#I’m gonna die of cuteness overload!!!!! I am so obsessed!!!! this is everything!!!

[letstrywritingmaybe]

Chapter 2: Welcome To Your Life (title taken from the Grouplove song) posted on ao3!

Look at how cute baby CoAi is!!!! @vordark is amazing!!! I AM OBSESSED!!!! 🥹😍🥰 I literally can’t pick a favorite pic cause they’re all so freaking cute 😭😭😭

Also, Happy American Thanksgiving officially! I’m thankful for all of you aboard this ship! <3

[tr4shmouth-tozi3r]

‘I love you, did you know that?’ - richie tozier x reader

requested: yes & im gonna die bc y’all keep requesting the cutest shit and I actually wanna stab myself in the face as I write this shit cause its just so damn cute🥺

summary: Richie constantly found himself not wanting to go home and sometimes his friends had no time for him, but you? You always had time for him. He found himself making routine trips to your house after so long, throwing rocks at your window till you’d open up and let him in. Let the cuddles ensue.

pairing: richie tozier x reader

warning: fluff, swearing.

-

Summer 89’

“y/n!” Richie cupped his hands against his mouth as he whisper-shouted up at your window. You had your window slightly open and he prayed you would hear him, that you weren’t asleep. He needed someone and all his other friends were asleep. He had a feeling you’d be up for some reason. He was right.

He grinned when he saw your shadow bounce off of the wall in view of the window and your head popped out of the window, “Rich? What are you doing here? It’s like midnight.”

“What, I can’t stop by a friend’s house for a visit?”

“Well... you can, but usually it wouldn’t be at midnight.” You giggled at him and rolled your eyes.

“I mean, who cares, you’re up aren’t you?”

You let your eyes study him for a moment and you frowned. He had a scratch on his right cheek and his eyes looked red and puffy, like he’d been crying for hours on end and had just stopped not long before arriving to your house.

“Is it your mom again?” You spoke softly and he tore his eyes from you, letting them dart around and land anywhere but on you.

“Yeah... but who cares? I don’t wanna talk about her. Let me in?” He raised an eyebrow and pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. You smiled warmly and nodded at him. He climbed his way up, which surprised you. The side of your house where your window was always was a pain in the ass to climb, but Richie was stronger than anyone could have pegged him to be. Physically and emotionally.

That was the first of many nights to come over the course of your teenage years. You had grown closer and closer and before you knew it, Richie’s visits became a nightly ritual. And Richie went from the Trashmouth to your Trashmouth.

July 9th, 1992—

12:30am

You jumped at the sudden crack against your window. You barely made it to the window before you saw Richie’s head pop up from the other side and him furiously tapping the glass.

You laughed as you realized he was struggling and you hurriedly opened the window and the screen, letting him fall forward and through the window, “Ouch!” He stood up quickly and shook his disheveled hair back into place and placed his glasses back over his face.

“Next time wait until I come to the window before you start climbing. You know how much of a pain in the ass that shit is to climb.” You smirked at your boyfriend’s eagerness to see you, but it also left you unsettled. It must have been a real bad one tonight...

“I just missed my babydoll too much to wait.” He grinned at you, wrapping you up in his arms and squeezing you so tight you thought you might burst. You laughed and melted into his embrace. He smelled like a menthol camel and your favorite cologne that he wore. He pressed a kiss to your lips eagerly and you tasted the cherry slushee on his tongue. You hummed into his mouth, darting your tongue out and slithering passed his lips. He tangled his tongue with yours, smiling into the kiss.

“You taste good, should have brought me one.” You pouted as you pulled away from his lips and he laughed at you.

“Sorry, babes. Next time, I promise.” He kissed your forehead and found his way over to the bed, gesturing for you to follow. Your nightly visits with Richie became known to your parents. They had caught on after some time and you explained Richie’s situation to them and how he hated being home for a good reason. They understood and left it at that. Soon, once you became a couple the visits turned into sleepovers and your parents still hadn’t protested. Maybe, it was because they hadn’t necessarily caught onto the fact that you and Richie were together now. It was probably better that way for a while, or else you didn’t think there would be anymore sleepovers if they knew.

You followed him to the bed and he pulled you down onto the bed with him, his arms snaking around you and his head resting ontop of yours as you snuggled up to him, “You know, I totally wanna tell my parents we’re together, but then we can’t have sleepovers anymore.” You pouted up at him and he laughed at you, throwing his head back.

