#I thought mom and dad might need a day or two to themselves :’)

[tulipsimss]

Caroline is here to help!

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Miguel ohara x spiderwoman/single mom reader, where she brings her baby to work at the spider society

Ooooh yes yes yes. I thrive on dad!Miguel so this is amazing.

Miguel x Spider-Woman W/ a Baby

CW: Fluff, dad!Miguel, reader has a baby, Mig is a little tough at first but don’t worry… slight angst cuz of Gabi

I had to ask my mom some stuff cuz… I don’t know shit about babies… also I might have projected a little towards the end don’t mind me…

Part two

It’s not uncommon for spider-people to bring their children to the spider society. Hell, that’s what the day passes are for. Peter B started the trend with Mayday, and after that many spiders wanted to bring their little ones too.

Today you were no different, deciding to bring your baby girl, Alice, to the society. You knew of all places in the multiverse she’d be the safest here. A few folks were surprised to see you with the baby, some cooing and saying she’s adorable, but most kept to themselves.

You headed to the boss’s office, grabbing a coffee from the cafeteria along the way. You needed to make sure you weren’t assigned any missions today. As you walked in, Miguel turned to you to see what you needed, a familiar frown settling on his face when he saw your baby.

He had never liked all the spider people bringing their children. I mean, who would after what he’s been through. Peter seemed to love torturing him with Mayday constantly, but Miguel would never admit it hurt. You noticed the look and chose to keep some distance.

After a few seconds you spoke. “Hey, Miguel, I was just popping in to ask if I have any missions today?”

“Actually…” He turns to one of his screens. “You just got one. In an hour.”

“What? I can’t do a mission today, I have my daughter with me.”

“That’s not my problem.” Miguel doesn’t turn to look at you again. You huff and look around the room while debating what you should do, Alice cooing a little and looking around the unfamiliar room as well.

“Maybe… you could watch her?”

Miguel groaned a little. “Me? Why me?”

“Well I trust you’d keep her safe, boss. And she seems to like you.” You gesture to Alice making the cutest grabby hands at the big scary man. That makes Miguel’s hard outer shell crumble a little, images of his daughter flashing in his mind.

“Hm… how long…?”

“However long the mission is.” You smiled.

Miguel sighed. “Fine… fine… leave her with me…” He lowered his platform more and got down, holding his arms out to take the baby. You carefully handed off the baby to him, and he holds her expertly. He knew what he was doing.

You smiled up at him, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Thank you so much, Miguel.” Alice giggled and cooed at Miguel, waving her little hands at him. All he did was nod to you as a response, his eyes on the baby. You give her a gentle kiss to the forehead before heading off to get ready for your mission.

———

After the mission

———

You returned from your surprisingly easy mission, heading straight for Miguel’s office to retrieve your baby. When you walk in you see Miguel on his platform, holding Alice against his shoulder. He’s gently bouncing her and singing in Spanish, lulling her to sleep. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Miguel notices you and placed a finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet. Once the baby was asleep he spoke in a very quiet whisper.

“You we’re gone longer than I thought you’d be, y/n. Run into any trouble?”

You shook your head no. “The mission was pretty easy, surprisingly.”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to Alice’s mami.” His eyes were still on your baby, hand on her back as he continued to gently rock and bounce her as she slept so peacefully.

You look up at Miguel. “You make a lovely dad.” He froze for a moment and looked at you.

“Really…?” Is all he said. Your smile grew and you nodded. The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, and for the first time since you’ve known him, Miguel smiled. A real genuine smile.

You swing up to his platform and place a gentle hand on his free shoulder. He glanced at your hand, a little confused by the gesture. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks, and you could tell you finally cracked through those walls he had put up.

“I’m sure her father wouldn’t enjoy this.” He tried to pull away from you, tried to put his walls back up.

You shook your head again. “Her father isn’t in the picture…”

“Really? What kind of father would abandon his daughter?” His red eyes almost seem to glow as anger fills him. He couldn’t imagine a dad causing harm, mentally or otherwise, to his own child. The thought made him sick, made him want to hunt down your ex and-

“Hey.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll have you…” You gave him a gentle smile. Miguel was surprised at that, but it made him happy. He loved the idea of being in Alice’s life more, of being a father figure to her.

“Would you… perhaps like to get dinner later?” Miguel looked into your eyes, and you could see the anger dissipating, being replaced with love.

“I’d love that.” You lean up and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

[sodapopboy]

darry and sodapop being two different examples of ‘ideal masculinity’ is something ponyboy loves (to idolize / model after) and hates (to envy / resent)

for example, soda is literally such an attractive person that people genuinely thought he was a soc at a first glance. this leads me to believing he was honestly kinda popular when he was still in school, despite his status as a greaser. ponyboy admires that— admires his character and definitely tried to style his hair like he did multiple times

i have a firm belief that maybe when pony & soda were in middle school, a girl that ponyboy liked kinda got close to him just to be in any vicinity with soda. he didn’t find out until she heard her talking about it with her friends and went home and crieddd. thankfully soda set the record straight and cut her off immediately

(tbh i can kinda see this happening with steve too. but that’s for another post😛)

ponyboy definitely did envy soda a little when he was younger— but it was superficial in the end. with brothers who have reputations like soda’s and darry, it’s a lot to live up to— i believe soda can relate to that, though.

when he got to high school, his teachers were expecting a mini darrel curtis. when they got sodapop curtis, a boy who was more interested in talking or moving around rather than learning.. it was underwhelming (FOR THEM!!! HES PERFECT THE WAY HE IS.) to say the least.

anyway, ponyboy curtis definitely goes to soda for help with girls (or boys) whenever he miraculously gets asked out to the drive-in, or needs help when one of his friends has a disagreement with him.

darry isn’t as ‘soft’ as soda is. he ‘doesn’t understand anything that’s not plain, hard fact’ and focuses on getting stuff done instead of sitting in his emotions for a moment longer than he needs to. ponyboy admires that about darry, not just his physical— but mental strength, having to bear the burden of raising two children despite being a child himself, and having the roles of pseudo-mom, pseudo-dad and older brother.

however, he definitely resents darry in the way that he can never really sympathize with pony until after the events of the book. as darry grows into a more guardian-like figure for the two, he sees pony’s sensitivity and naivety as weaknesses.

there’s always been a stark difference between the two— ponyboy has always had his head in a book, his hands littered with papercuts, and darry always had a football in his vicinity, his hands red from how hard he’d grip the rubber.

darry sees ponyboy’s way of living day-to-day as taking advantage of the things his brothers work to provide for him when he comes home late, making soda and himself worry themselves something awful, or when ponyboy might get a comment in his report card that he’s a good kid, but is always in his own head during class. he isn’t afraid to voice that, either.

and in response, ponyboy resents him. he downright sees his oldest brother as incapable of empathy and portraying him as such in the beginning of his theme.

in the end, ponyboy’s envy over soda’s natural pull over literally anyone melts into fondness— something to adore, even. he doesn’t mind it when soda approaches someone who just bothered his baby brother with the sweetest smile on his face before telling them off in the most vile way possible. just like how he accepts that darry had to be hardened at a young age to make sure that three of them could survive together. it isn’t a fact that he likes, but he accepts it. it isn’t unnoticed by the gang that ponyboy is the only person besides soda that can make darry soften like room temperature butter, either.

[amymbona]

What if Dilf!Art was put into the ballet instructor au?? Like After the tennis match that Art and Patrick had, that hugged confirmed a friendship again. Of course Art and Patrick retired, tired of the pressure tennis put on them, the pressure of being with Tashi. So Art and Patrick remained close friends, living close to each other, having their daughters be friends. When Patrick put Eleanor into ballet classes Art thought it would be good for Lily to something different than her dad and mom did. So both of the girls had ballet classes, being in the class, being taught by the same lovely ballet teacher. Now Patrick was the one who absolutely fell in love with her first, if we’re doing timelines. He talked about her to Art, and he really didn’t think anything of it, because he didn’t pay much attention, not when he would go picking up his happy daughter with her arms interlocked with Eleanor’s as they skipped towards him and Patrick. But when the ballet teacher spoke softly to Art about Lily’s improvements in ballet he immediately understood Patrick’s obsession. She was so soft and caring, so youthful, it was something Art definitely needed throughout his life. Art thought the same things Patrick did, that she was the one who could probably take away all of his problems, all of those days he’d eat such bland food for his tennis diet, pushing himself so he could make Tashi proud, doing anything for Tashi but nothing was ever enough, she wanted good tennis and he wanted love. (IM SORRY, I WANT BOTH MEN)

Okay so this is actually fucking insane 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

You don't even notice their growing affection towards you, especially Art's. You've known Patrick for quite a while and so you're used to him being, how to say it... friendly. Really fucking friendly. Subtly touching you, complimenting the way you treat his darling daughter and make sure she gets to develop her talent.

And poor Art is feeling completely distressed, as if he wasn't capable of even half of whatever Patrick can do. He tries to joke with you and you respond equally as softly, even giggling at some of his silly jokes. He thinks you're an angel, but he's also afraid you like Patrick more. At least you don't make any decisions considering the kids, because you've been treating his Lily as if she was here since the beginning.

Art brings the topic of you once, when the boys are alone, which is the first time that it happens (as Patrick was usually the one to rant about you).

"She's really pretty."

"Who?" Patrick asks without looking up from his phone, probably thinking he's talking about some random celebrity.

"Lily and El's ballet teacher," Art mumbles.

Patrick teases the living hell out of Art that evening. And he makes sure to pay attention to his blonde friend's behaviour the next time they go to pick their girls up from practice. A pleasant discovery is made when Art stutters as he attempts to respond to something your say and his cheeks heat up like two full strawberries. Yeah, he makes fun of it.

But it also gets poor Patrick worried, considering everything that has happened over the last fifteen years... When Art got chosen by Tashi and favored by the whole tennis industry. The cutest one of the two. And considering your own softness and the ethereal aura of your being, he's thinking you might choose Art over him.

Without knowing or ever discussing it, the two friends become jealous of once another, or rather afraid, both of them finding themselves so deeply attached to you. Two confident men who used to be so smug and full of themselves are reduced to worried babies that can't help but feel neglected.

Luckily, their smart girls pick up on their dads' distress. Unaware of the reason, they play detectives and they dump their suspicionw on you. When you're talking with Art and Patrick the next time while the girls are changing in the locker rooms, you bring that topic up.

"The girls told me that you two have been having some issues. They said that you look worried. Is something going on?"

You speak to them like you're an angel sent from the heavens above, they really both want to drop to their knees and cry until you decide to be merciful enough and take them into your arms. The little frown of worry on your face and the crease between your brows are enough to send both of their hearts beating faster.

"Worried?" Patrick asks with a casual chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Do we look worried Art?"

