#I’m grumpy this week and should probably not be posting

[not-available-for-comment]

*tired* I will be the non-radfem to say that you don’t have to wear makeup. The minimum amount of makeup required to be acceptable in polite society is 0. I am nearly 40 years old and I have been wearing 0 makeup for almost all of those years and they still let me run the streets unsupervised. Some of you who don’t believe this need a divorce/to stop talking to your mother so much.

HOWEVER

Makeup is also very fun to put on, it’s a traditional female art form, and if someone *voluntarily decides* they want 22 separate products on their face it’s their goddamn right and calling them brainwashed by the patriarchy is childish at best. Like almost all gendered things it’s a fun hobby and a poor requirement for entry.

Thank you for coming to my rant now get off my lawn

[strawberryforks]

Can you please write something for Tim Bradford where the reader is his rookie? Kind of like a grumpy /sunshine fic?? I just started watching the rookie and I'm literally in love with him😩

reckless smiles

warnings: probably swearing, mentions of DV & guns, other police stuff, nepotism (oops)

a/n: got you anon! hope this works! 🙈🙈 as always, asks are SO open! i’m working on a part two to the other TR fic i posted (per request) and if anyone likes this one there’s another small fic in this little mini series already written that i could post! it’s the call with barnaby <3 anyways, ENJOY!!

Sergeant Grey stands at the front of the briefing room. You’re sitting in the front row (like all rookies do), just happy to be here, beside fellow trainees Nolan, West, and Chen. “Rookies!” booms the sergeant, “today, we’re going to switch things up. Nolan you’re with Lopez, Chen with Bishop, West with me,” your face falls, smile collapsing completely, morphing into something else as you realize who's left to pair up with. Who you’ll be riding with today.

Tim Bradford.

Nolan leans over from his chair. He rests his hand on your shoulder while standing up and moving past you. But first, “You’ll be okay,” he assures—Chen, Bradford’s usual victim, doesn’t say a thing. Instead she shoots you a squashed smile and mouths “good luck,” you know you’ll need it but… but you’ll make the best out of it. Like always.

You steel your expression, trying to wipe away the upset that slipped onto your face momentarily. Despite Tim Bradford being the biggest asshole in the LAPD he’s your superior and you were raised to respect rank… even if you don’t respect the person.

“L/n, you’re with Bradford. Try not to kill each other. You’re good cops, we need you both.”

“She’s a boot. Hardly a cop,” Tim Bradford, asshole extraordinaire, chimes in.

“This batch of rookies is a good one and you know that. L/n is a legacy, top scores in the academy and a record number of arrests for her first year on the force. That’s not easily dismissable.”

Officers began to trickle out of the room, Lopez and Bishop were the first to leave, and then your friends—their rookies, Nolan and Chen, with.

“Feeding me to the wolves, West?” Jackson grins back at you, shrugs, and the door shuts behind him. Even Grey leaves, not wanting to be a part of this. The entire briefing room is empty save from you, Tim Bradford, and Smitty. Smitty, who has his hand inside a miniature bag of popcorn and his feet crossed at the ankles and stacked on top of the desk in front of him. He smacks loudly and Tim shoots him a withering glare. “Fine, fine,” he says, palms raised, “I’ll go. Just uh… tell me how it–”

“Smitty!”

He leaves the briefing room and then you’re left alone.

“Boot,”

“Sir,” you echo.

“I know you’re used to special treatment but that’s not how I work. I’ll be driving,” sure you (with your history) love to be behind the wheel but that’s not a problem, Tim doesn’t let Lucy drive either, it isn’t bias, just how he does things. “You do what I say when I say–none of that reckless idiotic behaviour I hear about from Harper. Just because she has unorthodox methods does not mean you should be copying them. You’re a rookie. Today, my rookie.”

“I don’t expect special treatment. And yes sir.”

Tim crosses his arms across his chest and tilts his head ever so slightly. He can’t figure you out–it frustrates him that he wants to. You’re always smiling and even now, looking at him with as close to a frown as he’s ever seen on your face, there’s something in your eyes. Not happiness but challenge, maybe? Determination. A sparkle that can’t be dimmed. Not with his shouting, not with his Tim-Tests. He almost takes it as a challenge. He almost tries to break you, to interrupt that inability to back down–the one he knows will get you killed.

The next week is awful but every day you show up to work with a smile (sometimes faux–but fake it until you make it and all that) and the drive to do better, to impress him.

You can’t.

At a DV call, the assaulted woman is terrified. Tim, he would leave that detail out, instead focusing on your shortcomings (how he had threatened to give you a blue page, how you sat there and took it: “I’d understand, is all I’m saying. If you need to put that blue page in my file, go ahead. And I know my lack of regret is not making this better for myself but… I’d do it again,”) that when the victim pulled a gun and pointed it at your head, after you arrested her husband, you decided to take away Tim’s shot. She was frantic and angry, losing her absolute mind, but moreover she was scared and when she pointed the gun at you–safety off, finger pulsing over the trigger because all of her was shaking. Tim had her in his crosshairs. You saw this and moved. You moved, knowing she would follow, and putting yourself at risk while making sure she couldn’t be killed. In your eyes, she was still the victim. She did fire her weapon. Into the ceiling, after you knocked the gun away.

Two similar incidents follow. Ones where you put yourself in needless danger.

You’re reckless. Impulsive. He’s seen you speed off duty, seen you sweet-talk the would-be arresting officer, give him your number and drive away scott free. All because of your smile, because of the twinkle in your eyes. The brightness, the innocent glow. Tim has seen you out at the club, drinking your bodyweight in booze, dancing and singing karaoke, and even a Clip Tok video of you soaking wet after diving into a partially frozen lake to rescue a dog. The public went wild over that one–Aaron Thorsen was in frame too, boosting the videos popularity. Tim could recognize the sentiment. It was great how determined you were, how kind you were, and the soft spot you had for animals and people alike but he was there and had hated every second of that terrifying call.

Tim corrects you, you smile and take it, switching your coffee into your other hand, handing the one you bought him over.

Tim shouts at you, that’s fine, you smile and take it.

That’s what you do, what you’ve always done: smile and endure.

“It’s downpouring, good thing our shift is almost over.”

“I’ve always liked the rain. It’s nice,”

“What part of getting rained on is nice, Boot? It’s basically the sky crying.”

“We need rain. If it’s good for plants it can’t be bad for us.”

“I find that logic flawed.”

“You find a lot of logic flawed, sir.”

“What was that?”

You tell him nothing, that you didn’t mean it, and your shift is over. Heading back to the station to grab your things you make your way into the locker room. Lucy’s there, pulling on her jacket and taking out her umbrella. “How do you do it, Luce?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Deal with Tim. He hates me. I try so hard and he just hates me,”

“I don’t think…”

“He does. You know he does. He hates me because of my last name, because he doesn’t think I’m a good cop. Because I smile. I don’t know what to do. No one’s ever hated me for smiling before…”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Just hang in there. We’ve only got a few months left before we’re P2s then Grey’ll let you ride with someone else, I’m sure. Maybe with me–how about it?”

You nod, and give Lucy a small smile. She sees through it, how tired you look, how defeated. She rests her hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got to get going. Jackson’s waiting for me–I said I’d cook tonight.”

“See ya, Luce. Have a goodnight and say ‘hi’ to West for me.”

“Of course.”

Lucy slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the locker room. The door swings open a second time and in walks Tim. He’s silent as he walks over to you. As he mirrors your movements across the small room, grabbing his own things from the cubby space.

Hehearditallhehearditallhehearditall.

You paste a smile on, almost wincing as you slip past him and– “Boo–Y/n.”

Your back faces him and all of you wants to keep it that way. My shift is over–I don’t have to endure, you think, but then you hear your father’s voice. Hear his lessons on respect, on how things should work in the department, how to interact with coworkers, superiors–even the awful ones. You turn to him, you look up, meet his icy blue eyes and repress a shiver. You forget to smile. Your slips stay pressed into a small line as you look at him, realizing that you are too close. You’re too close and you should back up but you can’t. Your breathing heavily, you realize Tim is too. He’s looking down at you with melting eyes. The frost, the coldness, seem to fade away as his hand flys to the back of your neck.

Your tongue darts out, wets your lips, and then his press to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, your body reacting to his touch while your mind hasn’t caught up. TimBradfordiskissingme. MyTOiskissingme. Those thoughts are the only ones that make it through the fog. The questions are satiated by how he’s making you feel. His lips are warm and soft, like his breath, when he pulls away for a moment, eyes boring into your own. “Is this–”

“Yes,” you say. It’s okay. It’ssookay. Betterthanokay.You nod a few times for clarification and one of his large hands lands on the small of your back, pressing you to him, the other moves beside your head as he pushes you against the wall, caging you in.

You’ve never been more okay with being trapped. By him, by his mouth.

His kisses were talking and when they stopped, he was ready to.

Staring down at you with a fast beating heart (no match for the rate your own was thumping in your chest at) he smiled back, for once. It was infectious. A grin split your face and you felt blissful, for a moment. Like you and Tim were the only two in the world, like nothing else mattered, like you were floating in a bubble, transcending your problems and surroundings.

It was a nice bubble, “I don’t hate you.”

Until he popped it. Until he reminded you of what had just happened, of what led to this and the conversation you had with Lucy–the one he overheard.

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“I don’t believe you,” you blurt.

He raises a brow. His expression says ‘you don’t believe me? After that?’ and fair enough, because all you believe now is that you’re incredibly confused. Incredibly, very confused.

“You yell at me, you constantly talk about how I’m not ready to be a cop, you regularly threaten to give me blue pages and criticize what I do in my freetime–”

“None of that means I hate you.”

“It doesn’t make it seem like you like me! You get mad at me for smiling!”

“I don’t… okay, I get annoyed sometimes but it’s situational. When I’m reaming you out, you shouldn’t be smiling.”

“It’s that or cry! I don’t like being yelled at.”

“I don’t like when you put yourself at risk constantly. That’s why I yell, that’ why I reprimand you. You’ll make a damn good cop but no one wants you to make yourself a fucking martyr. No one wants you to put everything else–the job, a dog–above your own life! I get mad because I care,” he argues. Then lowly, “too damn much.”

“Bradford…”

“It’s Tim, to you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry anyone. I just…” you trail off, Tim still watching you closely. “I can’t not try to save someone. I became a cop to do good, to help people, not to hurt them, to shoot them, to arrest innocents and victims of circumstance. There’s enough awfulness in the world that I don't want to contribute. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t want to be a cop but it’s what my family does–I like the job now, but the way I work it, you know?”

“I get it. I do. You just need to be more careful. You weren’t even on the clock on that call,”

You’re not exactly sure which call he’s referencing. You’ve intervened a few too many times when you shouldn’t have been on duty. It’s how you have (as said by Grey) ‘a record number of arrests for your first year on the force’ because you don’t let injustice slide just because you’re not getting paid. That, and because you’re ridiculously nosey.

“What call?”

“With the drug dealer and that stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you scold. “Barnaby is far from stupid.”

“Barnaby?”

“Yeah. He was a stray so I kept and named him. We trauma bonded–no way I was letting him go to a shelter after that.”

“No, no, that makes sense. I’m just wondering how the hell you came up with Barnaby.

You shrug; it’s a good name.

“Bradford!” shouts Grey, “you in there?”

Tim walks towards the door, shouting back and confirming his presence.

“My office! There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Alright!” Tim turns to you, he mouths his goodbyes and slips from the room leaving you incredibly confused.