“y/n, we’re 16 and we spend almost all of our time together and they totally know I’m obsessed with you. I think they know.” He wiggled his eyebrows in amusement as he finished speaking and you giggled.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. I haven’t confirmed nor denied it, though. Let’s just go with that, assuming they know.” You pursed your lips and shrugged, letting yourself be content with that.

He squeezed you tightly again and let out a sigh, “God, I’m so glad I’m here with you and I don’t have to spend another damn minute in that fucking house.” He mumbled quietly and you frowned into his chest. His mom was a severe alcoholic and took it out on him and his dad? Well, why do you think his mom was an alcoholic? They were the perfect toxic to ruin a beautiful soul like Richie, but he would never let them and that’s what you loved most about your boyfriend. Sure, he masked the pain and bottled things up sometimes, but he never lost sight of who he was and who he wanted to be. He never gave up on being happy and you were certain that was because of you and all of your friends.

“Was it a real bad one tonight?” You asked softly as you eyes searched his for answers. He shrugged and before he gave a verbal answer, your eyes landed on his neck. He had bruises on his neck in the shape of a handprint and saw that you had noticed, so he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. You already knew the answer.

You cuddled up closer to him and he squeezed you a little tighter. You leaned up and placed small and soft, lingering kisses to the bruises on his neck. He smiled into your hair, “God, you’re so fucking perfect, you know? I can’t believe you’re really mine.” He shifted his weight and faced you as you laid down next to each other, faces inches apart.

“Rich, I’m nothing special, no need to butter me up.”

He rolled his eyes at you and huffed, “No, I’m serious. Don’t say that. You’re amazing. If I didn’t have you, what would I have beside the rest of the gang? A shitty home life? Some corny sex jokes? Fuck, I’d have nothing else. And with just you, comes so much. Look, I’m not much of a sap, but you get me all worked up and I malfunction around you all the time and I act funny. I guess it does that to you, huh? Love and all.” He was rambling sweetly and you both froze up when the four letter word fell from his lips. You searched his eyes, waiting for something else to come, but he was nervous and anticipating your response.

He totally didn’t mean to say that. You guys had been dating for a bit, but hadn’t said the L word yet and he said it and you felt like squealing like a little girl and crying happy tears and just having a complete overload of emotions, but you didn’t. Instead, you blinked fast and hard and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Holy shit, you said that.” You smiled after a moment and he relaxed, his face flushed and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Holy shit, yeah I did.” He laughed in embarrassment and then studied your face, “I mean, it’s true. I love you, did you know that?”

“I love you too, Rich.”

He smiled down at you, “Wait until I tell the guys I accidently did it. Eddie’s gonna hate me, he had a whole little plan set up for me to tell you. He said it had to be super romantic and shit.”

Your heart fluttered and you stared at him in awe, “How long have you felt this way?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve loved you since the first night you let me climb through your window back in 89’. Shit, I just... didn’t wanna scare you away. You were there when I needed someone most and I’m so glad it was you. You showed me what it felt like to really care for someone.”

“Richie Tozier, I am so in love with you.” You beamed and your heart soared as you replayed his words over and over again in your head, “You really are a sap for me, huh loverboy?” You teased him and his face turned beet red instantly.

“Hey, shut it toots, now gimme a kiss, damn it.” He put his hand up to your face, running his thumb over your cheek and you leaned forward, kissing him slowly and softly, taking your time. Smiles shown through during the moment as you pulled away from each other. His big brown eyes magnified by his glasses were filled with so much love and you felt truly and utterly happy.

The rest of the night was filled with endless words about anything and everything and the constant exchange of ‘i love yous’ because damn, you just couldn’t get enough of hearing him tell you that.

Richie Tozier found a home in the most unexpected arms. You were the only thing he needed. Nothing else mattered on these nights you spent with Richie. It was just you and him and the rest of your lives together. He loved you all along, and now you knew that.

-

Woah that was so fucking fluffy and oozing w cheese I cant bro

The end was legit so corny but I loveeee itttttt😭 Hope you all liked this one❤️

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Settling in.

Rating: M 

Warnings: Strong Language (little bit) 

Word Count: 2136 

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters. 

Chapter: Two

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie.

I didn’t know apartments downtown could be this cheap. Gina said it was because of the area, the bus stop was right across the street and they made quite a fuss when they rolled around, but I didn’t mind that at all. 

The owner said the contracts were always open indefinitely, and that gave me a leg up at actually settle here if I wanted to continue in her next year. It was half furnished, the only thing missing was the bed and a sofa for the living-kitchen-dinning room area. 