You asshole, Art thinks, shooting his friend a glance. "I- I don't think so. Perhaps we're just getting older. A mid-life crisis, you know."

A giggle from your mouth gets them both to tremble on their feet.

"Okay, okay, I won't pry," you assure them with a nod and that beautiful smile of yours, "But if you feel like talking to someone, don't be afraid to reach out."

You pat both of their shoulders delicately, Art just ends up glancing at you with an open mouth as you move while Patrick has to physically prevent himself from grabbing you and stopping you from walking away.

Later in the evening, when their girls are asleep, they discuss your existence over the phone. Luckily, still on the best friend wavelength, they both come up with the same ideas. Somehow getting you close to them, closer than a normal ballet teacher should be to her students' parents, especially a father. Especially two fathers.

[anadiasmount]

limit - jude bellingham series.

quick sum: shy and innocent uni student by day but a notorious street racer at night, meets now currently best footballer jude bellingham under certain circumstances. what happens when these two are forced to get along, in order for them to get out of trouble? will they sacrifice their careers in order to protect themselves?

wc: 4.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hello! this is a request mixed with an idea i had. this is a small five-part series since I didn’t want to do a large fic. i really hope you enjoy since it’s a enemies to lovers, ‘she fell but he fell harder’, car girl! reader, and jude being somewhat cocky and mean but a huge teddy bear. pls note that i don’t condone any street racing or hectic driving! this series will have mature content so minors DNI 🔞. it will also contain other issues dealing with family domestic issues, mentions of being insecure, etc, but I'll place the warning then :) please enjoy chapter one, and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

“Now class I hate to stress this enough but you have to take exquisite and thorough notes. It will not only guide you but help and take you to the correct path for this course,” said Professor Alto. I felt like rolling my eyes and walking out of the lecture room, but instead, I just turned over and laughed with Marie, who was already staring at me. “He says that every class period, I'm starting to get annoyed because we’ve been taking this class for the past month,” Marie snickers.

“True but in all honesty he does have a point,” I raise my eyebrow and look back at the Professor who was now walking back and forth presenting the slides. “Shut up. We get it you’re smart,” Marie groans and pushes my shoulder, taking out some gum and then paying attention forward. “I'm sorry, I would like to run my own business one day, and this is where I have to start first.” This time I push her shoulder, and hear her mutter a ‘Yeah yeah whatever…’

I grabbed my bag and pulled out my notebook, took different coloured pens, and began to write down the slides, using other different coloured pens to write important texts and or highlights. It’s just girly things. We would be here for a while, as this lecture would take up to three hours, so I got comfortable. “What are you wearing tonight?” Marie whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder as she typed away.

“Probably something black,” I shrugged, “I might wear this new corset top and black jeans since I'm racing tonight.” Marie looked over at me with wide eyes, “But isn't your car still in the shop?”

“No, it got fully fixed two days ago, and tonight I wanna see if the new adjustments are working properly,” I say, taking a sip of water and rubbing my eyes as they feel dry. “Y/n are you sure that’s a good idea though? You just got your car back, and knowing how you race, especially after just getting it back can be dangerous. If something happens, all that work that was done would go to waste,” Marie stresses, and I notice that because she began to talk with her hands.

“I know the risks, trust me. But I need this money for me, my mom, and my little sister. I'm working two double shifts and if I win tonight, I'm set for the next two months. It won’t be an easy race, but at this point what more can I do?” I sigh and rub my temple, a small migraine wanting to form.

It wasn't easy anymore. It became harder when we had to move out of my dad’s place as he began to become a different and mad person. It wasn’t the environment I wanted to be involved in, let alone my mother and sister. It became especially harder when he came and did mass destruction on our property, and tried to hurt us. The night repeatedly lives in my head, the screams, the yelling, the smashing windows, the red and blue lights, it's hard to sleep as any time I close my eyes I just see him.

I always had a great relationship with him. We were close and happy. I grew up wanting to be him, and he always set examples and tried for us. He would do my hair, teach me how to cook his chocolate chip cookies, and even go on to show me how to play the piano. We spent every weekend working in his mechanic shop, working on dear old Darla for one day to be driven by me. The old black Ford was now ruined into pieces when he went crazy after discovering he would be arrested.

What changed in him to become that way, was the question I kept repeating over and over again. If the truth comes out one day, maybe we can be at peace. But for now, it's being cautious and assuring the safety of my family. I sacrificed a lot to be able to support us, as well as my mom. The car racing was something I randomly got into, my mom didn't like it, but in a way for me, I escaped reality.

The adrenaline rush. The speed. The rush overtakes my body. The determination to win as the prize in the end holds a lot of possession. Maybe even the idea of it being illegal also took a more motive of why not, as bad as it sounded. I became a hell of a driver, I was the best of the best, and some people took that personally.

The tracks and races became a second home to me. The ability to conduct and take charge of my own was truly an honour. For once, only I listened to myself instead of others. For once I could do something that made me happy, as much as it felt wrong to do. I met people, good and bad, and stayed away from the bad as they reminded me of my dad. A weekend like tonight started at the tracks but indeed by the city in the underground club Sahara.

I saved enough to buy myself a 2014 black Dodge Challenger. Slowly I made work by changing the motor from a V6 to a V8, running to almost 470 horsepower. The rims were also replaced with all black, and I added other features like a loud exhaust and a cold air intake system, just recently. This would’ve never been done if I didn't have Jimmy, an old friend of my dad’s. He never questioned what I did to my car, just wished me ‘good luck, and be careful’.

When my mom found out about my car, she threatened to kick me out. That same night I brought back $1,800 and left them on the table, muttering a quick “This is why I do what I do”. Since then she hasn’t questioned, just used the money for savings, groceries, and bills. I would of course help out, especially on bigger and expensive things, like Uni. Uni was expensive, and I sure as heck was lucky to afford what I could.

My first race was over a year ago, in the older tracks leaving Madrid. It was a secluded area only known to nearby residents, or people like me who raced, or those who went to live life a little. You could expect anyone there. I knew of this place after Marie and her girlfriend Kaia took me. My first race was that same night after a girl got pissed at me for accidentally bumping her shoulder with her boyfriend.

One thing led to another, and then you saw me at the finish line in Marie’s Grey Nissan Altima. That baby could run, period.

Part of me could say I also got addicted to how much money it would bring home. I didn't care if it was clean or dirty money, it met my needs, and I was grateful for it. Multiple people have gone against me but they can’t race like I can. There are tips and tricks to it, whether it is releasing the clutch early or letting the car struggle a bit before making the shift. Slow down or maybe speed up. You learn along the way.

My biggest rivals of them all were Jacey and Jacqueline. They made my life a living hell a week before finals. They insisted and threatened me to race them or else I would be kicked out and can’t ever place my foot on the tracks. They were the best anyone had seen, but I knew what they wanted. They were a part of a malicious gang in the northern part of Spain. If I won, I would be free and they were to never bother me, but if I lost I would do laundering and drug exchange.

I won that night, by some miracle. It turned out Jacey was racing unfairly and it didn't count as he had cheated. They would always go against me, and it became sort of a rival race whenever we did go against each other. Like tonight. Tonight would be a big night, it would be a packed race, and surely every young adult would be there.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re going against Jacqueline tonight? How could you have failed to tell me this?” Marie ran, her back across the wall as I got myself a redbull to survive the rest of the day. We had a 20-minute break, and now we were seated outside waiting to go back in.

“I didn’t know either, Max texted me this just a couple of hours ago,” I said, taking a sip of the energy drink. I pulled out my phone and showed her the message. “Well, I can see why you’re doing this then,” Marie points to the text of the amount of cash I could win. “What did you end up fixing in your car?”

“I did a bit of mostly everything. I added high-flow catalytic converters, high-flow mid pipes, high-flow fuel injectors, high-flow air induction systems, an upgraded header, and upgraded pulleys. Just newer stuff that the new challengers have nowadays,” I say, laughing at Marie's confused face staring back at me. “Well whatever you said, let’s hope it works out.”

“Trust me it will. Because you’ll be in the seat next to me to see” I smirked.

“Bitch no I am not, the fuck?” Marie gives me a puzzled look. I give her a look for using such profanity. I hated it, I didn't like such strong and hateful words, especially those that meant hurting someone's feelings. I never cursed, I just didn't see the fun or thrill of it, which shocked many.

“You are because you lost the bet last week. And Sheila is out of town. So better bring your mask and helmet,” I say, opening my iPad to get some studying done before my business class after this lecture. “Plus when have you ever turned down the opportunity to ride with me? I know you secretly love it,” I wink at her to which he just shakes her head and smirks.

“I'll do it, but only if you wear the black midi skirt I got you. As a matter of fact, I’ll ride with you only if you let me get you ready and get you sexy,” Marie says. I blush profusely and immediately shake my head no. I would rather die than be seen wearing anything more revealing than my boobs. I'm just too shy and not confident for it. I can’t rock outfits like Marie can.

“Funny but no. You know me, I am good with a revealing top and maybe some tight jeans,” I brushed her idea once again, but knowing how she could be, especially when she's a fashion major, it would be hard. “Either deal or no deal. You know you need me in order to race,” she tries to intimidate to which I finally agree. “I will make you the sexiest girl there. Who knows maybe you’ll be lucky and get laid,” she taunts, an evil grin on her lips.

“Marie!”

“Oh quit the act. We know you are shy and innocent, but you become a freak and a total show when you race. I'll see you tonight,” she winks and walks out, completely leaving the lecture.

—/— Jude’s Point of View —/—

After matches came recovery. And after recovery, it was either a day off or prepping for the next match. Luckily I had the gym area to myself, working with a physical trainer on my knee and doing a few exercises that were as much work. I just needed something to preoccupy my mind before I met with my publicist. It's not that I hated him, I just didn't tolerate such a person like him.

I dragged out this meeting as far as possible but knowing how he is, he wouldn't care. After briefly talking with the PT about a few stretches I could do at home, I walked down the cafeteria and met up with Eduardo, who invited lunch for the both of us. We sat down and just talked about the game plays and the upcoming international break.

Lunch went by quickly, now I found myself walking down the small hallway into the office that belonged to my publicist. I resented him even more for working at the training grounds. I would rather be anywhere else but here. I put myself together and walked into the office only for it to be empty. I just take a seat and go on my phone bored. When Jaime does walk in, he hangs up and opens the manilla folder, where stacks of papers are in.

“Jude you have to quit going out so much! Look at all these articles!” Jaime raised his voice and threw the printed papers onto the marble desk. I rolled my eyes and sunk into my chair, my legs naturally spread apart, as my hand came to my temple.

“Real Madrid’s new star boy stars on and off the pitch. Ancelotti’s new golden boy has a record similar to Grealish, could we expect to see the young player get involved in the same stuff? Oh, my favourite, Jude Bellingham is seen leaving the strip club after the place was recently investigated by local authorities!” Jaime read off the articles, leaning forward to slap the side of my head, when he noticed my unfazed look. “Okay, I get it! Shit!”