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 4 |

Part: 3 / 2 / 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After the cafeteria incident, Gojo denies to accept your money in halves, and your primal urges of snapping at him come out after suppressing them for weeks. He’s bored of being a bully because it’s not fun anymore. Why would you give him money like that? Jeez… 🙄

Warnings: Reader is mean and Satoru is mean T_T A/N: Can’t do more than 50 mentions in a post 😭 I’m sorry I will be adding the rest of yall in the comments in the next part. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. 🥰

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot @whydohumansss @nyahctrl @a-trashbag @yoontaedotin @tojisworm-5 @mo0nforme @luciledreamz @camilo-uwu @sassyfoxunknown @bitchyinternetinfluencer @bakananya @mizzowizzo @k1y0yo @bl0odycutz @daidaiseam-blog @flirtyjen @jihyuniepark @stupiditystaar @lu-lynds @aymasakusa @creative1writings @roscpctals99 @eravariety @nanananananaiknow @b4tm4nn @milkm4nz @millimacis @bubera974 @ranhanabi777 @bleachisfood @thealphagirl @pinkprincessglitterzombie @tojisslxtt @chilichopsticks @deegausserr @tremendousdinosaurpizza @shittyhair234 @trisharay13 @luvvmae @tremendousdinasourpizza @stuckinaoaktree @ropickle @onlywaytobesane @mayumemehhh @lovernatashaa @rott3npoetry @ilovebattinson @qxdlx2 @herelegancy @megumisthirdog @k-sv @lyah17 @roscpctals99 @polarbvnny @eyes-ofhell @kazuahhh @theitchbbbb @millimacis @victoria1616

To be honest, your guts were excruciatingly high yesterday. You essentially ruined everything there is. All your efforts & hardwork to get rid of Gojo’s clutches in vain because you couldn’t control your mouth. After kicking the guy down in the cafeteria, you were called by Yaga and suspended. What else did you expect really? A freshmen kicking a senior? Nope. When Satoru does it you’re sure it wouldn’t have anyone bat a single eye to the ordeal. Another grumpy reminder that — you & the Honored one, are different. Satoru didn’t need to prove it himself.

Cowardice and your name are rhymes right now. All that classes for Taijutsu paid off to recover your leftover shred of dignity, however, you couldn’t fathom the expression in Gojo's face. He looked amused, impressed… weird. Satoru looks weird. He didn't respond when you told him to shove the money up his ass. Now you have to walk the talk. Staring at the wall, you try your best to think of a believable excuse to ask your mom for the sum of money. You check your savings, only 700 dollars. You should probably kill yourself. You can't really ask your mother about this… what were you thinking?

The thoughts are cut off by Satoru's blade like voice in your head. God you hate him so much. So much… if you were ever forgiven for a murder, it would be his. Your mind was tired with everything happening and you could feel the force in your heavy lids lulling you in bed. School next day…

You take your 700 dollars with you, you will tell the bastard that you will return the rest of the money tomorrow. Once you're outside Tokyo Tech, you take a deep breath. Walking inside and ready to be mauled. There he was, standing at the entrance and waving pathetically cheerfully. He loves making you suffer doesn't he? You grit your jaw, walking towards him. "Good morning, Gojo san." You could almost choke yourself for adding the honorific.

"Morning lil shit." He muses, leaning in closer to you until his breath fans over your face. "We were bein' a little too bratty yesterday." He muses, and your face lacks colour instantly. His eyes were launched at your frame without a care in the world. He likes making you suffer, doesn't he?

"So?" He clicks his tongue, smirking in his usual charming way, looking at you through his glasses. "Kneel down and apologize, and I'll forgive you. We can start again, no biggie. See? I have such a big heart." You bite your lip, he has no regards for your self-respect whatsoever.

You finally meet his eyes, gathering your courage to withstand his insults once again. "I have uhm, seven hundred dollars with me right now." Oh you look pathetic fiddling with your bag and giving him the cash you saved for your new laptop. "I will return the rest tomorrow." You sound determined, at least your mom wouldn't pay the full sum of it. It would be bearable.

"I can't shove it up my ass s' too less." Satoru laughs, clinging on to what you said to him. He almost feels sick now. This was unnecessarily dragged to the point of no return, he thought you would apologize and beg him to leave you alone, and he would. Then you'd see how amazing he is and why everyone is in love with him. Why girls wish they could go on a date with him pft- even if he talks to them, they feel grateful.

Here you were, holding a sum of money for the richest boy in school, in the city even. "I'll pay you the rest tomorrow." You managed to speak, and Satoru HATES this.

There is a difference between bullying and teasing and abuse. He crossed that line, not backing down because he hoped you would. You're the first one not to. He feels his chest tighten and a pinching in his throat as you hold his wrist, bringing it closer to you and putting the sum of money on his palm.

His baby-blues widen at that, and it feels like the money is practically burning his skin. It's a reflex with which he yanks his hand away. As if its burning him.

"I don't take half-payments." He managed to come up with that pathetic lie, growling and enraged, walking away.

What a fucking cunt… but hey; at least he didn't bother you for the rest of the day.

During the lunch time, you almost feel liberated that you don't have to report to him anymore. His problem he didn't accept the money. His fucking problem. You stood on your words, almost… you will give him the rest of the money tomorrow and be free of him for good. How amazing… how beautiful to imagine that.

Everyone fears him, everyone loves him. What kinda dude even. Maybe he doesn't have any real friends because he bought them all with money. Tsk…

You take your food and walk to the area where your classmates stood. You are like a walking marvel to them, someone who stood up to her senior and kicked his ass. What you don't know is Satoru Gojo ended all chances of revenge coming your way. What does it take? A simple: 'You have beef with her you have beef with me'.

Lunch is… peaceful, until you notice Satoru walking in the cafeteria, drinking Cola and with his pathetic group of friends. They can rot too.

You looked down, evading eye contact is the best way to avoid any unwanted conversations after all.

You were eating secluded, your only friend sitting beside you who doesn't mind being judged to be around you sitting next to you. "Uh oh, he's coming here." She hummed, getting nervous. You sighed, looking at her and holding her hand gently. "Thanks for your company, I can handle from here, I promise." You wouldn't let her be stomped by the Prince charming. She's been kind to you. "Are you sure?" She asked, and you nodded, patting her shoulder.

Before she could lift her plate, Satoru sat next to you. "I don't remember allowing anyone to leave? Did I?" he smiles, all childish, feigning a harmless look. "Sit. Down." He warns and she instantly sits down. You could feel her hands shiver. No, you wouldn't let her be dragged into this.

"What is it? Gojo san." You looked at him, making eye contact. "Just came to check if you had a spine." His hand lands on your nape, touching and probing the spine bone peeking out. "You do, no?"

You shudder, leaning away a little only to have him hold your neck and pull you close, whispering gravely, "If you haven't paid me back then you can't run off from your job, Pet."

You snarled at that nickname again. "I told you to take the fucking money today and tomorrow." Struggling gravely and looking at him like a wounded lion. He's wounded your pride, your self-respect.

"And I said, I do not pick up pennies. Until then, you do what I say." He chuckled, "Or you're dumb and lack common sense?"

It's been weeks. Literal weeks and you're at your breaking point. Frustration bubbles in your eyes and they gloss up. You don't want this jerk to see you like this. Fucking hell you don't!

"What did I even do to you I don't understand…" You mumble, watching him lean his hand away.

At this point things have been too rotten, and Satoru hates to admit but he just wants to hang out. He can't admit that now after raining hell on you and he's too prideful to. It's not fun anymore, it stopped being fun the moment he asked you to fetch ice-cream and the moment you looked at him with 'expected' eyes when he pulled that stunt in the cafeteria.

"You've been a bitch that's all." He shrugs, looking away. His tone surprisingly tender. "Maybe if you can apologize for being one instead of all this drama and cryin' and victim bla-"

A loud smack echoed through the hall, and Gojo's cheeks had your handprint crisp and clear. "I'm fucking sorry I wouldn't suck your cock and wag my tail around you pathetically." Oh you're losing all of the carefully supressed rage, your patience waning off to nothing. You've been supressing and supressing and supressing…. and now it's erupting out. Dangerously.

Tears fall from your eyes as you look at him, "I hate you so much I wish you could just fucking die! Not everyone's as rich as you ASSHOLE! MY MOM WOULD FREAK THE FUCK OUT AND CALL ME A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT FOR BORROWING MONEY ON RUINING SOMEONE'S HIGH CLASS SHIRT! Not everyone's born with a silver spoon!" People look at you and Satoru both judgementally. You know things have sprung out of hand. "You fuckin- GO! GO AND ASK MY MOTHER AND MY FATHER AND MY BROTHER AND EVERYONE IN MY LAST NAME TO PAY MISTER GOJO SATORU BACK BECAUSE HIS SHIRT GOT RUINED AND HE DIDN'T GET AN APOLOGETIC COCKSUCKING BITCH IN RETURN!!"

Before your senses could take over, you took your bottle and put it on his hair, drenching him. You can't let Karma take care of him, you are Karma.

Satoru only stays silent and Suguru snorts from the sidelines. In a weird, sadistically twisted way, he likes what happened. You just removed some of his guilt with this.

"R-right.." He hummed, "Okay so…" He stood up, extending an arm. "Now that we're even. I think we are…. let's restart. Nyeh?"

"Gojo Satoru." He extends his hand, as if he is introducing himself for the first time ever. Your eyes will fall off your fucking sockets and you will die of an awkward mouth-agape heart failure.

What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"ROT IN HELL!"

[fatesundress]

⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch. 

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise. 

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

[we-were-beautiful]

Marry me

Xaden x Sorrengail!oc

WC: 816

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/N: Well I decided to take part in a small writing Challenge. I had fun writing this little blurb and while it has the potential to turn into its own series; I am going to show self restraint by not doing that. The prompt was "I can never say 'no to you" From Jana over at @creativepromptsforwriting

Also fair warning; I didn't send this to any of my betas. So we die like men at this point

Thank you to @skyfallscotland and @justallihere for putting together the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash

Last but not least tumbr is being dumb and won’t let me post from my laptop so apologies about the formatting

“We should get married” I comment wrapping my arms around my beloved’s shoulders, fingers gently tracing along the scars at the top of his shoulders. I look up into his gold flecked onyx eyes and smile widely at him. Was the flight field after lessons the best place to have this conversation, probably not, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been an interesting lesson with a storm about to roll in; the thunder off in the distance rolling. But now with the rest of the third years and Professor Kaori heading back to the citadel, I figured given Xaden a small heart attack would be fun.

Where I would expect to see shock and hesitance on his face I only see a fond smile as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull me into his chest.

“When do you want to get married and how do you want to tell your mother and sisters?” I hadn’t thought of that.

It would be pretty easy to tell Violet. If I could get her away from her squad it would be as simple as that. Mira I could just write a letter too. Shed be pissed at first; she had specifically told me to stay away from Xaden. That didn’t work out since we ended up in the same squad with mated dragons; but Mira could get over it. She’d be happy for me eventually.

My mother; however, I completely forgot about. General Sorrengail hadn’t been a fan of the relationship and she had made it known to me once the word had made it to her office. That had been the only time I had formally gotten called to her office to make her displeasure known; but its been three years. Xaden and I work well together and we have been in love with each other for awhile now. Not to mention we are kinda stuck with each other until one of us dies so at one point or another she’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

I feel Tairn’s amusement in the back of my mind. The old curmudgeon had been riding my ass this last week about acting like a love sick puppy around Xaden. Like his grumpy ass isn’t the exact same way around Sgaeyl.

‘I heard that’ the rumbling voice flows through my head.

‘You were supposed to.’ I felt Tairn’s snout push at my back sending me further into Xaden’ s grasp ‘Tairn!!!’ I can hear Sgaeyl chuckle in my head.

‘I think I shall go get some sheep’ I’m not sure if it is the mighty beat of our dragons wings or thunder, but as the two dragons fly off the heavens open up above us and cold rain begins to pour down. Xaden lets out a hearty laugh squeezing me tightly.

“When do you want to get married love.” He leans down to whisper in my ear repeating his earlier question.

“Want to grab Garrick, Bodhi, Liam and Vi and sneak down to Chantara.” I would do it; grab our family and secretly get married today if he agreed.

“How about we wait until graduation. We can get our family together, before we fly to our post, and have a small ceremony.” He pushes a soaked strand of hair away from my face. “Then it gives you time to let Mira know, so she can try and get leave” leave it to this perfect man to remember that I wanted Mira there when I got married. While Brennen had Mom and Violet had Dad it had been Mira and I against the world. I still had all of the letters we had wrote to each other while she was in the quadrant and then when I started second year. She had to be there on our special day; she would kill me if I ran off today and got married.