Yes, maybe it was small, but it was very well organized and besides… It’s only me. 

Gina and Sam had helped me with the boxes, and while the job offers came right away, I still had to let the knick knacks out of the boxes. All the while I was letting portraits and college degrees out of the bubble wrap, the door knocked maybe three times. Neighbors came to meet me and to welcome me to the building, leaving me Tupperwares of food. Kelly from 2B makes a mean lasagna. 

The bed was going to take a while to reach home, and for now it was just me and the mattress on the floor, but it made me feel adventurous. The phone took me out of my thoughts, looking at the screen I answered 

“Hey Gina” I said looking at the plain white wall in front of me 

“Hey, I wanted to see how you’re holding up" 

“I think I’m gonna paint the walls” I commented 

“I know a guy that gives me discounts, I’ll give you his number. And by the way, Friday we have a late start, don’t show up at 8" 

Arrive early for work once, shame on me… 

"I got the lesson last time, you’re welcome to join me for a coffee before we start with the Swanson’s shelter." 

"I’ll pass, Marcus and I have our little routine" 

Isn’t that lovely though? That’s what I wanted. "I’ll see you at work then” I said and hung up, still looking at the wall. Maybe teal, or turquoise, if the light hits right, it’ll end up perfect.

Ressler.

“Migrations gave us this” he slid me a copy of a passport “he entered the US with an alias, Kenneth Rathers. After that he took a cab but we lost it in the sea of yellow that is downtown, maybe he switched on the way" 

"Where are we on safe houses or contacts he might have here in DC?” I asked to Bobby. We’ve been chasing Reddington for almost five years now, getting close but never quite there, he always had a route, a contingency plan, a contact, someone who bailed him out. 

“I’ll dig up past reports and the likes, in the meantime you can have your friend at the post office start running facial recognition in the city. We’ll catch him Donnie.” He patted my shoulder and I was left alone, holding the copy of Reddington’s passport. I knew he had this alias, but why didn’t it flag up when it came through the airport? Must’ve been a private flight. 

The post office was a building the bureau acquired, in which I worked along with some other agents and organisms of intelligence with one purpose, find Raymond Reddington. 4th in the FBI’s most wanted list, avoiding the justice for 20 years and counting. I’ve become obsessed with him, and with the idea of catching him, to be the leader of the team who took him down. But for now, I was stuck in square one, like I’ve been every time I miss him. But now there’s no more trips, he’s in DC, my playing field. 

I was walking downtown, and I don’t know why but I figured I could return that girls favor and but her a coffee today, just to get out there more, to stop my head revolving in everything Reddington related. I found her sitting outside, it was a sunny morning but the shadow of a nearby tree casted down on the table, I figures that is the reason why she sits there. 

I bought two coffees and walked to her table, stopping at the same time her fingers stopped pressing the buttons on her laptop. 

“Yeah?” She asked looking at me, probably not recognizing me 

“Figured I return the favor” I said placing the coffee back at the table, she widened her eyes 

“Oh yeah, you’re the guy I bought a coffee the other day, you didn’t have to” she said closing the computer and moving it away “please have a seat” I gave her a little smile and sat down in the chair adjacent to hers 

“I’m Donald” I extended my hand to her, she smiled and took it, shaking it strongly “Ressler" 

"Margaret Water, but please, Maggie” she said rolling her eyes “I’m saving Margaret until I’m the adequate age" 

"So in forty years then” she gave me a smirk 

“Smooth Donald” she took the coffee I gave her and sipped it “I’ll he seventy in forty years, and even then I don’t think I’ll be old enough” she sipped again as I kept a polite smile 

“I heard you’re new in town?” I asked leaning back on the chair, she nodded as she pressed her lips together

“Yeah, I moved three weeks ago, got a job a week ago, I wasn’t going to move in case I didn’t got hired" 

"What kind of job?" 

"I’m an architect” I lifted my eyebrows at her, she didn’t pass for one. 

And you?“ 

"I work at a post office” She stopped the movement of her arm midway and glanced at me, my suit and tie, I hope she doesn’t notice the gun holster, otherwise it might get awkward. 

“I didn’t know public employees dressed so sharply to go to work… At a post office” she mocked, taking her coffee to her lips and taking a sip. Touché. 

“And I didn’t know architects spent so many hours on their hair to have it under a hard-hat filled with cast dust and splinters. I think you’re lying and you’re not the architect but the assistant of one” She clutched her chest and hung her head low 

“My pride” she whispered, then let out a laugh. I like her already. I laughed with her for a bit until she took back her breath. “I’m not that kind of architect" 

"There’s other kinds?" 