“No Jude you don’t get it! How many times have I told you this isn't England? You're in Spain. Dealing with both countries who are on your ass to find every single detail of you. They follow you around with a camera because you let them, you give them a reason too. It's already the fans doing it, but the paparazzi, no I won’t let that slide,”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? I’ve done everything you’ve suggested me to do! I can’t stop them, or else I'll end up on the cover the next morning. I can’t just quit my fun, because of them. I deserve to have a nice evening with my friends and family, but they're always there!” I bite back.

Not even my mother keeps tabs on me like this man does. I appreciate Jaime, but it's moments like this where I want to get up and leave and do the opposite of what he tells me to do. He takes his job too seriously and overworks himself way too much. I can’t exactly be the person he wants me to be. I hate being driven around or being forced to be someone I'm not.

“We have no say and do on the paparazzi, you know that. But if you keep doing what you do, I'll have to get you a stricter PR contract, and I can assure you, it will be hell. You choose Jude. One more fuck up and it's the first text you’ll receive the next morning,” Jaime threatened.

“You can’t be serious. Jaime, I can’t be hidden away the entire time! I don’t give a shit about what they think of me! I'm focused on football and my family. I told you to let them be and write what they write!,” I say, standing up and grabbing my training bag to leave. “It's my job to protect your image as a person and footballer, Jude. And it will be like that. If you have such an issue, go ahead and fire me, but we both know what that will do for the both of us…”

“One more fuck up Jude, and you will see.” I scoff and walk out, slamming his door. The office workers jump in their seats, while I mumble out curses and insults towards him. Would he really go that far just to keep his job? Threaten my image for his self-satisfaction? Yes, he would. I sigh and scratch my chin impatiently, trying to come up with a different plan to avoid the PR contract he was talking about. But all I could do was come up with reasons and stuff to piss him off.

The idea of a PR stunt sounded stupid. Sure, I have had my share of scandals but nothing too serious like he dramatises. People just can't seem to stand the idea of no commitment, especially if it involves girls. They also couldn't stand the idea of a footballer wanting to go out and enjoy a night of themselves. Some people can be so unreasonable, like Jaime, I would say what I had to say, and I didn't care for anyone’s feelings especially if I spit out the truth.

“Yo! Hey Jude! What’s up? Looks like you got back from speaking with Carlo,” Eduardo comes up and dabs me up, teasing me for my stressed look. I chuckle, “Nah man. My publicist is pissing me off. Trying to tell me what to do and giving me shit about all these articles.”

“When will they learn,” he comments, his brow nudging to the obvious. “For the moment mine hasn't given me ‘advice’ or ‘warnings’ after our trip to South France.”

“Well lucky you. I just can’t stress about this shit right now. We have the upcoming important games, and I am determined to win. And if I do go out, he shouldn’t be up my ass about it every time,” I groan, taking out my phone and seeing a call from Aurélien. “Tchou, how can I help you?” I joke, referring to when he dealt with his situationship while on our trip to France.

“Ha ha, very funny. What are you up to tonight? We’re free tomorrow.”

“Probably nothing. Just walked out on my publicist, so If you have anything in mind to do, say it,” I put the phone on speaker so Eduardo could hear, and let him know. “Me and the guys were gonna head out the city to go to a car meet, out of Madrid,” he says. I give a look to Eduardo who just shrugs his shoulders not retaining the information.

“A car meet? Those exist here?”

“Yes, dumbass. You’d be surprised but, they're very fun. Although we shouldn't be there, it's the only place where people and paparazzi can’t recognize us. They treat each other and us like royalty, plus who wouldn’t mind some fun?” Aurélien says to us. I hesitate, only because of what just happened inside, but also the idea of it being illegal and caught. “You guys in or not?”

“Count me in.”

Jaime wouldn't know. And if Aurélien is saying we wouldn't be recognized, then why the fuck not? I'm not here to just pose for cameras and play. I'm also a regular person who deserves to live his life the way I want. Part of me thought of how bad this idea could be, but truthfully I didn’t give a shit, I just wanted to piss off Jaime. Aurélien advises us to dress nice since people who attended those car races often thought of them as fashion shows. Which is found myself calling the only girl who could help me out.

“Hey, Sunny? Sorry for the late call, could you help me out with an outfit for tonight? Just don't mention it to Jaime.”

—/— (Your Point of View) —/—

“Ok no- That’s like way too revealing! I couldn't pull that off” I brushed away the shortest skirt she found. “Nuh uh- No way. You're going to wear it, and it's going to be worn with these shoes and lace meshy top,” Marie comes behind me and puts both hangers to my front. “My whole butt is out in this skirt! People are gonna see my-” I waved with my hands to my lower region to which she snickers.

“Either you race or don’t,” Marie says, to which I just squint my eyes together. “Fine! I will at least pick out my jacket!” I pick up the clothes and quickly change into the pieces of clothes she gave me. My makeup was already done, a simple and not too heavy look since I had to wear a mask and helmet underneath while I raced. All I had to do was take my hair out of my rollers and apply some deodorant and jewellery and we could make the drive down.

Marie gasped as I walked out, clapping her hands excitedly as she approached me. “You look so fucking hot, I could make out with you!” Her hands roam and fix my skirt so they pull lower and hang around my hips. I give her a look but she quickly shrugs me. I go to the mirror and tug on both items. “I don't know whether to pull this up or or tug it down,” I say shuffling.

“Hurry! Fix your hair and put your boots on. You have a race to win!”

I pose for a selfie when I see Marie point her phone towards me, my hands on the steering wheel as I pull into the gravel road that heads to the main road to the tracks. Goosebumps raise my skin as I hear the music and loud car exhaust as we pull in. Other cars are doing donuts, which I find silly, or showing off their engines. “Hi Matty, how are ya tonight?” I ask the middle-aged man who sighs and hands me my racer number and time slot. He’s tired of his job, but just like everyone else here, he has his reasons. “Same old same old. I bet money on ya tonight, so you better win against that trashy girl Jacqueline,” he points out, handing me back the cashback after I paid. “Good luck tonight, make us proud!” he winks.

I smile and shift to one as I drive down to the start of the line. The tracks are old and kinda messy. They can shift from gravel to normal roads, which causes some drivers to lose focus. “Nervous for tonight?” Marie asks to which I nervously nod. “I mean it's against Jacqueline, we’ve had our shares in the past and she’s good,” I say.

“Yeah but not as good as you. Keep that in mind. Just think of the money, it will be your motive,” she says. We open the door and step out, I hear commotion and then look up to people cheering for me. I wave and thank them before walking over to our group who’s standing by the starting line. We all hug and chat about the race, which is filled with a lot of rivals going head to head.

I could feel my blood pumping as I watched the two Mustangs take out, their exhaust fumes following. The excitement you face also comes to anticipation as you watch which car will make it first to the end. The yellow Mustang wins by .4 seconds after they race for almost two minutes. I turn to the side when I hear my name being called, “Y/n, when are we gonna race?”

“As soon as you let me see what’s under your hood,” they scoff and walk off. It would've been too easy…

—/— (Jude’s Point of View) ---/—

The black LV suit was perfect for the occasion. Aurélien was right, people do dress as if they were attending fashion shows here. We all decided to go in two cars, making the almost forty-minute drive down to this closed-off restricted area. We followed the guide who led us up to the almost ‘VIP’ area.

The commotion was loud. People were either drinking, making out, or dancing. Or those who wanted to feel lucky, gambled money by playing poker. This truly did feel like a bad idea now, but I couldn't care less now that I was drinking a beer. We had clear and perfect views of the track, I was lucky to attend an F1 show in the past but this? This was completely different.

Fancy or new cars racing, and it was just the beginning. I talked with Eduardo for a good time as I observed the loud car go head to head towards the finish line. Music played loudly, but as Aurélien had said, no one recognized us. We step out and that’s when I notice the black challenger pull in. Two girls step out, but it's the driver who gets my attention. She chews gum and listens with boredom as they explain the rules to her.

My eyes roam down her slim and fit body, and I get a closer look when she quickly puts on her mask and helmet. I find myself not being able to look away, especially after she faces her opponent, ignoring their truce handshake. She’s too confident and now has my full attention.

Her windows are rolled down, her hand on the wheel, and the other is on the gear shift, patiently waiting for the light to turn green. “Who’s that?” I finally speak, completely forgetting I was in mid-conversation with Eduardo. “That’s Y/n in the black challenger. And in the red camaro is Jacqueline. They hate their guts, biggest rivals after Jacqueline's brother cheated on a race. Y/n, she’s the best of the best…” speaks a different guy. “Word on the street is that Jacqueline is involved in a gang, but who knows,” he says.

Y/n pulls out her thumb signalling she’s ready, and then quickly drives off when the light turns green. Just like the guy had said, she was the best of the best, quickly drifting and turning onto the tracks. Her car was faster than the red camaro, and you could tell the determination to win was there. I just waited for it to go the other way.

Soon yelling and commotion started when Jacqueline caught up, and took the lead, Y/n just maintained her speed and control as before. “What is she doing? She’ll lose if she doesn't catch up!” said another guy. I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms, looking back at the two cars on the race track. I didn’t understand how this worked, but it looked like not even I could make those turns, especially at those speeds.

Everyone gasped or oohed when the camaro lost control and failed to do the sharp tight turn correctly, cheering when Y/n went back to the lead and quickly made it to the finish line. We walked down to the starting line where she got out, and put her hands up, and cheered. She took her helmet and mask off, and that's when I truly was drawn to her facial features. “Bro? You’re drooling,” Brahim joked to which I just pushed his shoulder.

The crowd went quiet as the red camero pulled in, an angry Jacqueline and passenger getting off to confront Y/n. “You cheated!” she points at her to which the girl wearing all black just snorted and chuckled, “No babes. You just suck. I won, just like the other times before. Now go whine somewhere else and leave us alone for once.”

Her eyes connected with mine, and it felt like time just slowly flew by. Her lips parted, as she took me in, her hand holding the helmet and now stack of cash. She looked away and shyly smiled towards her friends, them congratulating her. She would nod then and there and only stick with those friends. “I’ll be back. Going to congratulate the winner,” I say and smile at Eduardo who wishes me luck. I don't need luck I'm Jude Bellingham.

I was determined to know more about her. Who she was, and why she raced especially. But before I could introduce myself, a loud bang and glass shattering prevented me from doing so. The last I saw while we ran was Y/n getting into her car and driving away. A loud car pulled near us, the familiar face and eyes locking with mine.

“Hurry! Get in!”

---/--- ( author's note) ---/---

hiiiii! first chapter eeekkkk! I hope you all enjoyed it and didn't think this was too long! I truly enjoyed writing this, and can't wait for you guys to read the rest. I'm also praying this doesn't flop or I'll be really upset... have an amazing day!