“Ok Graduation it is then.” He looks even more breathtaking in the rain as water droplets roll down his skin.

“Alright then lets go Mrs.Riorson.” He lets go of me and moves towards the hidden tunnel entrance.

“Wait.” I call grabbing his hand to stop him. “Kiss me?” Is it cheesy and straight out of the romance books that I brought into the quadrant, yes. But I had always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

“Have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you.” He gently cradles my face in his hands tilting my face upwards; his lips crash into mine is a passionate kiss. It starts out innocent enough but my hands quickly find their way to his hair and one of his finds its way to my ass. When we break apart we are gasping for breath; Xaden rest his forehead against mine and hazel eyes meet onyx “Marry me?”

“Yes.” I laugh and pull him into another kiss.

[ladytauria]

actually, I'll give you something cute

Jason and Tim gotta pretend to be a married couple in a suburb or smth, specifically thinking they adopt like a dog/or cat while there (and then keep them obv)

but yeah playing happy married couple while totally not pining after each other

this is so messy i’m sorry lmao

mutual pining is one of my absolute favorite tropes <3 & you know i love a good undercover + identity shenanigans fic

I don’t have a lot of clear, defined ideas for the set up (I find casefics so hard to conceptualize for some reason???? Sigh.) But. I have a few thoughts— first, I don’t want them going undercover together to have been the original plan. Second, I kind of want to have originally been Jason’s case? Bc I kind of want there to be an opening thread of like. Jason’s such a planner that having his plans over turned is always upsetting for him—he’s adaptable, it rarely ever affects his actual work, but he still gets grumpy about it :/ So him reaching out for Tim’s help isn’t like. A Big Deal but it isn’t Not a Deal at all, you know? Like it means something that he’s asking Tim to come in for… SO many reasons.

Alternatively I suppose it could be something they were assigned to do by Bruce or Babs or asked to do by Steph, even, ‘cause it’s someone else’s case & they need intel but also more freedom to do stuff?? I dunnoooo. ALSO thinking that maybe Tim & Jason are the obv choice for such an assignment bc Jason is still legally dead & doesn’t have much of a civilian life that anyone knows about, and Tim is no longer involved with WE or doesn’t have to do much with the company so his free time is also… very open.

I’m also torn on like. WHERE I would want them to be. In a Gotham suburb? Or outside of Gotham completely? Like, say, Metropolis? There’s something appealing about the latter bc like. They’re already undercover, posing as different people, but NOW they’re also someWHERE else so it feels even more like this is a distant dream they can never have. However, if it’s in Gotham you could have that underlying “we could have been this if life had been different.” (You can kind of get that with the former too, but.)

Also thinking that as much as I love the gendefuckery of crossdressing / going undercover as a woman, AND as much as I love the idea of genderqueer/fluid/trans Tim, I want them to be going undercover as an MM couple? (Although, now I’m thinking about a similar situation where Tim, who doesn’t oft explore the femme side of himself in depth, actually would get to… hm.) ANYWAY. But yeah for this one, they’re going undercover as husband & husband.

Tim’s undercover persona… I’m split between something with tech or working as a mechanic. (Hush.) Jason… hmm. College TA or going for a college degree, so he’s mostly the stay at home/house husband type. Or maybe one or both of them should have a career that calls for traveling a lot?? Hm.

Both of them expect themselves and/or the other to kind of struggle with it. For multiple reasons! The first being that they have feelings for the other—there’s a part of me that actually wants to make one of them (probably Tim) oblivious to their own feelings until a week or so into the charade & have a sudden realization? But also I like the idea of both of them going into it knowing that they like each other and resolving not to let it affect things. They both also expect to miss vigilante work, because while they’re able to go out occasionally it’s not like either of them are used to.

And while it’s definitely difficult to find things to occupy their time with at first… it’s not as hard as they expect.

Thinking they adopt an animal fairly early on (thinking it should be a stray they start feeding & fall in love w). I’m leaning hard on the idea of a cat but a dog could be fun too lmao. There’s a lot of joking arguments about post-case custody but then those peter off as they start letting their roles bleed over into their lives.

And then. The case ends. They get the intel they needed, bust the operation, and it’s time for Tim & Jason to quietly pack up and leave.

Thinking the last couple of days they spend as their fake identities are awkward. They can’t find the ease they had before because they know they’re about to leave, so when they’re not actively performing for their neighbors… they’re more withdrawn.

And then they both go to their separate homes. Thinking Jason got primary custody of their dog or cat? But I could be convinced for Tim as well. Anyway. Both of them feel a little hollow; like they’re missing something. They cant stop thinking about their life together, how *real* it felt & how much they miss waking up to the other. How much they miss even the idiosyncrasies they used to argue over. (Even if at least half of those idiosyncrasies were made up for the persona. They still know each other well enough to know which ones were real and which were fake… & they find themselves wondering which parts of their private lives they left out, good and bad, what living together would *really* be like.)

Eventually one of them makes an excuse to go see the other—to check in on the cat/dog, obviously. And maybe there’s an awkward invitation to keep visiting, and a sort of. Ambiguous/open ending with an obvious/hopeful slant for them to be a couple in the future.

And then maybe an epilogue / one shot sequel set a few months in the future with a look at their established life <3333

[ send me an AU & i’ll give you at least 5 things i would include in it ]

[ghsttk]

this is wrong.

Scenario: Johnny Depp, your long time best friend, finds a Truth Or Dare board game in your house and you two end up kissing.

Warnings: Female reader, friends to lovers, suggestive at the end, perhaps boring...

Words: around 1270

a/n: I can't believe people actually read my smut lol. So, here I am again! english is not my first language, I apologize for any grammar mistake or confused sentences. And, unfortunately, no one reviwed this before I post.

You are with your best friend Johnny at your own house, it’s Saturday and you were completely bored until you’ve decided to invite him. Johnny is your childhood friend, his mother is friends with yours and perhaps even your grandmothers were friends, but that’s not the point here.

You’re sitting on the carpet with your back against the couch while Johnny is laying on that couch, both of you staring at the huge online movie catalog on the TV. You groan, frustrated. “Why does everything look so boring?” You look at Depp, hoping that he has something on his mind that might rescue you two away from this tedious state. In truth, he indeed has something on his mind, but that wouldn’t be right…

He bites his lower lip, thinking, then looks at you. “Because you’re a grumpy, picky girl” He teases with a resting face, dropping the remote on your lap. You gasp mockingly, and playfully slaps his leg. “You’re ridiculous.” You chuckle. “I hear that a lot.” He chuckled along.

Johnny shifts, now sitting on the couch. “So, what now?” He looks down at you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Do you have any board games?” He suggests with a shrug. “Board games…” You narrow your eyes, trying to remember if you have any, at least a decent game to play. “Oh, I have Chess, Uno and Checkers.” You list, relaxing your gaze on him. “I don’t usually play Board games” You explain the lack of options, even though he didn’t ask.

He stands up. “Alright, I’ll get that Uno.” Depp heads to your bedroom, where the board games stay, they’re probably on top of your wardrobe, forgotten. You place the remote on the small table in front of you and stand up, stretching your arms over your head. You walk towards the kitchen, maybe some snacks would go with the games.

You open the fridge and search for something to drink. A few memories of your childhood with Johnny floods your mind, a warm smile appears on your face and you don’t even notice it. You and him had been friends since forever, it seems. You can’t remember a day without him, he’s like a vital part of you. You think about your school days with him, the weekend sleepovers, the arcade afternoons… You especially remember the day he taught you how to play bowling, the way he smiled everytime your eyes asked for reassurance, the way his hands held yours to show how the ball should be thrown, his warmth from being so close to you- woah, what was that?

You shake your head, trying to dismiss these thoughts, and grab two cans of coke, placing them on the cabinet next to the fridge. You know you bought some chips the week before, so you start looking for it in that same cabinet. A loud sound coming from your bedroom snaps you out of your tranquility, the sound of boxes falling.

“Johnny?” You call, laughing softly, you wish you had seen that. “I’m good!” He shouts from the bedroom. His steps grow louder as he approaches you, holding a small box. “C’mon, you have Truth Or Dare? why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks with a smile, a small chuckle escaping from his lips. “Oh, do I?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at the box, neither did you know you have that. “Let’s go then..” You say, grabbing the two cokes and the bag of chips, following Johnny to the living room again.

You two sit on the floor, next to the small table. Johnny opens the box, revealing two piles of cards, he looks up at you with a smirk, he’s very competitive when it comes to Truth or Dare - or any challenging game. You watch him with an amused smile, finding his eagerness cute. “Alright. Rock, paper, scissors?” He asks, rubbing his palms together anxiously. You laugh softly and nod, already extending a hand. After three rounds, the paper against the rock turns you victorious. You choose one of the stacks and picks a card, reading aloud:

“Have you ever watched someone sleeping?” You stare at the card for a few seconds, then lower your hand to look up at Johnny, waiting for his answer. You think that this question is somewhat weird, why would someone do that? “Em... Yes, I have.” He chuckles, as if suddenly shy. You laugh in surprise “Really? Oh, wow, who?” Your smile is as wide as your eyes, finding it funny. “Hey, now it’s my turn.” He tries to change the focus, reaching for a card on the other stack, he brings it close to his face, reading. Once done, he glances at you and faces away, blushing softly.

“What’s the matter? Is it a dare?” You ask, curious. You don’t really like doing dares, but you’re also not the one to turn it down and ruin the fun. “You know what? this one doesn’t count, I’ll pick another one.” He says, already reaching for the cards again but you stop his hand. “Now, that’s cheating. Come on! Throw it at me, I can handle” You wink and lean back again, trying to be courageous… Was that even a good idea?

He clears his throat and reads the dare. “Kiss the person to your right” He searches your eyes again, trying to get your reaction. You’re stunned, you didn’t see it coming, but… Now that you’re thinking about it, that wouldn’t be so bad, right? a fake kiss wouldn’t ruin your friendship, would it? You laugh it off, trying to stay calm and composed. “It’s just a dare, nothing much… Are you okay with that? we can pick another card if-” You start, your tone slowly getting rushed as Johnny leaned closer, is he really doing it?

In truth, he would be stupid if he let this opportunity escape. He already had dreams about it, and now he has the best excuse to do it. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours, closing his eyes to savor the feeling. Your eyes are wide open though, shocked. Your best friend, your long time friend, is kissing you right in your living room.

It doesn't last long, and when you finally relax, Johnny pulls away. He looks into your eyes and you’re mesmerized, he gulps and leaned back. “Sorry, that wasn’t right-” He tries to speak but you interrupt him, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him closer again. Your lips crash against his, pouring all the repressed feelings that only grew over the years.

Then, he realizes. The only thing that would be truly wrong is denying his happiness. And his happiness is you, always have been and always will be. He kisses you back without hesitation, placing a hand on your waist, his heart feeling lighter and warmer. When the kiss ends, he smirks. “Looks like I’m not the only one competitive here.” He teases, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. “Shut up” You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“No, you shut up” He says, keeping the playful, teasing banter. That’s one of the characteristics of your friendship that you value and appreciate with all your heart, there’s no bad or awkward moments when you two are together. “Make me” you challenge, bluffing. You feel more confident, now that you don’t need to restrain yourself from following your heart, and it leads to Johnny.

“Oh.. I will,” He smirks, narrowing his eyes. He gently lays you down on the floor, his hand still on your waist, his body hovering over yours. “but you might moan a little.”

a/n: I tried to write something cute or anything but the horny thoughts I have about this man, turns out I simply can't! :D (I saw the last two sentences on Pinterest and I just had to put it somewhere, sorry)

taglist (thank you for the support! ❤︎): @drugs-and-daddyissues

-- If you want to be tagged, just dm me!