"Yeah, the kind I am, catastrophe architects, we are the ones who make the biggest bucks, mainly because there’s not much competition and a lot of demand, specially in DC." 

"Catastrophe architect?" 

"Shelters, panic rooms, safes, hidden passages, bomb shelters or bank vaults…" 

"I see” I said nodding, I knew it was a job that someone did, but I would’ve never figured an architect would do it. 

“It’s a team” she clarified, maybe she noticed the hesitation in my face “I mainly tell people where to put the thing, redirect services and show the final product, then we have security and internal design." 

"Sounds like an interesting enough job, and it sounds like you know a lot" 

 "I have to, yeah” she took another sip “why go dressed like that?” She motioned at me, and my suit. She wasn’t buying it for one second “it’s not like you get much visits now, with the internet and all" 

"There’s still some romantics out there” She knitted her eyebrows in tenderness and looked down at her watch 

“That’s so sweet, if an old man came to me and handed me a written letter to make travel around the world I would die of cuteness overload” She took her laptop and slid it into her backpack. “Unfortunately I have to run now, but it’s been a pleasure Donald” she said taking her now empty cup to throw it away. 

My name slid down her tongue so effortlessly, so genuine, almost as if she liked to say it. Or maybe she had a problem remembering names and had to repeat them often to not forget. 

“Don” I said as I stood up with her “and it’s also been a pleasure”. She gave me a smile 

“I hang out usually at this hour, if you ever want to catch another coffee. Maybe you’ll talk to me about your job next time” I gave her a short nod and a smile as she waved at me goodbye and walked down the walkway, crossing the street to her car. 

My job was almost impossible to talk about, everything I did everyday was classified, so either I keep up with the Post Office charade or tell her my real job, and that is not an option. The only times in which I identify myself and special agent of the FBI is when I’m busting down doors and taking down criminals, or following a lead. Which brings me right back to Reddington, and the leads I don’t have. Not yet at least.

Maggie.

“So I take it you want the whole basement adequated for the shelter” I asked Mr Swanson as I walked around the basement, it was filled the various boxes, groceries, a few forgotten exercise machines. 

“Yes, the whole basement with bedrooms for the kids, just in case we have to spend several days here. Especially comms jammers, I don’t want those pigs to hear me.” he whispered the last part. 

 Yeah, maybe he was a little conspiranoic. But why did I care? What he did with the shelter was not my business. I gave a look to the initial floor plans of the house and agreed to take a look at the files, to ensure something could indeed be done. 

 After that, it was just me and my still insipid and empty apartment. I was sitting in the floor, with a carton of Chinese food in hand, looking at the plain white walls. Sam had some computer programs he installed in my computer to take pictures of the space and paint the walls to see how would it look in the end. Of course it came with other tools to fix the objects and decorate ir, but one step at a time. 

And the first step was the paint. It took me another 2 weeks to decide, and I decided for the teal, especially after Sam showed me how it would end with some splashes of green, new white couches, a new dinning room set. But everytime he changed something I decided for the new thing, and that wasn’t getting me anywhere. If anything I could repaint it but teal it is. It all looked homey, cozy. 

 "Morning” I heard Don salute me as he settled my coffee in front of me and sat down. We had made it a habit to share Friday mornings, and occasionally if we crossed paths in the week, we alternated the payments of our coffee. 

“What do you think about this?” I said turning the computer for him to look. 

“Looks like something out of a magazine" 

“That’s how my place is going to end up looking, hopefully in the not too distant future” I took the coffee and sipped it. “I have to pick up the paint tomorrow and paint the apartment over the weekend, otherwise I won’t have time in the week and I’ll have to stare at the stupid white wall for another 5 days" 

"What time tomorrow?” He asked, I closed the laptop and sighed 

“Early, first thing in the morning" 

"I might be able to help you with that” he said, I closed the backpack and folded my hands in the table giving him a smile 

 "You don’t have to Don. Who’s going to deliver the letters?“ He snorted and shook his head, to which I smiled. 

"It’s closed on the weekends, and I don’t deliver the letters that’s what the postman is for” I nodded and took another sip of my coffee when he took his. 

“That would be very kind of you, all things considered" 

"All things considered?”

“You don’t know me and are willing to spend you weekend carrying heavy cans of paint" 

 "I’ll help with the painting itself" 

"Absolutely not” I completely refuse to have him spend his day inhaling paint fumes. 