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 19/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

                “I’m not calling my restaurant Leonardo’s, that sounds…”

                “Like you have no imagination? Why are you trying to pretend that you have an imagination?”

                “Tartaruga Blu,” Leandro supplies, and his lip is twitching like it’s a joke and Bradley starts laughing.

                “Yeah… The blue turtle. Sure. That works,” Bradley says with a laugh.

                “Wait, why is that funny? It’s actually not a bad name.”

                “Do you know why my nickname is Leonardo?”

                “I… I thought it was because it was close to Leandro?”

                “No. He turn up and eat pizza, Every day. Nothing but pizza. Like hungry teenage American.”

                “It was the cheapest thing on the menu,” Bradley offers, a little embarrassed remembering how he’d pretty much subsisted on one food group for a few weeks.

                “And when you come to us, you are sad. Blue. Now, you are not sad. Much better.”

                “Huh. Okay. Well, tartaruga is easy enough for people to say, and blu conjures up cordon bleu so fine dining is sort of implied. I think we have the name.”

…            …            …

                He wakes up to something buzzing and he groans, shoves his head into the warmth of Jake’s neck but he’s already moving away, reaching for his phone, the source of the buzzing and Bradley makes a dissatisfied grunt and Jake, because he’s an asshole, laughs at him.

                “Clearly not a morning person huh?”

                He grunts again, because working late nights in a kitchen means he usually gets to sleep in. Perk of being the head chef and leaving the early morning prep to sous chefs instead. Jake, annoyingly, seems to somehow be both an early morning person and a bit of a night owl. He hears a sharp intake of breath, forces himself to open his eyes to peer in the half-light at Jake, who is staring at his phone with a broken expression Bradley doesn’t know how to decipher.

                “Shit, my mom is having a good day. I have to go.”

                Then he’s scrambling for clothes and Bradley wants to suggest that he maybe has a shower but he keeps his mouth shut. This is the first he’s heard Jake even mention his mom, but the good day tells him more than Jake probably realizes or meant to tell. Jake seems more happy than sad and Bradley knows it’s only a matter of time before he finds out exactly what might be going on. He still feels a little emotionally drained after pretty much running through his entire life story the day before, not really realizing how sad and tragic it might appear to an outsider. He thinks he's got a good life.

                “Go. I’ll see you later.”

                “Yeah. Shit. I’ll come back and pick you up. Or I’ll let you know if the plans change.”

                “Of course. I’m meeting Rickard at ten. Don’t worry about me.”

…            …            …

                Jake has a system and he sticks to it pretty strictly; he sees his mom as soon as he can after he gets home from being deployed, and then again day he leaves, regardless of what she might be like. Whether she recognizes him or not, he needs to go and visit her no matter how much it hurts. Then he spends every day in between hoping that he gets a message from his dad saying she’s having a good day. He sometimes gets two days while he’s home if he’s lucky, none if he’s not.

                A good day is his mom remembering that she has six kids. A really good day is when she remembers that they’re grown and that some of them may have kids themselves. He doesn’t care what kind of good day it is, because his dad has sent him a message and he’s in his truck and driving to the house with his blood and brain fizzing, getting out of his truck and striding up the path and entering the code for the gate around the garden. His dad is sitting on the porch swing nursing a cup of coffee and Jake takes all the steps in one go, his dad is standing, placing the coffee cup on the ground and holding his arms open.

                “Jake.”

                “Dad, hi.” The hug his father gives him is solid and warm and Jake lets himself savor it, glad that he’s here for this good day, and not somewhere else in the world.

                “Maria and Olivia are already inside.”

                Jake nods, because that makes sense, they both live the closest, also on the farm. Sandra and Amanda will have kids to organize, which he expects Nicola to be the next to arrive. He takes in a deep breath and steels himself for his mom not having any idea who he is, even though he knows it’s unlikely. He steps forward and sees both Maria and Olivia smile at him reassuringly and his stomach unclenches a little. Better than just a good day then.

                “Hey mom…”

                “Jake! Come here and give me a hug. Oh… my baby…”

                He goes and hugs her, something he doesn’t always get when he sees her, not when she has no idea who he is. This soothes some of that though, and she’s staring at him in wonder, like she can’t believe just how big he’s grown.

                “Maria was telling me you’ve got a boyfriend…”

                A flare of annoyance goes through him and he catches it, flashes his annoyed eyes at Maria and she at least grimaces apologetically.

                “Yeah, I do.”

                “Oh I’m so happy to hear that sweetheart. Do you have a photo?”

                For the briefest of moments he thinks about bringing Leo here, introducing him to his mom, but dismisses it just as quickly. He’ll have to explain to Leo exactly what the deal is of course, and he knows it’s only fair but it also feels odd, thinking about sharing this with someone outside of immediate family. Introductions can happen later, although of course Maris has a photo to show her. Creeper.

                It always becomes festive, gathering and celebrating the fact that they’re all there. They take photo after photo. He tries not to cry as his mom holds Lincoln and talks to Amanda about what it was like having six children all running around. He can’t help but think how cruel it is for their mom to be here, alive and physically well, but absent nearly all of the time. Maria and Olivia prepare lunch, leaving and coming back with more food.

                “She’ll be very tired tonight,” his dad remarks, watching as she reads over the end-of-year school reports of Sandra’s kids.

                “Yeah,” Jake agrees, because it’s a pattern now that they’re all familiar with. She has a good day and then she crashes, her brain and body just going into a reset rest-mode and she sleeps for at least twelve hours after good days. She usually starts fading around two or three in the afternoon and they’ll all feel a little emotionally raw for a couple of days.

                “So, I’ll be able to make dinner tonight.”

                Well shit.

…            …            …

                He’s got so much food from Rickard he really hopes Maria won’t be insulted that he’s going to turn up with it all. He’s made the promised chocolate cake, along with a large salad because he’s a little nervous and he has to keep his hands busy.

                “Hi. Sorry for running off so abruptly this morning…”

                “It’s fine. Family is important.”

                “Yeah. It is.”

                “Everything okay?” Bradley asks, despite knowing that it’s not. Jake sucks in a deep breath and then blows it out slowly and Bradley just watches, wants to give Jake the space and time he needs to formulate whatever answer he wants to give him.

                “My mom has early onset dementia. She… it started when I was around ten or eleven, and progressed pretty quickly. My dad looks after her pretty much full time, because he’s the only person she hasn’t forgotten at all. The moved back into the original farmhouse, because my mom remembers it. It’s uh… it’s a lot.”

                Bradley blinks. Blinks again.

                “Holy shit.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So today… when you said she was having a good day…”

                “Today was a very good day. She remembered she had kids and that we were all adults. Good days are just when she remembers she has kids at all…”

                “What a fucking roller coaster of a day. Anything I can do?”

                “No. Well. Could I just get a hug?”

                Bradley doesn’t even have to think, is stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Jake and pulling him into his arms, feels him slump against him almost immediately and he just holds on tighter. It’s nice to just hold him, that in just holding him he’s giving Jake what he needs even if a part of him is already sad that there are going to be times when this is what Jake’s going to need and he won’t be there to give it to him. He’ll find other ways.

                “Plus my dad is now coming to dinner.”

                “Uh. Okay. Should I be worried?”

                “No. My dad’s a softie. Hell, it might actually help keep my sisters in line having him there. Just… it’s going to be a weird dinner maybe.”

                “That’s okay. I can deal with weird.”

TWENTY

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

The boys as pet parents

This is a continuation of this post!

Billy:

He is a cat dad. I will not take any disagreements on this.

I feel like him having a pet kitten would really calm and heal him in a way. He now has this little living thing that needs to be taken care of and needs gentle care and even though he has no idea how to take care of it he either gets his girlfriend to help or he'll go to Max for advice like what does it eat.

I see him becoming a cat dad in two different ways

His girl already had a cat when they got together

If his girl was already a cat mom he would try to bond with the cat to make her happy. At first he acts like he's too cool to pet a cat and because of this the cat and him really bump heads. He would never tell her this but....he hates that damn cat.

The cat is her baby so it sleeps with her, cuddles with her, sits in her lap and she spoils the cat like it's her baby. But dammit Billy is a baby. He might act like he's a huge jackass but he is a baby underneath that act and he gets so jealous of that damn cat. Why can't he be getting cuddles right now?

I see him bonding with the cat when she need him to take care of it for a day or two. Either she get sick and can't really leave bed or she has to go help/see family and she can't bring the cat with her . He is obviously going to agree, not quickly, because he is a good boyfriend for her. (I see him being apart of the trope I hate everyone but you). The cat fights with him for the first few hours but after dinner Billy is sitting on your couch trying to find something to watch when the cat comes and kneads on his lap before sitting down purring. After that night he is best friends with her cat.

He finds an abandoned kitten and couldn't find it in him to leave them alone

If he finds the kitten abandoned he looks around to see if anyone else is around to take the kitten but he realizes there isn't anyone around and he sighs before picking the kitten up. He acts macho but his heart melts when he notices that the little thing fits in the palm of his hand. He doesn't know anything about animals but he knows he can't just leave the poor thing by themselves so he tucks them into his jacket and drives to a store to try and find supplies for his new kitten.

Steve:

He is a dog dad.

He had a lonely childhood. He was left at home a lot growing up and his parents never let him have a pet. They said he didn't "deserve" one.

Robin is the one who gifted him his dog. She could tell how upset he was whenever he had to go home alone and she knew about how twisted his parents were. She found a puppy at the pound and it had the same eyes as Steve so she thought they had to be soulmates.

When I tell you he spoils this dog I mean he S P O I L S this dog. To him this is practice for his little future nuggets so whatever the dog needs he makes sure he has it at the house.

Eddie:

He is a raccoon dad. We all now this. I've written about it before and I will die on this hill.

As @bloodthirstybreedingbunny and I have talked about (many times) he found his raccoon at the back of a random store. He bonds with the poor thing instantly and when he notices that the mom has either passed or abandoned the little guy he takes it home. At first he has no clue on how to take care of the raccoon so he feeds him leftover fast food and they share many tacos until he learns that the raccoon actually has nutritional needs so he begins to go buy what they need to stay healthy and happy. (the raccoon ends up eating better than Eddie does)

Tagging: @emmyshortcake @succubusmunson @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @lofaewrites @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @seatnights @livinnadaydream @eiightysixbaby

[ketaks]

“so, why Atlantis?”

I shared some very quick and informal thoughts a while back on why I hoped enough children grew up with the movie (or are discovering it now) to be influenced by Kida despite her exclusion from the “Disney Princess” brand; or by Milo as an unconventional hero who might remind them of themselves. that post received a couple of standout personal additions from mutuals, so I thought I would share my own “Atlantis story” whether anyone asked for it or not, because it is a bit different. it’s a so-so sample of my writing to lead with and came out schmaltzier than intended; but it’s how my pen happened to hit the paper in the moment and shows pretty clearly my typical romanticism, for better or worse.