[chil-aglia]

I always headcanoned that after having turned back to normal Raph, Mikey and Leo gonna suffer headache like a hangover, but it lasts as they overthink too much. In Raph and Mikey’s case it would last few days, but with Leo who’s always planning six steps ahead it would take weeks, which would makes him grumpy (snappy) and probably sensitive of noises (like a typical hangover headache).

Soo can I request a Mind Meld Aftermath fic of that idea with Adri helping/comforting him (maybe even cuddling)?

Sensitivity Of the Mind (Leo X Adriaen)

AWWW that sounds like a cute idea. Of course I’ll write it!

Apologies if this was short. 

Also I currently don’t have a picture to go with this fic, but anyone is free to make one and tag me in it. I’ll probably even post the art to this little fic

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Someone should really ground Donnie and prevent him from messing with people's minds. Especially his brothers after the whole fiasco of him turning them smart.

After Donnie came to his senses and returned his brothers to normal, the lasting effects were…troublesome. Killer headaches from each turtle. Mostly they occurred when one overthinks on anything. But luckily Mikey and Raph didn’t have to handle it for too long, a few days at most before they were healed.

So why…why did Leo have to suffer alone and the longest?!

Was it because his mind hardly ever shuts off? Always thinking about useless stuff or planning multiple steps ahead on a mission? Was this Leo’s karma of his one-liners?

Ow…okay, calm down Nardo…

He hissed, bringing a hand to his head to soothe his upcoming headache. Was this how drunk people felt after a night out of partying? 

Leo grabs some painkillers to hopefully ease it, but it didn’t seem to work. So, he sort of just had to deal with it. And try to not think.

Which was harder than it sounds.

Days, turned to weeks for him and he was still suffering. Maybe he should let Donnie take a look at him. No…he might experiment on him, as much as he loves his big brained brother, he can’t risk another torment on his brain. Mikey and Raph were out the question, and Splinter would be no help.

Adri…

Leo bites his lip; he probably shouldn’t disturb him. He knew that Adriaen wasn’t a fan of minor disturbances, especially during training or just trying to relax. 

Currently Leo was slowly eating his breakfast. Cereal.

Mikey forgot to cook which was fine, Leo didn’t think he could stomach a heavy breakfast at the moment. Honestly Leo couldn’t even bear his own cereal, whenever his spoon tapped the bowl it made a ringing noise, and Leo had to wince and groan each time.

It was like his hearing had heightened. No…it's just over sensitivity. Another lasting effect from the mind situation he experienced. “Whoa, Leo, you good? You look rough.” Raphael commented, observing his younger brother who was hunched over. Mikey, Donnie and Adriaen all turn to Leo for answers.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t know Leon. You keep grabbing at your head. Maybe you need to take a nap—“

Leo snaps his head up at Mikey, an unintentional vicious glare on his face. “I said I’m fine! Mind your damn business!”

His outburst shook the brothers and Adriaen. Leo never snapped like that at Mikey or all people. Mikey winced and slowly lowered his head into his shell slightly. 

“Sorry…”

Leo blinks, realising what he did as he felt extreme guilt washing over him. “W-wait...Mikey I’m…I didn’t mean to…” He looks over everyone’s face, the more he looked the more he panicked which made his head throb.

With a pained wince, he gets up and storms to his room. Adriaen watched him with a frown. “Something isn’t right.” He mumbles to himself, glancing back to Mikey to silently check on his well-being. Donnie and Raph were checking on him, the youngest of the group assuring his older brothers that he was fine and that it was his fault that he pushed Leo.

Adriaen had noticed the change in Leo. He noticed a few days after Donnie got them back together in their respective mindsets. Mikey and Raph had trouble with headaches and so did Leo, but he assumed Leo was fine when Raph and Mikey got better.

Guess that wasn’t true. Adriaen felt guilt himself, he shouldn’t have just assumed Leo was fine. The signs were obvious.

“I’ll go check on him.”

“Okay…be careful. He might snap again though.” Raph worries over Adriaen, but the black masked turtle just hums in acknowledgement and walks off to Leo’s room.

When Adriaen reached the familiar room, he gently pulls back the blue sheet that was a replacement for a door. Leo claimed that it was very unique to not have a door, and he wanted to be different. When Adriaen gave brief glance around, his eyes landed onto the slider who had been curled up on his bed, his hands covering over his head and he saw his body twitching.

He was grunting and panting, stirring around as though he was trying to get comfortable but couldn’t.

Leo hadn’t noticed the guest in his room. He was busy trying to calm his mind down. But each time he tried, the throbbing increased. And god it stung.

Shut up brain. You made me snap at Mikey.

Another throb.

Ow…! Okay, just need to relax. How can I do that without feeling like this? Ugh…it hurts.

Another throb. Getting louder. The room was getting louder. Everything was louder for Leo. It's too much for him to handle.

He didn’t even realise he had tears forming in his eyes.

Suddenly he felt his bed move, and two warm arms wrap around his torso. He flinched, perking his head up to see who it was.

To his shock, Adriaen was spooning him, head burying in the crook of Leo’s neck and shoulder.

“A-Adri?”

“You’re okay…it’s just a dumb headache.”

How did…?!

Leo stared, it was quite rare for Adriaen to initiate comfort like this. Let alone to someone else. And right now…Leo needed it.

He trembles before twisting to face him. Leo had tears in his eyes as he shakes and nuzzled his face into Adriaen’s plastron.

“It hurts…”

Adriaen cradled Leo into him, softly stroking his head and shell. “I know…you’re okay. I’m here.”

“Is Mikey…—“

“He’s okay. No one is mad. We’re just worried about you.”

“I’m sorry…my head it…it hurts. Everything does.”

Adriaen softly hums, tracing his fingers along Leo’s yellow stripes on his arm. “Thats just the headaches talking….it’ll go away soon. It did with Raph and Mikey.”

Leo sniffles, god he felt embarrassed, but he also didn’t mind the affection. It warmed him, and surprisingly his head was barely a nuisance to him at the moment. “Can you stay…?” He mumbles, his voice shy and hoarse from his cries.

“Yeah…I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

Leo smiled at that, nuzzling more into the plastron of his crush as he closed his eyes and let out a breathy exhale. 

He could maybe take this chance to actually rest, since his mind was calm. All thanks to Adriaen.

I love him….

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So, I hope this was good! Honestly love Leo and Adriaen’s dynamic. They are just so cute together.

[daisynik7]

A Bento for Kento

Chapter 3: Love Language

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: none, just fluff and delicious food

Summary: You do some internet sleuthing. Ren visits Jujutsu High for the first time. Nanami keeps a secret in his pocket. And a wild Gojo appears!

Notes: This chapter’s bento is inspired by this recipe: Chicken Meatballs. Thanks for all those that have read, reblogged, liked, and/or commented so far, hope you’re enjoying it!

Previous Chapter | ao3 | Next Chapter

A Bento for Kento Masterlist

If you want to join the taglist, let me know in the comments, or interact with the post A Bento for Kento Taglist!

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This week’s bento features teriyaki chicken meatballs over a bed of white rice with a side of steamed broccoli. You elegantly drizzle teriyaki sauce on the top, the finishing touch is a sprinkle of sesame seeds. Aesthetics matter, you think to yourself, impressed by your arrangement. You repeat the meticulous process inside the Hello Kitty bento box.

When you’re done, you admire your creation. An idea pops in your head, inspired by the many viral videos you’ve watched. As a cute, personal touch, a small note can be included in the meal. It’s usually words of affirmation, sometimes even a funny joke. You take two sticky notes from your desk and write a different message on each, smiling proudly as you insert each one inside the cover of the containers.

Ren comes out of his room, ready for his Monday lesson. He joins you at the table to eat breakfast. “Morning, sis!”

“Morning! Are you excited for your lessons this week?” you ask, taking a bite out of your toast.

“Yeah! We might do one of our lessons out of the office. Nanami said he wants to show me around the school. I’m excited.” He takes a forkful of eggs into his mouth, grinning. 

“That sounds fun. It’s nice to change scenery once in a while.” You take a sip of coffee. “So do you like your mentor? Nanami, right?”

“Yup, he’s pretty cool. At first, he seems super serious, which he totally is. But I think we’re getting along well. He knows I’m taking these lessons seriously. I think that’s why he likes me.”

“Is he the grumpy old teacher type?” you ask, jokingly.

He chuckles. “He’s definitely grumpy. But he’s not old. He’s probably your age.”

This sparks your curiosity. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like, just to put a face to a name.

Ren continues. “Anyways, we’re making a lot of progress together. He’s a really good teacher. He’s opened my eyes to a lot of things.”

Part of your smile fades as you say, “Well, it sounds like you’re learning a lot from this Nanami guy. I hope you’re not planning on replacing me with him.” You’re kidding, of course, though there is a hint of actual jealously there. 

Smirking, he reassures, “Don’t be jealous, sis! He’s not as fun as you are, trust me. I told you, he’s super serious. Sometimes I wonder what he does fun. He probably reads.”

“Hey, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that!” you exclaim, throwing a grape at him. “He sounds interesting. I should meet him one day, just to size him up.”

In all seriousness, you actually want to check this guy out, confirm that this man isn’t negatively influencing your sibling in any way. You still have no idea what these “lessons” consist of, or what this Jujutsu High is. This creep could be teaching your baby brother how to be a deviant.

Finished with breakfast, he gets up to retrieve his backpack, bentos packed securely in place. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s a good guy.” He pats you affectionately on the shoulder before leaving.

You sit at the table for a little while longer, contemplating while you play with the stray crumbs on your plate. Minutes later, you text Ren:

You: What’s your mentor’s full name again?

Ren: Kento Nanami

Ren: why?

You: just curious, thanks!