“That’s not up to you, I’ll pick you at 8:30” He was ending the conversation, knowing that I had to head to the office. I hung my backpack on my shoulder and extended my hand to touch his forearm. I don’t think he was expecting that gesture, maybe I was being too forward. 

“Thanks Don” I said with a smile 

“No problem Maggie” he gave me his short characteristic nod and I smiled more. Lifting myself up from the chair I waved him goodbye and headed back to my car.

[hannahedoyle]

Day 277

Ahead of the pop-culture digest, I wanted to devote a separate post to this article because I was so captivated by it.

It’s written by one of my favorite writers, Taffy Brodesser-Akner. I first came upon her work via GQ, where she wrote celebrity profiles. She’s now at NYT magazine doing the same. Her stories are compelling, comprehensive, and memorable--something hard to achieve in this age of content overload and short attention spans.

And while all her articles get talked about on twitter, my timeline (made up of mostly media writers and editors) was ablaze. I think it’s the closest thing to virality an article can achieve. But then again, I’m not sure how to measure the popularity of a story nowadays besides twitter and word of mouth. And my twitter is niche. However, based on the number of comments and follow up tweet from Taffy regarding the story’s performance, I think it broke through the media-employed bubble. 

Finally, the good stuff: Taffy profiles Gwyneth Paltrow and her controversial brand, Goop.

Taffy perfectly executes a writing golden rule: show, don’t tell. She doesn’t say Goop over-promises the wellness benefits of unverified ingredients--she shows it. She doesn’t say Gwenyth is herself the definition of unattainable; she shows it. The way Taffy weaves her internal thoughts and narrative is seamless and illustrates a point--that the Goop lifestyle isn’t for everyone. She doesn’t try to justify Gwenyth’s health practices or try to get the reader to understand, “she let bees sting her because I don’t know why”. Taffy acknowledges what we’re thinking: it’s bull. Going into it, I thought this article may convince me to like or dislike Goop more than I did before, but I left just the same. However, it did make me think more deeply about what Goop is actually doing in the culture and what it stands for. It’s easy to dismiss Goop. But, like most bad things, there is a sliver of truth. I agree that health should be looked at holistically and that western medicine doesn’t always explain the causes for things happening in our bodies. I believe in the “mind-body” connection; that your thoughts can affect your stomach, and other things. I believe that meditation is good. I also think the clothes on Goop.com are Dang Cute and I want all of them. However, I don’t believe that wellness belongs to a class or has a price tag. And I think that it’s easy to over-obsess about the details on if something is free range or organic when really it’s more simple than that to be healthy. 

As far as Gwyneth herself, I was happy to see that Taffy spoke of her in a relatively neutral light. I didn’t get the sense that she liked or disliked her. However, after seeing an interview of Taffy discussing the article, she mentioned an interaction with Paltrow that I think encapsulates what makes people frustrated by her--Taffy said that if she could afford to drive to Tracy Anderson and take her class everyday she’d have a body like that too. Then Gwyneth said “no, I do the videos”--basically robbing Taffy of her excuse. Gwyneth claims that everything she has is through hard work and discipline. I find that both hard and easy to believe. I think we do have a choice in how we see the world and our attitude, but we largely don’t have control over our circumstances. Even if Gwyneth’s right, what good is it if the person who hears her is hurt? Truth without love is pointless and vice versa.

Anyways, enough philosophizing about Goop and the wellness industry I love with my whole heart. Truthfully, I miss being a part of it while working at Shape. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with aspiring as long as we know that it won’t fulfill us. It can help, but it won’t make us whole. I don’t believe in “leveling-up”--our best will always be dirty rags. And nothing is new under the sun. Everything is meaningless--Ecclesiastes, etc. etc. We’re all gonna die, whether a jade egg’s been in our privates or whether we’ve smoked a pack a day. And despite with Taffy says about Gwyneth’s perfect life, it’s far from perfect. She’s just like us all, and isn’t that a beautiful thing?

What I loved most about the article was that Taffy captured the nuances of Gwyneth and the brand, both of which would be easy to flatten and make fun of. She pulled off both empathy and criticism. The transitions, words, and flow of the story was flawless--I hope I can write as well someday. I am curious though about the in-line related link to another story about Goop. The “[Read on Goop and Conde Nast teaming up for a magazine]” Was that Taffy’s idea? An editorial choice? It seemed to fall in an odd place in the article as well, where Gwyneth is cooking dinner. OK now: if you want to read some great writing, check it out already!