I was eight years old on opening day in 2001 and as ecstatic as a little girl could be. my mom and I had taken a day trip to see my dad, who out of the goodness of his heart had agreed to sit through a local children’s entertainer in the afternoon and then a Disney movie in the evening. but in between singing puppets and my difficulty keeping still and responding as expected to questions and social cues, his patience started wearing and my mom slipping into a helpless bystander role. when we got to the theater, I had a gut feeling nobody was in for a fun time.

“two adults, one child for Atlantis,” my dad groaned at the ticket window.

I felt I was sitting between one person having teeth pulled and another smiling for the most awkward photos of her life. my mom was always my animated movie buddy, so her silence especially was deafening. her chuckle at Milo in the boiler room was a pin dropping, and her breath in on Helga’s “ho, ho, ho” was a disquieting hiss.

…alright, my dad finally motioned as the Leviathan tore across the screen.

“they talk so fast, it’s hard for me to understand them. and there aren’t even any songs,” was the most explanation my mom would give. the ride home was long, silent, and pitch-black as I lay across the backseat. I wanted to know what happened to Milo, but the wooziness of shame swirling through me let me know that wanting wasn’t even worth it.

pin trading was at its peak the next year at Disney World, and I was on a mission to fill my new pink lanyard with all my favorite characters before the trip was done. in very little time I found myself gazing up at a cast member wearing a Milo pin, and I shocked myself how quickly I asked her for it. I hoped holding onto it would reassure me that that wonderful story and character would wait for me as long as I needed.

watching the movie in high school felt a bit like the very rare party I was lucky enough to inexplicably find myself. I loved what I saw, but I felt my simply being there was a fluke. I wondered at first why I struggled to enjoy beyond arm’s length, but the damage was still in effect. it only reminded me again what I wished every single day: that my brain had kept developing normally, and all the things my autism either distorted or outright forbid would have happened exactly as they were meant. and since attitudes toward special interests had far to go, what would have fed me soup and covered me in kisses at age six could only visit through the glass at sixteen.

the days of LiveJournal and early Tumblr and Instagram came and went, and “Disney adult” culture went from a trickle to a wave. I attended community college as an English major and met my sister-bestie @scp-113 there on Halloween 2013, she dressed as Violet Parr and I as Minnie Mouse. our Anna and Elsa cosplay just a month later on opening night of Frozen couldn’t have been more fitting. a decade later, she made my dream come true of finally seeing Disney World as an adult, and no planning could have prepared me for the personal growth that trip would inspire. I loved throwing my arms around Mirabel in the Magic Kingdom because of, not despite, the emotional control that had finally taken hold at thirty. I wouldn’t have traded that interaction for the one awaiting the costumed little girl right behind me. that realization shook me to the bone.

“don’t cry because it’s over. smile because it happened,” my dad would tell me countless times since childhood with only the best intentions. “I haven’t been able to stop smiling,” I told him week after week following my trip. falling asleep for months scrolling back through those four special days was the most satisfying thing ever.

then one night, deep within a Magic Kingdom dream like any other, there they were. Milo Thatch and Princess Kida, just as they appeared in the “rare character guide” videos I had watched before the trip many months ago. they were hugging a child who had just run up to meet them: a young girl who looked very familiar. that settles it, I thought. the circle had at last closed.

now about once a week, my darling pup hears, “ready for Atlantis?” or “ready for Milo?” and leaps to my side in bed as I start the movie on my laptop. indeed, it feels exactly like a big warm hug every time. the artistry, the story, the characters, the humor, the heart. Milo is every bit the hero I needed as an uncertain child who loved words and language but hated being different…but he’s the one I got as an adult finding peace with her brain and eager to keep chasing her dreams. I’m writing more original words every day, journaling again, and speaking and thinking more fluidly all because of jotting down random thoughts about this movie and liking how they sounded. I’ve also put aside the idea that the influencer path might bring me joy, and I feel comfortable online again and have met some great folks so far through fan works and discussions from silly to profound.

and so I thank that little voice that whispered for 23 years: “…Atlantis is waiting.”

[icespur]

Akeshu Daughter from the future in Mpreg Akiren During Strikers AU:

Credit to “@iftheworldendsinflames” for bringing up the idea. 

She originally brought up the idea for the “Mpreg Akiren during Strikers” idea, but I could see this working for a couple scenarios, I’ll split them into separate posts.

So, one plot issue with this particular scenario is “Why would Komari be there in the first place?” Since most “from the future” plots, have said person from the future come to the past to warn someone of something, or to fix or prevent something bad from happening themselves. 

For this case, there’s nothing really world endangering or life threatening in Strikers that could be perilous to Komari and her future, so what if she got sent to the past somehow by accident and so her goal is to get back home and she needs the assistance of the Phantom Thieves but at the same time, obviously can’t fully reveal why and who exactly she is as that might rewrite her original reality she’s from, or worse, erase her from existence entirely. 

So, she goes “undercover” in a sense. She keeps her first name, but goes by a different allies off the fly after nearly fucking up her cover—

“I’m Komari Ama—--uh—-Ake—-Ah–ak—ak–a–gi? Yes! Akagi. Komari Akagi, that’s me!” 

Inspired after remembering a Japanese Jazz pianist with that surname. That kanji spelling of  Akagi translates to “Red Castle” which—is unintentionally similar to the meaning of “Amamiya” which means “Rain Palace”. So already she’s made a subtle whoopsie. 

I like to think Akechi would also take his child to the Jazz Jin to keep the tradition and so Komari grew up listening to the Jazz Genre and probably came across the name Akagi by listening to one of his songs. 

Out of panic and memory, she chooses the surname which also translates to something similar to what one of her fathers surname means, it’s too late to pick a different name so all she can do is internally hope and pray they don’t catch on.

She does openly tell the Thieves things about herself if asked or randomly if a subject reminds her of her upbringing, but of course nothing outright

Like, she obviously can’t say: “My Parents are Ren Amamiya and Goro Akechi”. But she brings up in passing “Oh I don’t have a “mom” I have two dads actually.”

“Oh, you’re adopted then?”

“No, one of my dads gave birth to me.”

“...........Wha?” Everyone is puzzled as hell at that response until they remember “Oh wait, we have a pregnant male party member.”

Ryuji jokes that Ren and Komari’s dad should meet one day so they can bond over pregnancy experiences. Komari laughs in response but internally is freaking out because “I’m in deeper shit than I thought. Not only did I go back in time, I got dropped in the year I was born, Ren is my dad, he’s pregnant with me.”

She actively avoids interacting with the newborn version of herself to avoid a paradox. One of the Thieves notices this and asks her why she doesn’t seem to want to be around the baby, and she doesn’t want to come off as rude or heartless so she doesn’t want to use the “Oh, I don’t like children” excuse, so she stammers out an accidental declaration that she has a crippling phobia of babies. 

Out of instinct she’ll slip up in interactions by acting too familiar with the group, or little genetic quirks and mannerisms inherited from her parents will shine through. Most of them go over the Thieves' heads, but Ren silently takes notice and can’t help but be reminded of Akechi in more ways than one. 

Komari inherited Akechi’s eye color and front bangs of his hair. Hair color wise, is from Ren; black and naturally messy.

Black hair and Brown eyes isn’t that uncommon of an appearance in Japan. But Ren knows those eyes, the reddish brown tint of his allegedly deceased rival. It’s probably why he can’t help but smile fondly when talking and looking at her. He hopes his and Akechi’s unborn daughter inherits the same eyes. 

When meeting Morgana in this timeline for the first time, unlike everyone else’s first reaction to him, Komari doesn’t do the “AH WHATTHEHECKATALKINGCAT?!” thing since she grew up with Morgana so already knows about his ordeal, so purely out of natural instinct she treats him with respect and an individual which gives her good points from him off the bat because “Finally, someone that treats me as an equal. Why can’t you be more like Mari-Chan, Ryuji? I like this girl, I say we’re keeping her!” 

She almost slips up by nearly referring to Ryuji, Yuusuke, Ann, Makoto, Haru and Futaba as “Aunt/Uncle”, more times than she’d like to admit. 

Seems to have a personal hatred for politicians. When asked, she explains “My family doesn’t have good experiences with politicians.” 

Has an unconscious habit of referring to people that anger her as “Trash” under her breath.

Wears black gloves that Ren especially takes notice of. He asks her about them and how they remind him of—-someone he really cared for and misses. Afraid that he could be getting suspicious of her, and immediately regretting responding with “Oh, these belonged to one of my dads.” She waves off the similarity with “Black is a common color for gloves, i’m sure it's just a coincidence.” 

Very—-- “enthusiastic” when fighting shadows in the Metaverse. It scares the shit out of most of the Thieves, except Joker, who gets instant “Third Semester Black Mask Akechi” flashbacks, and tears up while watching the strange yet familiar girl massacre the shadows. 

The Thieves say that Komari reminds them of Ren. Much to Ren’s bewilderment because according to him “Me???? Really, I mean if you say so, but I don’t really see it. Is it our hair color? We both have black and messily textured hair.”

Mari-chan inherited Ren’s humor, playfulness, courage and charisma. When she smiles and interacts with the group, it’s genuine. She’s also naturally honest which could explain why she’s making so many unintentional fuck ups by revealing too much information about herself. She most definitely did not inherit Akechi’s acting and ability to put on a false mask in public and it shows. 

I cannot stress enough how the only thing that would save this poor girl from unintentionally causing a paradox is if the Phantom Thieves and Ren are all simultaneously cursed with sharing one braincell. 

She’s trying, she really is. But if the Akechi from her original timeline could see this he’d be facepalming and sighing in disappointment, then in utter defeat calls Ren over to give him a heads up that there’s going to be some drastic changes to their reality because their lovely pride and joy somehow got herself teleported to the past to the year of her birth and is flopping like a fish out of water at mission “Go undercover and befriend the past versions of my family, reveal that I’m from the future but not my exact identity, so they can hopefully help me return to my reality.” Because he just got reminded that she inherited Ren’s intellect and now they and everyone in their reality is fucked.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 21 - Rely

What went before.

How do you prove you are who you say you are?

With a little dose of DINKY EARTH&SKY STORYTIME.

I agonised over the flashback being from Virgil’s POV rather than Scott who is supposed to be the one telling the story… but Virg very much took front and centre (is about time tbh cos it’s HIS story after all and Scotty keeps muscling in). So yeah it might be a jarring shift, hope you’ll forgive me if so and enjoy the mini earth & sky antics anyway xx

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“Prove it.”

“I… what?”

“Prove you’re not Dad just trying to talk me down off the roof again so Scott has to leave without me.”