Let the internet sleuthing begin.

~~~

This week, Nanami plans to take Ren on a tour of Jujutsu High. He insisted Gojo visit sometime on Monday to give Ren an overview of the rules and general layout, hoping to prepare his student before he first steps foot on campus. It can be overwhelming for a first timer, he’s well aware of that.

As expected, Gojo does not give him an exact time for when he’ll arrive. Nanami’s attempts at extracting an answer from his flake of a friend are useless. I’ll get there when I get there, Nanamin! I’m a busy man! is all Gojo texts him, after being pestered for the third time about his current location.

The day isn’t wasted, however. In typical fashion, Nanami planned accordingly with some new material to teach Ren, already predicting this type of behavior from Gojo. Lunch time approaches and he still hasn’t shown up. Growing impatient, Nanami decides to take their break now. If Gojo pops in while they’re eating, he’ll just have to wait.

Ren hands the Hello Kitty bento box to Nanami, this gesture becoming a small tradition between them. “Thank you, Nakamura,” he says, walking over to his desk. “I’m going to the break room to make my tea. Would you like anything from the vending machine?”

“Hm, maybe a Pocari Sweat?” 

After Nanami brews his tea and a purchases Ren’s beverage, he returns to the room, ready for another delicious treat courtesy of the older sister. As he sets the drink on Ren’s desk, he sneaks a peek at his open container, spotting meatballs and some type of glaze over a bed of rice. The smell is intoxicating, his mouth watering from the inviting aroma.

Surprisingly, the food is untouched. Usually, when Nanami comes back from the breakroom, his student is halfway finished with his meal. He glances over at Ren to see what’s distracting him. He is staring at the inside cover of his bento box, a warm smile spread across his face.

Curious, Nanami asks, “Is everything alright?”

He looks at Nanami and answers, “My sister left me a note.” He flips over the cover to show it. In neat handwriting, the memo reads:

Happy Monday, booger! Have the best day ever!

A little heart and smiley face are scribbled at the end.

Nanami raises a brow, amused. “Booger?”

Ren chuckles. “Just a little nickname she calls me sometimes. Maybe there’s another one for me in your box! Can you tell me what it says when you see it?”

Agreeing, Nanami sits at his desk. For some reason, he’s nervous to open it. As if he’s intruding on something intimate, something personal. He uncovers it slowly, examining the top for a note. In the same handwriting as the other, a message is displayed:

The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that.

There’s strange tightness in his chest upon reading those words. He glances at Ren, who is now his normal self, devouring his meatballs whole. Focused back on his desk, he quietly takes the note off the cover and pockets it.

Ren, mouth full, asks, “Is there anything?”

Nanami contemplates for a few seconds, then responds, “No, there isn’t.” He starts eating a meatball, which tastes even better than he imagined. Though, his mind is distracted by the fact that he just lied about something so trivial, so insignificant. Why?

“Ah, okay.” Observing his own note again, Ren laughs. “Can’t believe she’s still calling me booger! Ha!” He takes a sip of Pocari Sweat and continues to eat, blissfully unaware that his own mentor is hiding a secret in his pants pocket.

Nanami stuffs more food into his mouth in silence, questioning his own motives regarding this damn piece of paper. His hand slides into his pocket, feeling for it, remembering the words scrawled over it.

The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that.

He knows it wasn’t written for him. Of course he knows that.

However, there’s an odd sensation coursing through his being. An unusual tightness in his chest spurred by a simple statement attached to the back of Hello Kitty’s face. Whatever this sensation is, Nanami reasons that this is what compelled him to lie about the note. 

A few more moments of contemplation, he realizes something as he finishes his last meatball. The true reason why he is acting this way.

He wants to pretend it’s for him.

Gojo finally arrives as soon as Ren and Nanami are finished with their food. “Hello, my dear friends!” he greets happily.

Nanami wipes his mouth with a napkin and closes the box. Just as he’s about to hand the empty container to Ren, his friend squeals, “Nanamin, wait. What is that?!” Even behind the blindfold, it’s obvious that Gojo’s eyes are filled with glee.

“It was my lunch,” he answers, nonchalant.

Gojo’s grin widens, as he squeals again. “I need to take a picture of this! You and Hello Kitty! Nanamin, this is just adorable.” He takes his phone out and starts snapping away before Nanami can hide his face behind his hand.

“Stop it. You are awful.” He slides the bento over to Ren, still trying to conceal himself from his annoying friend’s ridicule.

Gojo turns to Ren, showing him what he captured. “Isn’t this so precious? Little Nanami with Hello Kitty. This day can’t get any better.”

They giggle with each other while Nanami sighs heavily, palm pressed against his forehead in aggravation. “Can we just get on with this, Gojo? And delete those photos immediately.”

“No way. The world is better a place now because of these,” Gojo teases, swiping through his phone, a smug grin plastered on his face.

Nanami begins to blush, remembering the note. He sticks his hand in his pocket and feels for it again, making sure it’s still there. He clears his throat, speaking a bit louder. “Okay, enough. Let’s move on.”

After more snickering between Gojo and Ren, they finally get back on track. As Gojo introduces Jujutsu High to Ren, Nanami takes this opportunity to zone out. He stares at his desk, thinking of food, Hello Kitty, and his dumb friend taking those incriminating photos. Occasionally, he brushes his hand over his pants, rubbing the outline of the note. The one that is not his. What’s the harm in pretending? It makes him feel good. It makes him feel appreciated.

He slyly removes it out of his pocket and sets it inside his suitcase, where it’s safe. The last thing he needs is Gojo having any more leverage against him than he already has. If it accidentally falls into the wrong hands, specifically Gojo’s, he’d never hear the end of it.

~~~

During your break, you decide to investigate Ren’s teacher. You type the name “Kento Nanami” into the search bar. The top result is a blog post from a finance company you’ve never heard of. Clicking on it, you notice the article is a few years old. It features five different employees from the company, each one having a picture with a small blurb beside it. You scroll towards the middle of the page and find what you’re looking for.

Name: Kento Nanami

Age: 23

Position: Senior Stockbroker

About: Kento Nanami is one of our youngest and most successful stockbrokers. He started working for our company straight out of high school and has excelled ever since. Hobbies include eating, drinking, cooking, and reading. He enjoys helping others and has been an asset to us during the onboarding process for new employees. His favorite part of working for this company is the salary because it helps him fund his addiction to bread.

You laugh out loud at the last part. Then, you notice his picture. It’s a professional headshot, probably taken in the office for the purpose of this post. His blond hair is parted on the side with loose strands falling over his forehead. He has a sharp nose and cheeks that are slightly sunken, maybe due to the stress of being a stockbroker. The spotted tie he’s wearing over his navy-blue button up stands out. It’s an interesting pattern, but for some reason, it works. His expression is neutral, neither smiling, nor frowning. He looks serious, just as Ren described him. 

You stare at him a bit longer and you smile to yourself.

He is handsome.

But why the sudden change in career? Based on his description, he was doing well as a stockbroker. Why would he leave? And what exactly is he teaching your younger brother? Surely it isn’t lessons on stockbroking. Or is it? Is this some sort of pyramid scheme? They have their lessons in an office building, which is very suspicious to begin with. 

You continue your web search and find nothing else outside of his previous occupation in finance. He doesn’t have any public social media pages and there is nothing mentioning current employment. Curious, you search Jujutsu High, only to be redirected to pages related to Jiu Jitsu, the Brazilian martial art. Anything related to Jujutsu doesn’t exist on public record.

Your inner alarm bells are ringing. This is strange. You’ve made it almost a month blindly trusting your brother, not asking too many questions. How much longer can you hold out for? You have no clue what Ren has gotten himself into and the constant mystery surrounding it has you worried.

Also, you know nothing about this Nanami fellow. He could be a creepy cult leader or a shady ex-stockbroker roping innocent youths into a Ponzi scheme, hiding behind an attractive suit and a pretty face. Either way, it’s suspicious. 

Retrieving a small journal from your drawer, you jot down questions you want to ask Ren. You need answers to give you peace of mind. The rest of the summer can’t go on like this. If something terrible were to happen to him, you will never be able to forgive yourself. You have to know the truth. 

~~~

On Wednesday, Nanami brings Ren to Jujutsu High. He can tell that Ren’s mind is blown as soon as he steps foot through the protective barrier, jaw dropping and examining the campus, speechless. 

They walk through the training grounds, watching students spar with each other. Ren observes them carefully, looking away briefly only to scribble notes. They watch for nearly an hour, Nanami explaining their moves and typical training regiments that are expected of first years. 

Their tour through campus continues. Ren gazes up at the buildings, appreciating the architecture. It reminds Nanami of his experience as a Jujutsu High student. He doesn’t dwell on the past all too often but being here makes him reminisce, as if he never left. 

Currently, there are no classes in session, so they take this opportunity to peek into each of the empty classrooms, ending with Gojo’s. There are plenty of windows, a sparse number of desks, and one big blackboard, displaying the remnants of whatever was taught in the most recent lesson. Nanami takes a couple of minutes to go over this with Ren.

Afterwards, they decide to take their break in one of the courtyards. Nanami is handed his usual bento box with Hello Kitty. He looks around to make sure Gojo isn’t nearby to tease him. With the coast clear, he uncovers the container, finding a note attached to the inside again. He purposefully positions himself across from Ren so that he can read the message in secret. Glancing over at his student, who is distracted by his own meal, Nanami focuses on the familiar handwriting:

Have the best day ever! I love you!

Followed by three hand drawn hearts in a row.

His lip twitches into a small smile, admiring the words in front of him. Once again, he removes it and secures it in his pocket. He’s not exactly sure why he’s keeping them. Maybe he likes having it within reach for a quick pick-me-up. Yesterday, he met with Gojo to exorcise a low-grade curse, and when he was home, he took Monday’s note out of his briefcase to read it again: The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that.

The words replayed in his head as he soaked in the bath that night. It lingered in his mind as he prepared dinner, even when he was in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep. That message gives him validation. What he’s doing now as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, and even as a mentor, makes a difference in the world. He is important.

However, this new note offers a different reaction, right in the pit of his stomach. A strange, fluttering feeling. He can’t remember the last time someone told him, “I love you.” In fact, he’s barely heard that phrase throughout his entire adult life.

Is he this desperate for affection? Enough to pretend that these words are actually for him? He’s actually envious of Ren for having someone like this in his life. A person who constantly reminds him how much he is loved, how special he is to this world. When will Nanami experience this for himself? He wonders if that will ever happen. 

He catches himself, scoffing as he continues to eat. It’s silly, sentimental, and immature for him to be feeling this way. This is unlike him. 

Ren breaks the silence, bringing Nanami back from his deep thoughts. “Hey Nanami, words of wisdom from my sister. ‘In life, we should all aim to be like meatballs: Well-seasoned and well-rounded.’” He flashes a smirk as he lets the joke sink in.

Nanami genuinely chuckles at the corny pun. “Clever.”

“She made huge ones today, just for fun. Wanna see?” Ren offers, scrolling through his phone. He faces his screen towards Nanami, showing a picture of a woman around Nanami’s age, wearing a black apron over pajamas. She smiles brightly at the camera, holding two massive meatballs in her hands, like trophies.

“She was so proud of them she had me take a picture,” Ren laughs, pulling his phone away.  

It isn’t the giant hunks of meat that captures Nanami’s attention. It’s her smile, bright and endearing. Inviting and welcoming. The second thing he notices are her pajamas, obscured partially by the apron she wears over it. They are wasabi green in color with different types of sushi as the pattern. It’s cute. As much as Nanami despises using that word, there’s no other way to describe it.

And it’s not just the pajamas. She is cute. 

He almost chokes on his meatball upon this revelation. Guilt sweeps over his body, ashamed that such a thought comes to his mind in front of his student. In front of her brother. He doesn’t even know this woman. One picture and he’s already thinking she’s cute.

A blush creeps up on his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, uncomfortable with the flurry of thoughts rushing into his head. He tries his hardest to stop thinking of her, but it’s too late. He imagines her standing in front of him smiling, holding out the Hello Kitty bento box filled with glorious food, reciting the words she scrawled on those pieces of paper. 

The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that. I love you, Nanami.

His entire face is hot, certain that it’s red all over. Thankfully, Ren is distracted by his phone as he munches on a piece of broccoli lazily.

Nanami can’t believe himself. He’s making up scenarios in his head about a woman he’s never even met before. No one should see him like this, so it takes all his willpower to calm down and remove all these ridiculous thoughts from his head.

With perfect timing, Gojo joins them in the courtyard, eating an apple and chatting with Ren. He takes a moment to tease Nanami, Hello Kitty still in front of him, but he doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he’s focused on appearing calm and stoic.

He decides for himself that he wants to know more about Ren’s sister, mentally noting what type of questions to ask without giving his true intentions away. Ren constantly praises his sister, it’s only natural for Nanami to wonder what she’s really like. The woman behind the bento. 

It’s just curiosity, Nanami tells himself. That’s all it is. Nothing more.

~~~

Friday arrives and you send your brother off with his two bentos. Tonight, you’re going to demand the truth. Not every single detail, but anything to put your mind at ease. You plan to butter him up first by going to the local street food fair and buying him all the Yakitori he desires. Then, maybe after some delicious soft serve, you’ll ambush him.

