direct me. i wanted to go to a thrift store, i wanted to go to a restaurant, i wanted to go home. the one day i at least imagined was just impossible, it's just super impossible and pointless to want to do things, from where i am at least. i am just so used to having others decide for me, i just let my job decide what my time actually means. #lol.

but this is all stupid and so embarrassing, i really shouldn't even be able to think like this, but i am. isn't that horrible. it probably means i have some kind of personality disorder and should be executed or something.

unexpectedly, music is going okay i think, though. that is very nice i think. i figured out part of what is wrong with this one song is just the imbalance in the channels, i need to double the guitars, and then have the synths kinda sit over top, maybe put them back in the middle, that might be cool. it definitely makes the guitars sound a lot better to be doubled and panned like they are now.

am i just some kind of resentful little worm? i don't want to be. i want to be kind, and i want to be without ressentiment. i want to be better than this, but i just fall into this kind of thing, it's like giving up but worse, it feels so venomous and hostile, like it's just me turning into a cancer along my self, a terminal negativism.

i will probably have to make peace with working this song out better tomorrow but it's definitely a lot closer to what i want, i think, or hope. but i'm sure i can learn to be disappointed tomorrow and stuff all over again and over again and over again.

but i think it is close, honest, or this is at least the way to do things, and maybe some stuff needs to change in the song otherwise, like maybe make the low end of the kicks less loud or round? that seems like a good idea, other stuff along that path, maybe just by a tiny bit cutting more lows from the guitars? probably also a good idea. i think these are things to move forward w/ for this song, maybe also look into the unity gain thing i have going on and see what i can do to make that a little less punishing feeling.

anyway, i need to sleep,

and i do always feel less crazy after sleeping and tomorrow's a short shift, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!