Scott’s blood was now red ice-slushie and his heart seemed to be struggling to pump it where it was needed. He was going to mess this up. He was going to let his brother down again. Was it even possible to logic him out of this? Probably not. But, now they were here, he had to try. He had to fix whatever it was that had prompted his brother’s fractured psyche to replace him with… a better version? His mind raced.

“Uh… ok. Ok! How about you ask me something Dad wouldn’t know.”

Virgil silently consulted to his left again, his eyebrows raising with a sudden idea. His head snapped back around and his eyes narrowed on Scott before he raised one finger to his own face and slowly drew a short line along the bottom of his jaw towards his chin. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Scott had already unconsciously mimicked the action, tracing the marginally firmer texture of the almost invisible scar he carried there. A slight wash of relief ran through him as he realised he could answer this one very easily but their father could not have.

“Well it certainly wasn’t an argument with a barbed wire fence like we told Mom and Dad…”

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“The math works, Virgil! The lift from the drones will be just enough to support the two of us into a glide then the wings will do the rest.”

Virgil eyed Scott’s pride and joy with a bucketload of awe mixed with a few shovelfuls of suspicion.

The flying machine’s body was the old carbon fibre kayak, consigned to the garage long ago when their attempt to navigate the nearby stream in midsummer left it slightly… holey… in places. The two of them had manhandled it on to the roof via the internal ladder in the middle of the night about three weeks ago. The swarm of eight small tricopter-drones Scott had requested for his birthday were attached (four across the front, one each wing and two to the back) with lots of complicated-looking knots Virgil hadn’t learnt at Rescue Scouts yet but his brother had practised for hours to perfect.

The main event - the wings themselves - were an ingenious combination of fishing poles, some chicken wire fencing Scott had liberated from behind the shed and a patchwork of pieces of an old parachute Mom had stashed away for a rainy (or last minute fancy dress costume) day.

It did look impressive but also maybe a little more… home made… than Virgil had pictured when Scott had explained his Big Idea.

“I’m not sure your math is the same as real life, Scotty…”

“Sure it is! In high school you do real life math - it’s called physics and its all about balancing up forces with down forces. I checked my calculations with my physics teacher last week. She thought it was brilliant. It will work.”

“Did she know you were planning to do it in real life though?”

“Of course not, 11 year olds aren’t meant to be able to fly. It’d cause a fuss.”

“Hmm.” Virgil scratched his head and tried to figure out why the flying machine made him uneasy. It wasn’t just that the stitching of the parachute to the mesh was somewhat wobblier than Virgil had drawn in the neat plan they’d sketched together. nor was it the fact he could see daylight through some of the gashes in the boat.

“Did your sums include using duct tape?” Scotty had for sure used a lot. A lot of a lot.

“It’s really strong. Ever tried to unstick it from something? Impossible! Nothing unsticks what duct tape says should be stuck.”

“Ok.” Virgil’s voice was small because it was being squashed by big feelings. Some excited and proud ones. Quite a lot more scared ones. And some guilty ones.

And some deep misgivings about whatever “physics” was.

Since leaving them to go to High School Scott’s brain had been full of so many clever new things and he was so confident and excited. Virgil felt bad for not trusting him. After all, Scotty always made the crazy ideas work and then his eyes would twinkle with the annoying “told you so”. They always came out ok because Scotty wouldn’t let Virgil get hurt.

His big brother suddenly crouched down to look him in the eye. His eyes were soft behind the sparkle.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re scared Virgie. 11 years olds aren’t supposed to fly so I guess 9 year olds are even more… uh… not supposed to fly. It won’t matter, you could just watch instead and…” he frowned in thought “I would just need a weight about the same as you to strap to the seat behind… so the math still works. Hmm, maybe a rock or something…”

Scott trailed off and looked around them as if expecting to find a ideal Virgil-sized boulder just waiting there on the rooftop. Virgil hoped he wasn’t going to have to help carry one up the ladder.

Except, no. Of course he wasn’t. Scotty wasn’t going flying with a rock. Not while Virgil was around. His brother could always rely on him to always be right there at his side. He gave himself a little shake, put his hands on his hips and pulled what he thought might be a strong, reliable face:

“You need a wingman. That’s gotta be me. It can’t be a rock, that’s just silly!”

Scott beamed with obvious relief. “Alright short stuff, if you’re sure?”

Virgil was developing a talent for deadly glares and directed his best scowl at the lanky beanpole towering over him. His brother just seemed amused rather than appropriately terrified.

“I’m not that short Scott. I’m nearly as tall as Mom.”

“Yeah well Mom’s teeny. Dad calls her his Li’l Lightning Bolt cos…”

“She’s not! She told me we are the normal ones and you and Dad are secretly Sasquatches hiding from the FBI!”

Scott’s chirpy cackle was loud and long and Virgil glowed with pleasure at making him laugh, even if it hadn’t been his own joke originally. Then a little pang of worry hit him.

“Do you think they are alright?”

Scott squeezed his shoulder. “Of course they are, I promise. Baby Gordon just needs a bit of looking after at hospital because he’s even teenier than you...” Virgil gave him his best killer glare “… and Mom and Dad are just keeping him company. She’s alright Virgie.”

“Yeah.” Another squeeze then his brother stood up tall and together they surveyed the view.

Scott checked his new watch then licked his finger and put it up in the air. His very serious and important expression was a bit spoiled by his tongue sticking out to the side as he concentrated on working out the wind direction but Virgil suppressed the giggle. This was Scotty’s big moment.

“Alright, if we are gonna do this it needs to be now. Wind’s good and Grandma and Grandpa will be back with Johnny in about 20 minutes.”

“Aye aye Captain Scott!”

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

[bettsfic]

hi betts!

do you have any advice/thoughts on writing about hoarding? especially, about being the child of hoarders?

with thanks,

from a writer researching the topic for their fic :))

as i am a child of hoarders, i feel uniquely qualified to answer this.

if you were to describe a minimalist's apartment, you would have no choice but to mention what items are in it. those are objects that define the character who lives in that apartment. what things do they choose to keep? a house plant, maybe. a zero gravity chair. a couple candles. a macbook charging on a desk. maybe in your mind's eye you see big windows and pale beiges and ikea furniture.

people in hoarder houses still live in those houses, which means there have to be spaces for that living to happen. one stove burner is cleared off. maybe one kitchen table chair and a small placemat. there's a clear line from a recliner to the television. a path from the recliner to the bedroom, and maybe it's a narrow, difficult path, but a body can fit through it. maybe the bathroom is totally clean but if you open the back door, the garage is completely full. you can't even reach your hand in to feel on the wall for a light switch. and if you could, you couldn't see the light.

so in a minimalist's living space, you describe what's there. in a hoarder's living space, you describe what's not.

a minimalist holds an object and thinks, "i don't need this. i can get rid of it." a hoarder holds an object and thinks, "i don't need this. but i might." hoarding often comes from deep set financial insecurity, the fear that if you get rid of something, you will never be able to obtain it again. those little plastic things that keep the pizza box from crushing the pizza? they make good doll chairs. maybe one day you'll know a little kid who will need a doll chair, and when that happens, you'll be ready.

the child of a hoarder may not grow up with the same financial insecurity, but they do grow up with spatial insecurity, which often lends itself later in life to control issues. it's not as simple as hoarder children growing up to be minimalists (although they might), but hoarder children growing up to be hypervigilant toward objects, their worth, and the space they take up. they may also be hypervigilant of themselves and other peoples' perception of them, and develop an unhealthily high self-monitor. they may become compulsive buyers. they may develop obsessions with a certain type of item of extremely high quality. for example, a child of a hoarder may have a collection of louboutins.

no matter what direction they've taken though, they will have an unhealthy relationship with the ownership and placement of things. at least, they will until they reckon with it.

what follows is a personal anecdote so i'm putting it under a cut.

here's an example from my life:

when i was born, my parents lived in a pretty big house in a terrible part of town. that house was full but not overwhelming. when my sister was about to start school, they decided that they wanted to move to a nicer neighborhood, but all they could afford was a small apartment. and so they brought a house worth of stuff and shoved it in an apartment. my father was a compulsive buyer; my mother is a hoarder. so my dad would buy stuff and my mom wouldn't be able to get rid of it, and neither of them knew how to organize an entire house of stuff in a small apartment.

ten years later, we rented a house out in the country that could fit all our stuff (and oh boy is that a story). but from ages 3 to 13, i lived in a cramped, uncomfortable space.

fast forward twenty years. my sister and i are in our 30s. my sister wears designer clothes, takes spin classes, has a huge apartment and a nice boyfriend and two cats. she works a very high paying job and is also a local celebrity. her apartment is clean. but once when i was catsitting for her, i was looking for something and opened a closet and its contents nearly toppled out onto me. i opened another closet and the same thing happened.

i am the opposite in nearly every way. to list it all out would be very depressing, but let's just say if you were to ask me what my greatest indulgence is, like the fanciest thing i let myself buy, i would tell you orange juice. not even fancy orange juice. just regular generic brand OJ.

my living space is a mess, but it's organized. people are used to organized meaning clean. yes, my things are out and scattered around, but it's only because i haven't put them away. you could point to any object in my room and i could tell you where it belongs. i know where everything is and where everything goes, and cleaning is the process of putting things in the spaces i've already carved for them. my closet is meticulous.

my sister has grown up to become clean and bougie; i've grown up to become messy and frugal. my sister has no problem getting rid of things, but she likes to buy them; i struggle to get rid of things, but i rarely buy them. and i don't think either of us would have come to these extremes if we'd had a tidier living space growing up.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Yeosang swore it wouldn’t be hard to take care of his son, Yujun, and Wooyoung’s son, Hunter… the task proves to be more difficult than he originally thought. Pairing: none (Yeosang x fem!reader at the end) Tropes: parent au Genre: fluff, slice of life Rating: G Warnings: children getting lost, tears Word Count: 1,179 Note: @songmingisthighs this is all your fault again

Baby!Xikers Masterlist

“You promise to be good while I take Junghoon to the doctor?” Wooyoung questions the five-year-old.

“Promise!” Hunter replies, saluting his dad.

Wooyoung gives him a skeptical look before smiling at his younger son. Without a second wasted, he knocks on the front door of the home. Rather loud pattering gets muffled through the door, followed by a very hyper child opening the door.

“Kang Yujun, what did I tell you about answering the door without me?” Yeosang calls after him.

Yujun giggles, “It’s Uncle Woo and Hunter! Not bad people!”

“Debatable,” Yeosang says under his breath, “next time, wait for me, okay?”

He ruffles the boy’s hair. Yujun whines and fixes his hair again, mumbling under his breath that his mom did it this morning already.

“Thanks for watching him again. I’d take him with me, but I cannot handle both him and Junghoon being sick at the same time.” Wooyoung explains.