The best plans begin with food, right?

~~~

Gojo suggests taking Ren on a low-risk mission, which Nanami hesitantly agrees to. He’s aware his pupil will not be the one fighting; he’s only there to observe. Still, he’s nervous. Although more mature than some other kids his age, he is a child that Nanami has temporarily taken under his wing.

On Friday, they stay in the office for the first half of the day, going over every possible detail he can about this mission. They agree to eat before heading out, following their usual routine: Ren distributes the bentos, Nanami heads down the hall to brew his tea and grab a drink from the vending machine for Ren. The two of them sit at their desks, eating their lunch while exchanging casual conversation. 

Today, Nanami’s note says: Can’t wait to spend this weekend watching movies and baking cookies with you!There’s a doodle of the Cookie Monster surrounded by chocolate chip cookies. He takes it, sliding it into his briefcase, wondering what movies they enjoy watching together. He smiles thinking of the cookies, how wonderful their house will smell as they bake in the oven.

He looks over at Ren. “Any words of wisdom today?”

Ren shakes his head and responds, “Nope. All she said was ‘Happy Friday to the best brother ever.’” He stares at the note with a small frown.

“What’s wrong, Nakamura?”

He sighs, setting his fork down. “I don’t know. I feel guilty. I haven’t told my sister anything, and she’s been so great and supportive, but I just…” He stops, unsure what to say next.

“I understand where you’re coming from. What we do...well, it’s not easy to explain.”  

“Exactly. Like, what do I even tell her? Hey sis, I think my biological parents were involved with some curse users and killed. Then I somehow inherited these strange powers and now I can see curses. How crazy would she think I am?!”

“Well, that is the truth, isn’t it?”

Ren scratches his head anxiously, not responding. Then, Nanami says, “You always talk about how supportive your sister is. Don’t you think you should give her some credit? She might be more understanding than you think.”

Still frowning, Ren replies, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I just have to tell it to her straight and hope for the best. I mean, we’re going on a small mission today, right? We might be going on bigger ones in the future. What if something happens to me? She’s gonna see my mangled body and not even know what happened. I can’t do that to her. I won’t do that to her.” He goes back to eating his meatball, brows knit in deep thought.

Nanami is honestly impressed. Ren is a teenager, but he’s surprisingly mature and responsible. “So, do you think you’ll tell your sister tonight?”

“I think so. We’re planning to go to this street food festival nearby. Once we’re full of Takoyaki, I’ll tell her.”

Sounds fun, Nanami muses. “I hope your talk goes well.” He gives Ren a small smile, then returns to his lunch.

“Do you like street food, mentor?” Ren wonders, sipping on his drink.

“I do. I like Takoyaki as much as anyone, but I’m partial towards Taiyaki.” Pancake batter filled with sweetened red bean paste and shaped like a fish. Of course it’s Nanami’s favorite.

“Ha, you’re the same as my sister. She loves Taiyaki.”

Grinning, he wonders what other foods she might like. What other things they have in common with each other. Trying to play it cool, Nanami asks, “What’s your favorite, Nakamura?”

“Oh, it’s definitely Yakitori. I love meat!” Ren exclaims. He turns to face Nanami. “Hey, do you want to go to the festival with us? I’m sure my sister wouldn’t mind.”

Nanami’s heart thumps, actually considering it. Street food on a Friday night sounds amazing, but he should decline the offer. Tonight will be important for both Ren and his sister. The last thing they need is a gloomy Nanami hovering over them like a rain cloud.

“That’s alright. You have important matters to discuss, so I don’t want to intrude.” He pauses for a few seconds before adding, “But thank you for the invite.”

Ren smiles politely. “Maybe next time then. I’d really like you to meet her.”

Nanami thinks it at first, then decides to say it out loud.

“I’d like that, too.”

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

Tag List: @liliorsstuff-blog @hughugh20 @lucyrocks86 @bloompompom @vampyra-needs-food @extrasugafree @deepcloudspyhairdo @invisible-mori @justnamuaf @syynnaaah @unknownspecies @goldencattto @maqqiekwon

[renjibozo]

a coherent (probably not) thought dump about the new buddy daddies PV 3 (and additionally, PV 2)

because i'm sitting crying and need people to hear what i'm thinking about this PV i am brocken

edit: we’re making a few edits because i realized PV 2 exists and now i need to revise some parts so i don’t look like an utter clown next week (and please don’t trust me 100% with translations i’m using my very limited knowledge)

ok so starting off with this from PV 3, you can hear miri telling rei something along the lines of "Papa Rei! Get home quick, 'kay? Because today's!" before it just cuts to the next voice line

a birthday mayhaps? it might be miri’s birthday, it might be rei’s birthday, or it might be kazuki’s birthday and they’re preparing a surprise. unless it’s something else then literally please ignore this entire section

in PV 2, you can see her wearing a party hat along with streamers strung up behind her off to the side + another party hat at the corner of the screen

this means there IS a birthday (like i thought earlier before the edit) and it’s rei’s because kazuki is in the same room as miri while they’re talking

“Papa Rei looks lonely sometimes...” - Miri “Isn’t that guy just always grumpy?” - Kazuki

moving on, kazuki saying something along the lines of "I don't like this season/weather..." and a shot of a drawer opened to reveal a polaroid in the middle of many many knickknacks

judging by one of the shots in the opening,

his wife probably died in the rain and we're getting more information about the incident because it's been hinted at in the early episodes before it became parenting focused

and adding onto this because of a nice person in the replies!

the building behind him looks exactly like aozora daycare, just not sure if its the front or back (maybe the front bc of the hint of a blue gate beside him) but there doesn’t seem to be bushes planted anywhere near the spot where you can see the hydrangeas, so maybe it got planted a while later?

considering the clothes he’s wearing, this has to be before the dinner scene and is what leads up to it... the connections are getting stronger

you cannot convince me that this isn't rei's brother and that he isn't the favorite child

even rei (as seen from a flashback) couldn't call his father "dad" and that he should refer to him as "boss", but then there's this guy fighting him that calls rei's father as "father"

and something something about "Didn't Father tell you to return to the organization?" which implies he escaped the organization and got hired by kyutaro somehow

how he managed to get an apartment? i'll probably just say kyutaro did it i have no idea if he can even make forgeries like kazuki does

additionally: in PV2 you can see more of the gunfight between who i assume to be rei’s brother (older or younger? who knows)

and i assume this is set while miri and kazuki are waiting for rei to come back because it’s his birthday and they set up a nice surprise party for him, so, hoping he hurries back home because he can’t just stand them up like that on his own birthday

OK. NOW. THE SCENE THAT SPAWNED THIS ENTIRE POST.

there must've been some kind of falling out between rei + miri and kazuki because he was screaming "I'm... not your housekeeper!" during dinner

i'm suspecting that they finally got on his nerves if they never pick up after themselves properly or just the small stuff piled up onto kazuki and he had enough despite usually not really minding the fact that he has to do most if not all of the house chores

but another theory i have is that the scene with the photograph is connected and because of the stress, it leads up to him taking it out on rei and miri. i'm distraught i don't want to see this episode but i have to. mfs gonna have a sk8 episode 7 situation and i'm powerless to stop it

already saw a post or two about this one and i also hope it's just a red herring but judging by the shirt that rei has on which is different from the shirt he wears inside the house in earlier episodes, this was probably right after kazuki's meltdown

maybe kazuki ran off somewhere? maybe miri tried following him and got sick in the process and rei had to come fetch her? i just wonder how desperate rei must've been to run to kyutaro for help even if he's not as wary about kyutaro like kazuki is

kyutaro's talking about something being a warning because the organization doesn't forgive something (possibly kazurei taking in miri and raising her)

this shot looks like it could've been a flashback from when his wife died because he was wearing a green shirt during the dinner scene

ignoring the crossed out line because it has to be during the birthday surprise episode because if it really was after kazuki’s meltdown, he has to have been wearing a green shirt. but in the scene where he’s standing in the rain looking a little roughed up, he’s wearing the same exact clothes as here

and then a shot of rei's father without the shadows mostly hiding his face from a flashback!

he's gonna be a major player in the second half and i am Not Here for it

bonus: i think karin's a spy tasked to idk infiltrate kazuki and rei's apartment and see what they're up to i just know she's gonna be a pain in the ass for them

that's all folks i just needed to get these out right now

[bobbybutterfly]

It’s been over 2 weeks since I last posted. Well. I hope that these four pieces were worth the wait.

Mulori! Boy I’m proud of this piece! I tried experimenting with colour by using warmer colours for shadows and cool colours for lights. She’s really giving angel of war descending from the heavens.

What to say about Mulori? Her death! You’re telling me that scout Gosemdouchi got a whole ass music video dedicated to him and Mulori gets NOTHING?! I’m outraged. But her edition of In the Years I Spent Far From Home is just so beautiful. Now I’m writing about it, I’m not sure if they made a separate cover for when she sings it in Operation White Snow or she was always singing it. Non the less it slaps.

Interesting was to see she’s shown often with Commander Gosemdouchi. He personally sends her off on her mission to stop the weasel spies (I’m sorry I don’t remember the name of their group). He cries when she dies, proclaiming they should fire their missiles for Mulori. The reason why I find it interesting is that when I went to write a short story about Mulori’s time in the military, I made them have a let’s say weird relationship. Maybe it got saved in my unconscious memory. Just like with Udochi being scout Gosemdouchi’s younger brother LOL. I thought I made that up but no!

I should maybe go back to that story sometime. Probably change Commander Gosemdouchi to a lower rank hedgehog that still has authority over her. A country leader would not have time to bully some low rank scout. Even though it is quite funny when I think about it.

Oewepali! I got told that this piece lacks depth because I use the same colours in the foreground and background. That’s a problem in all my pieces. It’s my fault for trying to use a very limited colour palette. Also what happened to his left arm and now that I’m looking at it, where’s his tail? The lighting too is… With the lighting in these pieces I wasn’t thinking about where it would logically go. I just made the lighter parts where they would look good compositionally. Yeah. I’m not that proud of the last two pictures.

As for what I think of this character… I originally thought that he got some developmental disability. I thought it would be interesting to write about a character during war that doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Kinda like Forest Gump. After rewatching the series (I still have to rewatch last two episodes) I came to the conclusion that he’s neurotypical but bullied by his brothers into thinking that he’s stupid. In the later episodes he’s shown to be actually quite capable. If I ever write a story featuring him I might give him like dyslexia though. I imagine he and his brothers went through a lot of trauma. Because he was the youngest and maybe had difficulty with learning they picked on him to let their frustration out.

Mulsajo! That’s right! I know his name now! I drew his paw like that because it was like that in the reference. I don’t really like it but I don’t have an idea how I would change it. I did change though, his teeth. My mom shown me rodent teeth because she didn’t like the mice have cat fangs. So he is a little more anatomically correct. Ignore the dog nose and that he’s anthropomorphic. LOL.

I took just so many screenshots! I should sometime post them. I love how they’re drawn in this picture! SO CUTE!

Mulsajo has one of the best designs in the show. The ripped up purple shirt is iconic. It was a while since I’ve seen the episodes with him. Before rewatching the show I thought he was a decent guy. Then I rewatch the show and he’s so mean to poor Oewepali. Dude can’t get a break. My head cannon still is that he’s nice but because they were starving, he’s aloud to be a bit grumpy. He’s also spiritual. Giving us one of the funnier jokes when Oewepali asks if he can eat the big fish only to be told no and then complain that Mulmangcho should have died earlier. This show’s dark humour is pretty great.

I want to develop my own mythology for my AU. Such as the mouse kings being descended from the sea god because Mulmangcho (he’s a king in exile in my AU) is often shown by the sea. It’s something I was thinking about when I drew this piece. It’s also inspired by Mulsajo’s death. Now if we’re talking about a main side character dying, Mulsajo has it the worst. He is never mentioned again in season 1. If you didn’t pay attention you wouldn’t have noticed he died. He is only sort of mentioned in season 2 episode 1. Mulmangcho is in disguise as a squirrel making up stories about what the wolves did to him and his family. He mentions his twelve dead brothers and how they cut off his tail. You begin to realise that he’s talking about what Flower Hill did to him. Obviously the moral is to never trust strangers no matter what they tell you. But I like to view it as a rare sympathetic scene for Mulmangcho. If someone was to write a continuation of season 2 I would like to see them expand on that scene.

Also fan art idea to design Mulmangcho’s 11 other dead brothers?

Last one up is Scout Gosemdouchi. Please don’t pay much attention to the plane. I really got to do some airplane studies. For the background I tried something more graphic and non literal. Lots of people I shown it to think he’s jumping out of the plane.

I actually have some trauma dumping I want to do. I swear it’s related to Squirrel and Hedgehog. If you don’t want to hear me whine about my catholic trauma then skip the next paragraph.

Alright then. Let’s get on with it. So I was like 8 years old. Our whole catholic school went to church. The priest starts preaching about this “real” story from China. The communists were cracking down on Christians. Some soldiers trashed a church. Taking special care the throw the Eucharist on the ground and stomp it with their muddy boots. Later a little girl would sneak into the boarded up church and lick the Eucharist off the ground. One day a soldier noticed her doing that AND SHOT HER ON SIGHT! Lesson? Be willing to die for your god.

I guess I like the cartoon because it reminds me of my childhood. LOL. Be sure to share your stories of childhood indoctrination in the comments! For real though, scout Gosemdouchi’s and Mulori’s deaths are to me the grossest parts of Squirrel and Hedgehog. Luckily I’ve got my head cannons that sort of fix that for me.

Originally this was the first picture I talked about but I found what I had to say was quite depressing. Plus religion is a touchy subject. I hope I didn’t offend anyone. I’m just talking about my own experiences. Also it’s good to have it off my chest. Now I don’t have to think about it anymore! YAY!

[avastrasposts]

The British Connection - ch. 7

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Butcher had left Eve’s flat the previous evening with more questions than answers after seeing the CCTV coverage of the attacks on the two UK politicians. Together they’d rewatched all the footage available, the two original attacks and the two later ones, but no matter how many times they watched it they came to the same conclusion; somehow the supe is controlling his victims with eye contact and potentially physical contact. But neither video gave them any clues to the identity of the supe. 

Finally, calling it a night at 2 am, Butcher left Eve’s place to get a few hours of sleep, the only plan they have is to get the CCTV footage from US attacks too and hopefully question the Deputy Secretary of the Department of Treasury, the one remaining person the supe controlled who’s still alive. Hopefully Mallory can provide both. 

The next morning Eve headed over to the Flatiron building to meet Butcher and the team again. She hadn’t slept well. A combination of demons crawling around her head when she tried to relax, made sleep difficult. When she got to the office she was grateful for the large coffee MM handed her as she said good morning to them. 

Butcher hasn’t turned up yet so she sinks down on the old sofa next to Kimiko when Frenchie offers her the seat. 

“Bonjour, mademoiselle Edwards, please, sit,” Frenchie ushers her to the seat next to the Japanese girl and perches himself on an upturned crate next to them with a big smile. 

“Monsieur Charcuterie is not ‘ere yet but, mais tu parles français? You speak French, oui?”

“Oui, j'ai appris le français à l'école, we started in Year 1. Marseille, non?

“Oui, oui,” Frenchie replies with a delighted smile, “you heard my accent?” 

“Our teacher was from Marseille. But you call Butcher, Monsieur Charcuterie? Not Monsieur Boucher?” 

“Why, what’s the difference?” Hughie asks, he’s also got a big coffee in hand. 

“Boucher is Butcher,” Frenchie says, “But charcuterie is the preparing of the meat, the cooking of the…charc?” He looks at Eve for the translation. 

“The flesh,” she says. “Charcuterie translates into cooked flesh.” 

“Oui! And this is what Monsieur Charcuterie does, he does not butcher, he cooks the flesh.”

“Ok, that’s a disturbing notion at 9:15 in the morning, Frenchie,” Hughie wrinkles his nose. 

Kimiko taps Eve on the arm and gestures to her notepad, James Bond is MI6? 

Eve reads the notes and laughs. “Yes, he’s supposed to be Mi6 but don’t believe Hollywood. I’ve done this job for many years now and not once has that included martinis in a casino,” Eve pulls a face at an unpleasant memory, “Although I did once spend five weeks working in a bar, but that was more Jäger shots and vomit cleanup than cocktails.”

“Sounds better than being covered in blood and gore,” Hughie says, “You don’t want to know what this job can literally throw at you.”

“Last year we crashed a speed boat into a whale,” Frenchie nods, “petite Hughie here ended up inside it with MM and Monsieur Charcuterie.”   

“A speed boat into a whale?” Eve says, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“Ye, it was fuckin’ diabolical,” Butcher says, pushing the door closed behind himself, “Don’t give away all our secrets now, Frenchie.” 

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you actually manage to crash into a whale?” 

“Easy, you point the front of the boat at the cunt supe standin’ on top of it and give the engine full throttle,” Butcher gives a wicked grin. 

“I’ll feel like I should probably sign an NDA to hear the rest of this story,” Eve replies.

“Ye, best not ask too many questions,” Butcher says, “things might get redacted. Which brings me to me first point of order this morning.” Butcher steps up to the sofa and glares down at Eve. 

“Who the fuck is the fuckin’ Honourable Genevieve Horatia Daphne Byng Edwards? And who the fuck is your dear old daddy?” 

Eve looks up at Butcher for a few seconds. He’s towering over with a nasty look on his face, staring down at her with a sneer. “I’m going to guess you’ve seen my file then?” she says and pushes herself up, forcing Butcher to back up, but still bearing down on her. 

“Ye, I had to fuckin’ threaten Mallory but eventually she gave it up. Didn’t seem like she, CIA or the MI6 cunts at Vauxhall were too keen on me finding out who you actually are. Half your bleedin’ file’s been censored. But I did some digging this morning. Your name ain’t exactly run of the mill, darlin’.” 

He takes a step closer to her, she can feel the rage coming off him like heat. “Like I told you yesterday, I need all the information. But you and the fuckin’ MI6 is expecting me to risk me bleeding neck for some upperclass cunt like you? For what, a plot at Brookwood?” 

“I’ve given you all the information we need for this assignment, Butcher,” Eve says, “Who I am has nothing to do with the job at hand and doesn’t affect my performance in the field.” 

“It bloody well does, when the supe’s second victim was your dear old daddy and the girl who did the killin’, was your niece. Are you gonna stand there and tell me that seeing your niece slice her own throat won’t affect your performance in the field?” 

Eve has gone pale and she drops her gaze away from Butcher’s. He lowers his voice into a menacing growl, “Your niece didn’t get hit by a bus, she ripped your father’s throat out and then sliced her own neck open with an 8 inch blade, bleeding out on your brother’s patio.” 

“Butcher, that’s enough!” MM snaps, looking at Eve. She’s sunk down on the sofa again, her head is in her hands, as if she’s trying to block Butcher’s words.  

“No!” Butcher snarls at MM, “She’s withheld crucial information from us while asking us to go after an unknown supe to get her own revenge.”

“Yeah, Butcher, doesn’t that remind you of someone?” 

“Fuck off, MM, it ain’t the fuckin’ same!” 

“We’ve all got skin in this game, Butcher, it’s what fucking drives us. Yeah, she should’ve told us but that doesn’t make her any worse than you or me or Hughie for that matter.”

“I should’ve told you,” Eve says, her voice low, still cradling her head in her hands, “But I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to not think about her,” She looks up at Butcher, her jaw is clenched firm, “I’m trying to be just the soldier, not her aunt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you really didn’t need to know those details. It was easier to block it when you and Mallory didn’t know.” 

“Oh ye, speaking of Mallory,” Butcher growls, “The file she got from Vauxhall is unreadable. Half the fuckin’ file is blacked out and redacted.” Butcher kneels down in front of the sofa so he’s level with Eve’s face and his face has a menacing grin. “I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what those blacked out parts say. And if I catch you in a fuckin’ lie again, I’m going straight to Vauxhall and I’m telling them all the classified info you so generously shared yesterday.” 

“Fuck you, Butcher, “ Eve says through gritted teeth. 

Butcher keeps grinning and stands up, “On your feet soldier. Hughie!” He turns to Hughie, “Hook the laptop to the big screen and plug this in, it’s Ms Edwards file, she’s going to walk us through it real nice and slow.” 

Hughie sets up the laptop and the file from Mallory’s USB stick appears on the big screen in the office. Eve gets up off the sofa and walks over to the desk while Butcher tabs through the security clearance briefing until he gets to the page with her personal info. He glances over his shoulder as Eve approaches him from behind. “I’m gonna assume you’ve still got that knife up your sleeve, darlin’,” he says. “Just don’t try anything, you only get the drop on me once.”

“Yes, I was just thinking the same, Butcher,” Eve replies with a dark look at him. 

“Now, don’t get all vindictive on me, Ms Genevieve, or is it M'lady? I ain’t quite up to date on the correct form of address of the upper classes and all that palaver,” Butcher gives her his best shit eating grin and waves her in front of the big screen. “Let’s begin shall we?” 

“Now, all this early bollocks we can skip I’d say, except maybe this bit,” Butcher tabs through the unredacted pages covering the beginning of her career and pauses on a page that’s blacked out. “What’s this? Injured in 2003 and a big gap in your resume all redacted?” 

Eve sighs, “That has nothing to do with the present day situation.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, luv, spill it,” Butcher smirks. 

“Fine, have it your way,” Eve snaps at Butcher, “In the 90’s my father served as a judge in Northern Ireland, he moved the family over there too. He handled a number of high profile cases, putting several paramilitary leaders in The Maze.” 

“The Maze?” MM interrupts. 

“A British prison in Northern Ireland, used mainly for paramilitary prisoners during the conflict.” Eve explains. “It was a dangerous assignment, the paramilitary groups hated the occupying British forces and as a judge my father was a prime target for them. But after the Good Friday Agreement, and the ceasefire in -98, things calmed down. I had already moved back to England by then but my parents and my younger brother stayed in Northern Ireland.” 

Eve rakes her fingers through her hair, “Dad’s security detail was removed, no more bomb checks or safe houses were needed, the paramilitary groups had given up their weapons and The Maze had been closed. But some people never forgot. And in 2003 a break away paramilitary group broke into my parents home. Dad was away in London on a last minute trip or they would’ve probably only taken him. Instead they took my mother and youngest brother, Edward.”

Eve pauses and takes a deep breath, walking away from the table. “Butcher,” Hughie says, “is this really necessary, how is this relevant?” 

“She’ll tell us and then we’ll know if it’s relevant or not,” Butcher barks, “Go on,” he scowls at Eve. 

“They couldn’t get hold of my father, so they rang me. Told me that I need to get my father over to Ireland within 48 hours or they’d kill them,” Eve clenches her jaw, “They kneecapped my brother while I was on the phone so that I would hear it.” 

Even Butcher winces and MM puts his hand out and squeezes Eve’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, that’s fucked up.” 

“Frenchie,” Hughie whispers, “Kneecapped?”

Frenchie motions putting a gun to Hughie’s knee and pulling the trigger. 

“It’s always been the paras favourite way of punishing people,” Eve says, turning back to the table. 

“I tried going the official way, asking my CO at the time for a team but it was a no go. As far as MI6 was concerned, Northern Ireland and Ireland were off limits. Any operation could potentially derail the peace process. So I went the unofficial route and called in favours. Two of the men I’d served with the previous year came through and we set a trap at the drop off point just across the Irish border. When they came for my father, we wiped them out.” 

“How many?” Butcher asks. 

“Six hostiles, one civilian and one of ours. Jack didn’t make it, I was injured and Cochran pulled me out. He was one of the two with me,” Eve looks over the rest of the team, “Cochran is my Commanding Officer back in London these days.” 

“And your family?” Butcher asks, his voice softer now. 

“They weren’t there. I don’t think the paras meant to hand them over at all. Both my mother and brother were found a day later in a ditch outside Crossmaglen. Kneecapped and executed.”

Eve goes silent, and not even Butcher speaks. 

Eventually Eve draws a deep breath, as if she’s been biting down on tears, and continues, “I was demoted, almost discharged. Spent the next 18 months in rehab, officially, but unofficially I was out in the cold on desk duty sorting paper clips. I was eventually brought back in because there was suddenly a desperate need for operatives who could speak Arabic and Farsi after the July 7th attacks in 2005.” 

MM pushes himself up from the filing cabinet he’s been leaning on, “So, if I’ve got this right, you go off and do your own thing, using MI6 personnel and material I assume, to save your family. One of your men is killed and MI6 finds out about the whole operation and you’re punished, right?”

“Right.” 

“But why is that part censored and how’s it connected to the present day?” 

“To hide my connection to Viscount Torrington, my father. If you don’t know that our family name is Byng, you won’t make the connection. And if you don’t make the connection you won’t question the decision to have an operative with, as you said, skin in the game.” 

She looks over at Butcher, “MI6 doesn’t trust me, they think I’ll treat this as a personal mission again. But Cochran trusts me and the redactions are his way of protecting me.”

“What does MI6 think you’ll do?” he asks. 

“Kill the supe. With your help.” 

“And what does MI6 want you to do?” 

“Capture the supe, bring him back to the UK without letting the CIA get their hands on him.” 

“Million dollar question then, luv,” Butcher grins, “What do you wanna you do?” 

“Kill him,” Eve says flatly. 

“But Cochran is banking on you following MI6 orders?” Butcher crosses his arms and gives Eve a hard look, “You’re gonna betray the trust of the one man at MI6 who’s protecting you? You do that and you’re out of a job, darlin’.” 

“She was my niece and she was eight years old. I want to find the man who did that to her and I want him dead,” Eve says with a determined voice, staring at Butcher. 

“You better fuckin’ mean that, because when we find this cunt, you’d better not get in my way.” 

“Butcher, if I need to, I’m going through you to get him.” 

Chapter 8

[f0point5]

We need a fc for Freddie ASAP, cause I feel like that will resolve so many questions about him. He for sure knows he is below her standards, so he’s trying to ruin her self esteem to get her to fuck/date him.

My mom’s friend once commented on the couple we saw on the street.

Little back story She was so fucking pretty, really put an effort into her appearance, laughing and joking.. She seemed like a really funny, someone cool you’d want to be around. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, didn’t even bother to brush his hair, clothes rumpled, grumpy, mean to her… She was so out of his league, but he had the audacity to check out other girls, IN FRONT OF HER.

Soo, of course we had to comment on it. And she said it’s probably low self esteem, lack of confidence, and that he made her believe he was better than her, and that she should be gratefull he’s even given her a chance.

I think that’s what Freddie is trying to do.

Can’t wait to learn what really happened in Monaco.

I wish her father makes an appearance, fucking destroys Holly and Lauren. Like bankrupt Holly’s agency, take over, renegotiates deal with Lando’s team. I had high hopes for Lauren, but not anymore. At first she seemed like someone who could be an ally If not a friend, but now she’s just an employee doing her job. So when times come, she’ll be treated as such.

I’m kinda afraid of what’s gonna happen in a meeting with Zak. I don’t really care about him IRL, but it’s seems like he won’t be a positive character in this.

Girlie is getting attacked from all sides, and I don’t like it. Really loved Logan detail. It does seem like people always try to connect WAGs to different drivers. Sometimes it is true, they seem to date from the same pool. LOL. But not this time, baby Logie can be a friend.

Next week, I hope we get at least some resolution, couse there are so many unanswered questions.

Btw, Lando did post much more last year, and in real time. But during summer brake, he and his friends got robbed. His friend talked about it on her tiktok. After that he started protecting his privacy better. Posting photo dumps only after he leaves the place, he even stopped posting on his .jpg account for a while.

Hahaha. Freddie will make an appearance and I don’t think he will what people expect….

Yeah guys do do that, I think nowadays they call it “negging”. It’s actually pathetic behaviour. We will see if you agree that’s what Freddie up to…

Lauren is doing her job, Sophie is doing her job, Zak is doing his job, even Holly is just doing her job. I think the problem when you’ve got so many people whose job it is to manage how another person behaves, you do get in these situations whenever you step out of line. Because at the end of the day these people can’t stop doing their jobs to take care of you. They may like you or even care about you in some abstract way but your well-being isn’t their priority. So it sucks to be in that position but from their side it also sucks, it’s like herding cats.

I do remember Lando’s friend Jennie talking about how they got robbed in Ibiza but somehow I didn’t connect that to why he stopped posting so much.

Also tbf when I compare him to Max I remember how much content I was able to get from Kelly’s insta, whereas Lando doesn’t have a gf. I remember Luisa used to share content of him and Kika has Pierre a lot on her insta. So yeah him being single is really not convenient 😂

But yeah I did not appreciate how between Kelly, his jet tracker, his redline streams, and the fact that he makes documentaries about his life, Max Private Man Verstappen actually has a lot of content out there lol

[xeduo]

I’m really sad, there’s been an ongoing series of interpersonal conflicts at my internship that I’m not sure how to interpret, overall. Keep in mind, we had our final team meeting yesterday and next week is our last week here as interns.

I’ve been trying to be really clear on communication and trying to be intentionally considerate of the other interns because not only am I a decade older than most of them, there are 4 of us and I haven’t worked closely with a team in a professional setting in a while (my last position was a very individual role within a broader team where we all had our teaching but we weren’t coordinating teaching with anyone else on the team).

Our individual mid-conference, my boss said that one of the other interns (let’s call them Intern A) said she felt like I was always “doing all of the tasks” and leaving her with none. I felt as though there weren’t enough tasks for 4 interns in general, because despite her feeling that way I felt like I wasn’t doing hardly anything at all. But I took the criticism and since then I’ve been doing even less, and when we get assignment lists I’ve been writing them on the board in our office so I can make sure that I’m not taking more than 1/4 of the total tasks.

To be clear, I am. Incredibly bored.

Then, the other day, when we got tasks, I wrote them all out and waited a few days because I had things I could do instead of the new tasks, then I grabbed what hadn’t been started and started it myself. Again, making sure to not take more than 1/4 of the work, despite the fact that this was at least 2 days into our task cycle and most of the tasks were still up for grabs.

So like Monday morning, a week after I grabbed that task, Intern B came to me and said that Intern C felt like I took that task from her, and she had been planning on doing it. She didn’t post on the group chat or on the whiteboard that she wanted to do it, and it was untouched for 2 days after we mentioned it. I don’t understand why she felt that way, but I apologized and gave her a larger subtask that I had reserved in trade, and I think we smoothed it out.

Then yesterday our boss mentioned that a storage closet could probably be reorganized before we end next week, plus we have paper revisions to do (we wrote an academic paper over the summer and she was going to look at it). Since only Intern B and I are in the office today, I started on the closet and invited them to join me if they felt like it (it’s a mess and really big, so there’s room for all of us if we all want to work on it) and they chose to work on the paper revisions.

We were all planning on working from home tomorrow but I feel like there’s enough closet to be a significant chunk of my next week and I don’t really want to work on the digital stuff, so I texted the group that I was going to go into the office and keep working on the closet, keep the momentum going. And Intern B responded in a grumpy way that there’s time enough for it next week, implying that I should just work from home, which I get but honestly I’ve been so bored it’s nice to just have a thing to do physically.

I’m not sure what to do about all of this. What I’ve found in work before is that people think I “do too much” but I’m just doing things until I’m not bored anymore. I’ve tried really hard with this internship to share tasks and not step on any toes, but it seems like everyone is still annoyed at me for doing too much anyway, again. I was really hoping that based on the level of difficulty for even getting this internship, the attitude would be different and everyone would be a “let’s find something to do” type.

I know I’m probably biasing the narrative here, so I’m sure there’s something I’m missing, but what do you think I should do? It’s only a week and a half more but this has been such a reoccurring thing that I’m very stressed and sad about it.

[rothjuje]

I definitely did not mean to imply that New Englanders are unkind in my last post. I spent 8 years in Texas and I never made a best friend (my TX bff moved there with me from CA). I’ve only known my two bffs here for 6 months and I know we’ll be friends for life. I have 5 friends here that I see on a regular basis, and I haven’t had that since CA.

There is a saying that people here are like jelly beans, hard on the outside but soft once you break through their exterior. I don’t know if I agree with that one, but I do agree with a podcast I heard recently that said that west coasters are nice but not kind and east coasters are kind but not nice. The example they gave was that someone from the west coast would see you struggling with a flat tire and walk on by, saying “I’m so sorry, that sucks, how stressful” while a New Englander would help you change it while talking about how annoying it is. (And people in the south would be so nice about it and offer to help you change it, then tell their friends about the idiot they had to help earlier.)

January 15th marked 6 months in Georgetown. I asked Justin if we could stay in Massachusetts forever and he said probably, depending on job stability/income. Things are going really well at his job, he might get a promotion soon, and he’s getting to travel a lot coming up so he is pretty content. He’s grumpy about the inconvenience and expense of living here, but there are a lot of pros. He has a very east coast personality, and he enjoys that people out here are more proper in their dress and social interactions.

It hasn’t snowed for a week and it’s been such a nice break. Today was warm (50) but the snow didn’t melt all the way which is a little disconcerting. Guess I’ll be seeing snow for a while! It’s not supposed to snow again until next Monday so I should really figure out how to use our snow blower before then. We have yet to have a weather delay day but we have had a weather related early release day and an after school activities canceled day.

Now that I have grocery shopping experience here, Market Basket is hands down the best. Crazy crowded and I will never go on a weekend again, but they have a huge selection, probably more stuff even than Texas grocery stores. What they don’t have our (super expensive) tiny little grocery store has, oddly enough. It works out.

And I also discovered that we have a convenience store open until 10:30 pm! In town! Whattt. Things close so early here, I remember the culture shock when we moved to Texas and grocery stores were only open until midnight. Here they close at 9. NINE.

George had an IEP progress meeting. They’re going to keep him 9-11:30 am M-F until the end of the school year. Their summer program is 8:30-11:30 am M-Th, and in the fall he’ll be full day (9 am- 2 pm). His teachers and therapists are all super sweet and they adore him. Last week George ran to hug his main teacher and didn’t even look back, he’s come such a long way. He hasn’t had a tantrum that lasted for more than two minutes since October. Not even in public places packed with strangers. School has been so good for him and I am so proud of him and how far he’s come in just a few short months.

[tj-crochets]

Every time you post you make me want to make something!! How do you manage to start and finish so many projects constantly? I’m also disabled and its always so hard to find the spoons to finish my projects 😭

I definitely feel you on the difficulty finding spoons thing, I had multiple days this week where I did absolutely no crafting at all because I was just completely out of spoons. This explanation got long, so it's below a read more

For me, crafting is a...I'm not sure how to word it. A load-bearing hobby? Making a physical, tangible object gets me those good "finished task" brain chemicals while at the same time letting me learn a skill (one of my favorite things to do) and ending up with an object that I will probably eventually give to someone (also one of my favorite things to do, matching objects to the people who will love them). If I go too long without crafting I get antsy and grumpy and I get frustrated easily. Other load bearing hobbies for me are reading and making music; too long without any of them and I feel off-balance, metaphorically. I have a variety of crafts I keep supplies for on-hand for different spoon level days; for me crochet takes less spoons than knitting, which takes less spoons than all but the simplest plushie sewing, which takes less spoons than most quilting. There's some differences; plushie making is less physically taxing for me than quilting but takes a lot more focus, so if I'm having a good physical spoons day but a bad mental spoons day I might opt for quilting instead of plushies? The other thing that's helped me a lot is forgiving myself for unfinished projects. I used to feel guilty when I got hung up on a project and couldn't finish it, and I'd struggle through it and not want to craft and it would take forever and I'd be unhappy the entire time, or I'd set it aside and try to make other things but feel guilty the whole time because I thought I should be making something else. These days, I have gotten a lot better at accepting that I have limits, both physical and mental, and it's okay for me to respect them. Not finishing a crafting project is a morally neutral thing; for me, crafts are for enjoying, and if I enjoyed making the part of the project I made then I got something out of it even if I never finish it. I also think no crafting effort is wasted, you'll learn something from it even if all you learn is that you don't like that particular craft. The other other thing that helps me start and finish so many projects so often is that I am lucky enough to be able to keep the basic supplies for a wide variety of projects on hand at all times, so that I can make almost anything as the whim strikes me (like grumpy bunnies this week). I think of it like keeping a stocked pantry as a baker; you might not know what you'll want to make tomorrow, but you know you'll probably need sugar and flour and salt, and as you learn more about baking you can tailor your stock of supplies to what you like to make (for me in sewing, that means keeping a rainbow of minky and some faux fur on hand, so that I have many colors to choose from because I really enjoy working with color. In knitting, it means keeping a particular yarn in any color on hand because I pretty much only knit beanies these days and I don't care what color they are but do care about the yarn. Your "staple supplies" will vary based on your craft, your preferences, your budget, and your storage space, but I absolutely love being able to impulse craft things)