“It’s nothing. You know these two are practically attached at the hip as it is.”

Hunter pushes past his uncle and grabs Yujun’s wrist, dragging the boy upstairs to begin their shenanigans. Wooyoung huffs and shakes his head.

“How did we manage to both have crazy sons, born the same day at that.”

“Probably a punishment for being your friend.” Yeosang teases.

Wooyoung shoves his shoulder, “Seriously though, you’ll be okay with both of them?”

“Do you think I’m an incapable dad?” The older raises his eyebrow.

“No, not at all… I just know they’re a bit crazier when they’re together.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t lose him.”

It’s about an hour later when you text him asking if he can run over to the mall to buy Minjae, Hongjoong’s son, a birthday present. Explaining that bringing Hunter and Yujun would be fine since they’ll want to help pick out their friend’s gift.

“Boys!” Yeosang calls up the stairs, “You wanna go to the mall and buy Minjae a birthday present?”

There isn’t a verbal response. Instead, there’s a rumble of small feet bolting down the stairs. Yujun and Hunter are panting and already trying to find where their shoes are to be on their way out the door. Yeosang lets out a light chuckle watching the two five-year-olds try to get themselves ready.

“Daddy,” Yujun whines, looking up at him with a pout, “my shoes.”

“Hmm?” Yeosang responds, “I can’t understand you when you whine, Jun.”

Yujun pouts again, “I need help tying my shoes, please.”

“There we go!” Yeosang responds, kneeling down to help his son tie his shoe.

Hunter seems like he’s about to explode with excitement. His little body is bouncing incessantly by the front door. Yeosang had no idea how or when the other boy got his shoes on, but he’s not complaining. Yeosang gently tucks a piece of hair behind his ear before helping the boys put on their jackets, followed by putting his own on.

“Let’s get going then.”

“Daddy, can we go to the toy store?” Yujun enthuses once they’re in the mall.

“Yeah! Can we? Can we, Uncle Yeosang?” Hunter adds on.

“We’re here to get Minjae a present, not to buy toys for ourselves, okay?” Yeosang reminds them.

“Yes, Daddy!” Yujun enthuses, saluting him.

“Can we get candy for ourselves, though?” Hunter asks, eyes already fixated on the colorful store.

Yeosang sighs, “Not today, Hunter. Your dad might kill me if I send you home sugared up.”

Hunter pouts but still follows after his uncle as they trek further toward the toy store. One thing about Yeosang, if he has a goal, he won’t be stopped until it’s completed. Of course, he always is on high alert when his son is with him. Yujun is always very good about being close to him when they go out, though. He’s never had to worry too much about him wandering off. So when he looks to his side and doesn’t see either Yujun or Hunter, his heart drops through his ass. You and his best friend were about to murder him. He immediately starts going back in the way he came from, hoping they just got distracted by one of the seating areas that they passed by. When Hunter is involved though, anything could be happening.

He’s on high alert, trying to hear or see anything that could lead to where his son and nephew could be. He thinks his heart may burst through his chest with how hard it’s beating. All he can think about right now is finding the kids and not letting you or Wooyoung end up behind bars for killing him.

That’s when he hears it. A very familiar cry, one he doesn’t hear too often, but he knows it well. Yujun, it’s Yujun’s cry. Yeosang practically runs through the mall to find Yujun sitting on the floor sobbing while Hunter is completely unbothered beside him. They’re in front of that brightly colored candy store Hunter so desperately wanted to go to on their way to the toy shop.

The moment he’s within reach, Yeosang scoops Yujun up into his arms and holds him as tight as he can. The five-year-old continues to cry but slowly calms down as he breathes in his father’s comforting scent.

“I got you, baby. I’m here.” Yeosang soothes.

“We didn’t mean it.” Yujun sniffles, “H-Hunter saw the candy a-a-an-and we wanted to look at it more.”

“It’s okay, Junnie. I’m right here now. Take deep breaths for me. Calm down.” he soothes more.

“Uncle Yeosang,” Hunter calls, “we won’t tell Daddy and Yujun’s mommy if you buy us candy.” he offers with a wide smile.

“You are your father’s son, huh?”

Hunter giggles, “So? Can we?”

“Can I put you down now, Junnie?” Yeosang asks softly, placing his son down when he nods, “You boys need to pinky promise not to tell Mommy or Hunter’s daddy, okay?”

“Okay!” Hunter agrees, putting his pinky out to Yeosang.

Yeosang links his pinky with Hunter’s smaller one. He then links his pinky with Yujun and places a small kiss on his forehead to further soothe the still sniffly boy. They do end up being able to choose some candy each and also get their friend his birthday present. Hunter was over the moon, managing to get his way. Yujun was a bit more clingy, but Yeosang, of course, expected that after getting lost in such a big place. The entire drive home Yeosang continuously checked on the two children, even after they fell asleep halfway through the ride.

“How was the mall, boys?” you ask with a light chuckle when you hear both kids and your husband walk through the door.

“Uncle Yeosang lost us!” Hunter exclaims.

“I-” you try to formulate your thoughts, “I’m sure he didn’t lose you, Hunter.”

“Mommy,” Yujun says softly, “Daddy did lose us. I think I need cuddles.”

You pick him up and immediately find your way to the couch to comfort your little boy.

“Hi hon-”

“Don’t you ‘hi honey’ me you lost my baby.” you huff.

“Jung Hunter, you promised not to say anything!”

COPYRIGHT FLOWERBOYKUN 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​

Tag List: @sanjoongie​ @jaehunnyy​

[jellyellymusings]

Having a child in the modern world is a decision that is often taken way too lightly.

When I was 21, I made the decision to have a surgical sterilization procedure. Many of my family members were distraught, as you might imagine, but I assured them that it wasn’t a decision I made casually, nor on a whim. I knew this could be life altering, I knew I was very young to be making this choice, and so I did a lot of research, self reflection, and talking it through with my emotional support network. I’d known since I was a teenager that I’d never want to be a mom, but until I began searching for the reasons behind that gut instinct, I hadn’t realized how mammoth a task it really was. Actually, at the time I had to write an essay about this same topic - just for my own sake - in order to grapple with all of the nuances that it came with. There are so many facets to consider when making the choice to be a mom, or to never be one. When doing my initial research, I started out with the practical debate method: figure out the other side’s reasoning. Subsequently, I decided to simply… talk to moms: my mom, my sister, co-workers, friends. New moms, experienced moms, moms who’ve lost their children. Surprisingly, what I found was that most of the time, they had never given much thought to the “why,” they had just done what came naturally. 

My own mom’s story I already knew, and it likely played a big role in my ultimate decision. Both my sister and I, born 10 years apart, were “oopsies.” My dad, to put it lightly, was not the greatest, and being tied to him in such an inextricable way was detrimental to her mental health, and affects her to this day. Hers might be the most tragic of the stories I heard. One coworker, a soccer mommy of three in the most Rae Dunn way, had pictures of her kiddos tacked all over her cubicle. I asked her straight up, “Why did you decide to be a mom?” She told me, “I don’t know, I guess we wanted something cute and cuddly to play with. Like a puppy that talks!” Originally, I had planned to ask more questions, but I quickly changed topics and cut the conversation short after that. I was absolutely dumbstruck at how somebody could be so casual and flippant about the choice to create human life!

The way I see the decision to become a mom, you should be so beyond sure of yourself. And I don’t mean in the, “I’m going to be Super-Octomom and do everything perfect” way. I mean in the, “I have all of the emotional, financial, and spiritual support that is needed to raise a loved, loving human being, without sacrificing myself to do so,” way. I feel that if people stopped and asked themselves hard questions about it, they might think twice. Questions like, “Am I prepared to raise a child with special needs?”, “If I were to suffer personal tragedy, could I continue to give my child the love and support they deserve?”, and “if I bring a child into this world, will they be able to flourish in our future?” It seems that many mothers, if they have the option to ponder their decision at all, shy away from this kind of self-reflection. When my sister announced her third pregnancy, I was aware that her family was already suffering financial hardships. They still live in my dad’s home, often unable to pay the mortgage. I felt so afraid for the future of my soon-to-be nephew, not to mention the well being of my two already-forlorn nieces. Imagine my shock and discomfort at learning that her pregnancy had been planned, and eagerly awaited! They had decided that my youngest niece (14 years her sister’s junior) needed a playmate. As if they are pets to entertain. I’ll refrain from digressing more here, as it’s so close to home, but I’m sure you’re understanding my point. The decision to become a mother is the decision to create a life. To make one half of this decision without any consideration for the consequences on the other is, frankly, selfish and irresponsible. 

While at first I was angry at these moms for their seemingly frivolous attitudes, I’ve realized they aren’t to blame. It is, of course, a matter of cultural and societal expectations. When women are placed in the “baby-makers” box, and this is the most natural process your body can go through, it’s reasonable to not give much thought to it. However, I believe we are evolving, intellectually, past the norms of the naturalistic world. Humans have the cognitive ability to have foresight, consider consequences, and make our own decisions. Modern women now also have medical and technological advancements that make the choice to reject society’s ideas of your future even easier. We are freer than we have ever been in this regard (well… at least we were two years ago.), and I hope that the moms who are simply taking the expected path begin to realize that they have infinite potential.

[apperiti]

source: sohnhj11 on twitter

I'm posting this translation. Please help spread the word about the dangers and horrors of Korean men to the world.

“There was a time when my younger brother, who's just a year younger than me, made me feel so awful that I wanted to die. We were both in middle school at the time, and we were so close that people were even jealous of us. The first time it happened, I was so shocked and didn't know what to do, so I just pretended not to notice. I really regret that. One weekend afternoon, while I was taking a nap and our parents were home, my brother touched me and even tried to film it. I woke up and caught him in the act."

"I was so shocked at the time. I couldn’t think straight at all. Even though he was apologizing and acting like nothing happened, I felt so embarrassed and couldn’t stand even looking at him, so I just sent him away. My mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts.

Did he post it online anywhere?

How many times has this happened?

Who did he send it to?

Did he sell it somewhere?

Did he use it to pleasure himself?

What did he really think of me? "

" I went into a panic, my hands and feet were shaking, and I couldn’t even cry or breathe properly. I never thought my brother would do something like this, especially not my brother."

"My parents went out for a bit, and after about two hours, I thought something was wrong and sent a message to my mom. I asked her not to tell my dad because he really cares about me, and I was so embarrassed. About an hour later, my brother left the house. When my mom came home and asked about it, she said that Dad had called for my brother. So, my concerns were completely ignored,lol"

"Did they say something like 'Your brother needs to talk to Dad'? I was really anxious, worried that Dad might end up hitting him or something serious like that.

But I think it was all just in my head. They came back laughing and chatting like nothing happened. Ugh, at that moment, I really felt like I wanted to die. Damn, it felt like such a nightmare."

"So, my family is usually pretty close and gets along well. We’re financially comfortable and have a good time together. But that evening, my mom had been drinking and ended up hitting my brother a few times. What really got to me was that I heard everything, and then my mom said, “You’re part of the problem too. Who wears such short pajamas at home? I’ve never dealt with something like this before, so I don’t know what to do.”"

"My pajamas back then were just these short-sleeve, short-pants ones that were pretty trendy at the time. Yeah, I guess you could say it was all my fault. I was pretty slim and my chest was a C cup, so it wasn’t exactly small.

But does that really mean it’s okay for something like this to happen?"

"Was it really my fault?

I was just wearing normal pajamas, in my own home, and went to sleep comfortably.

Does that mean it’s my fault? After that day, I couldn’t really live a normal life for about a year.

Even when I was in class at school, or eating a meal, or even at home, and especially when I was showering, those moments, feelings, and sensations were so vivid, and I just wanted to cut myself out of my own body."

"My family? They all seemed to be doing just fine. It was only me who felt like a complete mess, while everyone else acted as if nothing had happened. It felt like they were too afraid to even talk about it.

Later, I had to go on a family trip that was already planned. It was less than a week after the incident, and since it was a trip with my grandparents, I couldn’t say no to my mom’s request.

But that wasn’t the end. Throughout the trip, my parents kept trying to get me and my brother to make up, and they looked like they were having a great time, laughing and enjoying themselves.

Is this what you call making up? It felt like I was the one who had to forgive everything."

"In the end, I reached out to my brother first and we became close again, like nothing ever happened. Everyone around us was praising him, saying things like, "He's such a great brother. You’re so lucky to have him."

Seriously? I once brought up the whole situation in front of the family again. My mom said, "I didn’t realize how far it went. I’m sorry." (But since this was during an argument, it didn’t feel like a genuine apology.)

My dad was like, "How long are you going to keep talking about this? Are you going to bring it up every time you’re in a tough spot?" This was the first time I had mentioned it to my dad since the incident, but he acted like I talk about it every day.

I’m still struggling with it. Even after years, it’s not something I can just forget. What is he trying to do?"

"MY dad called my brother and me ‘fucking assholes,’ and then he couldn't control his own anger and took it out on us.

That day, my parents ended up apologizing to me.

That was about 2 years ago. I’m not sure about other cases, but honestly, I don’t know. If you talk to your parents about sexual abuse within the family and end up in a situation like mine, what I want to say is that no matter what the person who did wrong says, you’ll never find comfort within yourself. Even if they beg for forgiveness, it really doesn’t feel like real forgiveness.

If you’re thinking about reporting it to the police… well, I’m not sure. If your parents are covering up for the criminal and the offender is a minor, the outcome might not be much. Honestly, I even thought that I should've just ended it back then."

"I thought that if I had ended things back then, maybe my family would have finally felt some guilt and blamed my brother more. But, honestly, saying this feels really bad, especially since my family views the whole thing as my fault and even turns their back on me. I just can’t think of a clear solution. The only thing I can do is try to get through it myself.

I still think about that time sometimes. But, honestly, I’m kind of dumb. I still get along with my brother.

Maybe he’s the one who wants to avoid thinking about it the most.

I’m no expert, and even though I’ve experienced family sexual abuse from my brother, I still don’t know how to truly comfort myself or find a real solution."

"Honestly, I wonder if there's even a real solution, haha. But anyway, my family and I are just living like everything’s normal from the outside. I’m still fooling myself with the word "family." And I’m still a minor, so I can’t really cut ties with them..."

[original thread here]

[ruruumin]

1 — CHILDHOOD MEMORIES.

₊˚ ᗢ synopsis; getting over breakups is difficult. after your partner leaves you, you find comfort in your friends. when you least expected it, your childhood friend kazuha pulls you from the darkness.

⤷genres; modern college au, romance, and angst with comfort.

⤷masterlist; here.

A blond boy stares out at the playground with a pout. Still dressed in his childish formal clothes which consisted of a neat dress shirt and ocean-blue shorts, he watches in envy as the other children play tag. Had his parents not gone to a business meeting, he could have worn his bright red sneakers. Instead, he’s wearing uncomfortable shoes that scratch the back of his ankles. He wishes he can take them off and throw them into the nearest pond but he knows better than that. 

So he sits alone on the swings, unable to push himself forward and back. His legs were too short to touch the ground. He puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. He’s upset that he isn’t as tall as his other friend Tomo, who has already grown to the height where he can ride Goofy’s Flight School alone at Disneyland. Granted, the boy might have been older by two years yet that doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous. The blond can only hope that by the end of the week, he can grow a few more inches that will let him ride alone. 

“Don’t you know you need two people for a swingset?” A voice called out. They were high-pitched and squeaky. For a moment, he contemplated ignoring them. It might have just been some mouse talking from his deepest imagination. “Why are you here alone? Where are your friends?” 

He looks up to see you. A child not much older or taller. You had your hands on your hips, an expression of curiosity and disapproval painted across your face. He notes the way your clothes are simple. Shorts and what looks to be a comfy t-shirt with Snoopy blowing a heart-shaped bubble at the front. His so-called royal bloodline might have scoffed at what you were wearing today. But who cares about his bloodline? He certainly doesn’t. So he sulks when he stares at your white sneakers adorning your feet. How he would kill just to wear his regular shoes. 

“I just moved here. My mom and dad are talking to some strangers,” he answers. He wishes they could be here with him right now. They could have been the ones pushing him on the swings. Could have given him better shoes to wear so he could play with the other kids. Rather, one pipsqueak showed up and thought of themselves as clever.

“Oh, so you have no friends?” 

Did your parents ever teach you manners? He huffs to himself. What a rude comment. Of course, he has friends! He has Tomo! The boy who lives half a block away from him. The one that is somehow too busy fighting other kids with wooden toy swords. The weird one that always wears a purple scarf no matter how hot the summer days are. 

“No, I have friends.” The boy snaps, “He’s just not here today.” 

“Still alone?” 

“No!” 

You laugh, clutching onto your stomach as if you’ve heard the funniest thing in the world. He only grits his teeth and rolls his eyes at you. Sure, he was alone. However, he would rather drink pool water than admit that he was out here by himself. He wasn’t alone! You were alone! You and your stupid Snoopy t-shirt and cool white sneakers, you don’t even have anyone next to you! Heck, he hasn’t even seen you around this part of town! If anything, you’re the lonely one!

“What is your name?” You ask, tilting your head to the side as you smile. This time, he notices how genuine it feels. Your lips don’t curve too high like older adults. They aren’t too low either to signify forcefulness. It seemed rather natural, to say the least. 

“Kaedehara Kazuha, but you can just call me Kazuha.” You drop your arms to the side and reach out to him, gesturing a handshake. He eyes it for a moment, seeing small bits of dirt cake the edges of your fingers. With another roll of his eyes, he decides to ignore it. 

As the two of you shake hands, you giggle. “That’s too long of a name.” 

Was his name that long for you? Sure, it might have been a mouthful for Tomo to pronounce but at least he got it right after the first sixteen tries. His father always told him that his name was sacred and that it was something he should feel proud of. Though, could he feel proud when some of his classmates can’t even pronounce it? They always mess up the last few syllables or end up just saying ‘hey you.’ 

He resists the urge to sigh. Sometimes he wishes he had an easier name. Maybe something simpler.

“Are you too lazy to say my name properly?”

Truthfully speaking, it wasn’t that hard to pronounce. You just wanted to mess with him because it seemed fun to toy with what might just be a rich kid on the block. You’ve had harder names to pronounce, like that boy Kunikuzushi, or his annoying sidekick Childe, otherwise known as Tartaglia or even Ajax. 

Kaedehara Kazuha didn’t seem too different. You point at him with a cheeky look, dismissing his look of displeasure, “I’ll just call you Kazu. It’s funny.”

“How is that funny?” 

“It’s like that instrument. The one that makes a honking noise.”

“A…kazoo?” He tries to stifle a laugh. Really? Did you want to name him after some stupid instrument that made the most obnoxious of noises? You were truly an interesting character.

“Yeah! Whatever that is!” 

But he liked it. It was simple. Easy to remember and say. 

[kaylinlmao]

Hey! too shy to use my account but could i have platonic yandere tbp boys with mother figure reader (like the wanda one you did but without powers) if not that’s ok <3 have a great day/night and drink lots of water!

I'm gonna be mixing two requests together because they are very similar.

Request for TBP Boys and Gwen x Adoptive Parent Reader

They present themselves as "pure, sweet, innocent angels," but when Reader isn’t looking, they show their true colors

Reader genuinely has no idea

Preferably yandere TBP Boys

Preferably yandere Gwen

Preferably headcanons

I gotcha! I will not be including Griffin because I hc he already has a great mom.

You worked as a nurse at the hospital and one day, 5 boys were brought in. They were seriously injured, might I add. You were the best nurse at the hospital so you were chosen to take care of the boys.

You didn't mind at all. You thought they were super sweet. They all had wonderful manners, which you very much appreciated seeing as you don't often get thank you's and please's often, being a nurse.

They were all so kind. The morning after they were brought in, there was a shooting downtown so they needed more rooms to put the victims of the shooting in. So your manager told you to move all 5 boys into one room as to empty more space.

Shortly after the shooting, a girl walked in. Maybe 11, 12 years old. She said her name was Gwen and she was Finney's sister. As you led her back to where the boys were, she was very jumpy. You had an abusive childhood so you knew what all the signs were pointing to. You felt bad for the poor girl.

You got off of your shift the next morning. (You worked the night shift) After you got off work, you went home and changed but went back to visit the boys and Gwen. You sat down in a chair by the door and you all talked. For hours. The conversation went to their home lives.

Finney and Gwen told you all about their abusive father. Vance said his mother mistreated him and told him constantly that he would never be enough and that he was just like his dad. Billy's parents left after he got kidnapped. Robin's mom and uncle moved back to Mexico, thinking Robin was dead. And Bruce's mom had come to visit saying that she didn't want him anymore seeing as his swinging arm was damaged and might never be the same.

You felt bad for the poor children. You lived alone in a large house. You made a good 80,000-90,000 dollars a year from working as a nurse. You could raise 6 kids. You dealt with kids everyday. So, you walked out telling them you'd be right back.

You went out into the hall and called your social services friend, Sophie. Sophie said that she could get it all ready. And so, a week later, you were legally the mother of 6 kids.

Little did you know, they had planned all of this. They knew you were all meant to be a family the moment they layed eyes on you. And just because they snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night to take care of their parents didn't mean they were bad people. Billy killed his parents and so did Robin. Finney and Gwen didn't have to do anything. Their dad sealed his fate all on his own. Vance and Bruce blackmailed their mothers into signing the adoption papers.

They got what they wished for. You were apart of their little family now. Forever.

I hope you like it! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin