#I’m not gonna question it - just take it as a mental health win and run with it 🤷🏻‍♀��👏🏻

[f1-stuff]

how do you cope with this carlos-hate between the lines here on tumblr? btw love following you for your good vibes and funny tags

Hello, sweet anon ❤️

Tbh some days are harder than others! I like to think I’ve gotten a lot better at simply not logging on when I expect there to be those sorts of posts - also making sure that the blogs I follow are the only ones I wanna see on my tl. Sometimes, like earlier today, I just channel my energy into making gifs and only come on tumblr to post those and leave lol

Obviously, I still see stuff if I go looking in his tag or something slips thru the cracks, and some days I write out a whole rant and then delete it (it can be v therapeutic just to type your feelings, even if you never post it). Also having someone/people who I can talk to about it can be pretty helpful. Or even revisiting a Carlos thing that makes you smile! I’ll sometimes just go thru his tag on my blog and inevitably something silly he did will make me laugh and I feel (mostly) better 😂❤️

Other than that, I think just recognizing that everyone’s opinions are just that - opinions! Pro sports is one of the areas in life that people can be the most opinionated/vocal/vitriolic about online but it’s bc it inspires such passion in people. Personally, I like to channel my passion for f1 in positive ways - it makes me a happier person and it’s the whole ‘be the change you want to see’ in the fandom philosophy haha

I hope some of this is helpful ❤️ you can always come to me if you’re needing someone to talk to or wanna just toss something in my inbox to take your mind off of things!

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Angel (Ages 5-13)

Points in time through your friendship with Bakugou, from its beginning, to its transformation into love, to its demise. Inspired by Angel Pt. 2 by Fast and Furious (feat. Jimin)

Word Count: 2,655

CW: mentions of injury, some violence less than canon-typical though, reader uses female pronouns, hurt/no comfort, angst angst angst, mental health struggles, mentions of self-hatred

Part Two | BHNA Masterlist | Blog Navigation

When you were five years old you and Bakugou lay sprawled on soft green grass. You closed your eyes, the fading sunlight painted the inside of your eyelids a pinkish orange. Inhaling deeply, you enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the moment.

Just minutes ago, Bakugou had declared the trek up the hill a race and shot in front of you, determinedly pumping his legs in an effort to win. Screeching that it wasn’t fair, that he got a head start, you raced after him, catching him just in time to tie. The buzz of cicadas filled the heavy summer air swirling languidly through your neighborhood; the quiet soundtrack of summer.

Fluffy clouds painted pink and orange in the light of the sunset drifted high above you in the sky. At your young age this was the happiest you had ever been. After a long day filled with squeals of laughter, and getting into mischief with your best friend you were exhausted, but content. Suddenly feeling sentimental, you rolled over and poked your friend’s shoulder. Said his name once to make sure you got his attention.

And on the evening of that perfect summer day you extended your pinky and interlocked it with Bakugou’s, forever sealing the promise the two of you made.

“Hey, we’ll always be this happy, right? We’ll always be best friends.” 

“Tch. What, are you stupid? Of course we will. From now to forever.”

When you were seven years old the two of you had already made plans to become heroes and open your own agency together. And to Bakugou being a hero meant beating up any and all bad guys. Always winning the fight. Some boys stole your lunch money? Well then they were villains, and he had no choice but to take them on. So what if they were a few grades older than you? They were thieves and had to be punished. If he didn’t put them in their place, how could he call himself a hero? 

Walking across the uneven gray concrete behind the school, he approached the group of older boys and gave them his signature look. A promise of violence gleamed in his ruby red eyes as a cocky smirk pulled at the baby fat still adorning his cheeks. Calling out to the extras he got their attention before charging at them, sparks flashing in his palms.

When you found him later his clothes were disheveled but a look of smug satisfaction was painted across his face. Rushing over, you check him for injuries, brushing the dust and dirt off him and straightening his clothes. Other than a small red scrape on his cheek from skidding across the concrete and little burns on his wrists where the sparks from his quirk had burned him he appeared mostly unharmed. Suspecting the answer to your question but still needing to confirm your suspicions you demand that he tell you what happened. With an air of arrogance, he regales you with his tale of victory over the evil extras, hamming it up to impress you, carefully watching your reaction as he recounts his story.

After he finishes the tale, you sigh and tell him you wish he would be more careful. But he saw the admiring sparkle in your eyes as he told his tale. He knows that deep down you were impressed. And that’s enough for him. 

“You really need to think more often before you charge in.”

“As if, I’m gonna be the strongest, remember? No extra is ever gonna take me down.”

When you were nine years old it had become a running joke in the Bakugou family that you were ‘Katsuki’s angel.’ And although he always protested and fake gagged when his parents called you that, inside he secretly liked the idea that you and him were meant to be together. The first time Mitsuki called you Katsuki’s angel, it was Katsuki’s birthday, and Mitsuki was trying to wrangle him into a custom made suit jacket she had designed especially for him. Chasing him around the house screaming obscenities and calling him an ungrateful brat she tried to force him into his gift. Katsuki had been screaming back at his mother, hurdling over comfortable yet tasteful couches and using his quirk to evade her every movement. Then you walked in, and the second he noticed you Katsuki skidded to a halt, clamping his mouth shut at your disapproving look. 

Walking over to him, you cuffed him on the ear and firmly told him that he shouldn’t call his mother an old hag, and that he should be grateful she went out of her way to make such a nice present for him. Opening his mouth to retort, all it took was one disappointed glance from you and he was turning to face his mother. Grumpily he muttered out a half-assed apology and allowed himself to be tucked into the perfectly tailored jacket. It was a smooth, rich, smoky gray with orange embroidered accents. Honestly it was so nice it seemed a little obscene to give as a gift to an unappreciative nine year old. But you were entranced by it.

Stepping closer to Katsuki, you couldn’t help but run your hands over the front of his jacket, marveling at the texture and the intricate work of the embroidery. Not noticing the pink flush that tinted Katsuki’s cheeks, you ran your hands along his chest admiring the jacket. “It’s so pretty.” You muttered it quietly under your breath, but Mitsuki heard it. Perking up, she announced that she was so glad that you liked it, because she had a matching dress made for you! Surprise!

Quickly waving your hands and telling her that she didn’t need to do that, protesting that you couldn’t accept a gift that nice (your parents had raised you to be a polite young woman, and while they failed in most regards you had still managed to retain some manners) and that she should give it to someone else. Insisting that the only person the dress was meant for was you, Mitsuki dragged you upstairs and gently helped you into it. It was a lighter shade of gray than Katsuki’s suit, and the accents were a paler shade of orange, closer to the color of the sunset than a violent shade of neon orange, but it was undeniably a match to Katsuki’s jacket. 

Self-conscious because it was your first time wearing something that luxurious, you anxiously asked Mitsuki if she was sure she was okay with you having it. Reassuring you that she had made it for you and that you looked beautiful she led you downstairs and called for her son, asking him what he thought of it. 

Stomping angrily out of the other room and demanding to know what was so important he stopped when he saw you, his eyes softening as he gaped. Looking down, you nervously played with the hem of your new dress. When he didn’t say anything, you apologized, saying that it wasn’t right for you to match with him because it was birthday and you didn’t want to take any attention away from him. Turning, you began walking up the stairs but paused when you heard him speak. Quieter than you had ever heard him speak before, he told you that he didn’t care about stupid things like matching, and that it suited you. The last part was spoken in a near whisper, then he scoffed and stormed away, loudly griping about how annoying all the females in his life are.

Later that night when Mitsuki was talking to Masaru, she mentioned Katsuki’s behavior towards you. Recounting the events, she wondered about his change of attitude when it came to you, pondering aloud if perhaps you were some sort of angel sent to make their son behave. Unbeknownst to her, Katsuki had been coming downstairs for a glass of water and heard everything, quietly sitting on the stairs eavesdropping as he wondered what the strange feeling inside his chest was.

“I’m telling you,He was gentle! I’ve never seen our son so sweet and well-behaved. It’s like she’s his own personal angel, sent to make him behave!”

Hm. His own personal angel…well, you were a little too aggressive and sarcastic to be considered an angel, but for some reason the idea of you being his angel pleased him.

When you were eleven years old you asked Bakugou to stop fighting your fights for you. When you were younger, you held your own against anyone who came your way, but as the two of you grew up he became more and more protective until it got to the point he was fighting all your fights for you, not allowing you to intervene. What he didn’t realize was that having an explosive guard dog at you back 24/7 only made things worse for you. For one thing, it made you feel bad about yourself. All your life you had prided yourself on being strong, a bit of a wild child, and a lot more rough and tumble than the other girls your age. While the other girls your age had pretend tea parties and played with dolls you wrestled with the boys in the grass, often beating them. But when Bakugou fought for you he made you feel weak, like he didn’t believe you could hold your own when you knew you could.

In your opinion, every pair of pants with the knees ripped, every callous, every scrape and cut, every grass stain and bloody nose was a mark of pride. It was a mark of your strength, a sign that even the boys couldn’t beat you. Screw the patriarchy! But your female classmates disagreed. They would gossip about you in loud stages whispers as you walked by, wondering if you were even a girl, and that it was no wonder you were friends with all the boys with that haircut. You looked exactly like one of them. 

When Bakugou caught wind of it, he wasted no time giving each of them the verbal beatdown of their lives, unaware that one of them was the younger sister of an eighth grader. After the humiliating experience she had gone to her older brother, and now some older boys were constantly harassing you, shoving you around and mocking you. Your pride didn’t permit you to tell Bakugou, and honestly you saw this as a perfect opportunity to prove your own strength not just to everyone else, but to yourself as well. But before you could confront the group of boys, Bakugou caught wind of the bullying and was demanding to know why you didn’t tell him.

Bluntly, you told him it was because you wanted to take care of it yourself without him. A little stung, he asked why you wouldn’t let him help you. Was it because you thought he wasn’t strong enough? Exasperated, you explained that no, it wasn’t because you thought he was weak, but because he was treating you like you were weak. 

While he understood what you were saying, and felt guilty for making you feel that way, he still demanded to at least be present when you took on the boys. You were okay with it, as long as he promised to not get involved. With a little smirk, he agreed, saying his only intention was to watch his best friend kick some ass. 

And true to his word, he sat on the sidelines, not getting involved. Although, he was the loudest one cheering you on as you wiped the floor with those assholes.

“What? You didn’t think a girl could beat you up? Huh? Speak up.”

“Hell yeah! That’s my best friend. Get ‘em! Punch his teeth in!”

When you were thirteen, you were truly disappointed and angry with Katsuki for the first time in your ten years of friendship. For years, there had been tension between you and him about the way he treated Izuku, someone the two of you had been friends with since you were small. While Katsuki went out of his way to be cruel and derogatory towards Izuku because he was quirkless, you remained good friends with Izuku, often sticking up for him.

That cruel behavior had been the cause of many arguments between the two of you as you tried to understand why he treated Izuku the way he did. You knew that Katsuki was a good person, and while he was your best friend and you wanted to always support him, you couldn’t condone his behavior. This created a weird limbo where you helped Izuku out as much as possible while at the same time giving Katsuki space in regards to the matter, hoping he would eventually work out whatever was obviously going on inside of his head. But no more.

You had been waiting for Katsuki at your usual spot, ready to walk home together but ten minutes had passed and you were impatient so you went to find him. Walking through the clean well-lit halls of your school you headed to his homeroom, stopping when you heard his voice. Assuming that he was just having a conversation with his friends, you marched into the classroom fully prepared to drag him out because you wanted to go home-but nothing could have prepared you for hearing Katsuki tell Izuku to take a swan dive off a building and pray he had a quirk in his next life.

Frozen, you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Because there was no way that Katsuki -your Katsuki- had said something that vile. But he had, and seconds after the ugly, vicious words had spilled from his lips your hand came into contact with the side of his face with a harsh resounding smack. Hand flying up to cup his smarting cheek, he looked at you in shock. Not expecting you to continue, he wasn’t fast enough to block the unforgiving knee you crashed into his ribcage, nor the fist you sent flying at his face. He staggered back, coughing as blood dripped from his nose. Snapping his head up prepared to scream at you, he stopped short at the look on your face. You were looking at him like you didn’t recognize him, disgust and anger painted clear across your pretty features. 

Not even bothering to speak to him, you turned and walked over to Izuku, quietly asking him if he was okay. You helped him gather up his stuff, packing his backpack and retrieving his notebook from where Katsuki had sent it flying. Slinging an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, you walked with him out of the classroom, straight past the shell-shocked Katsuki, not even sparing him a glance. 

Later that night when Katsuki stormed over to your house to “apologize,” you were cold, and laid down an ultimatum: decide between being an insecure asshole, and being your friend. As long as he treated Izuku that way you wouldn’t and couldn’t support him. For the first time since the promise you made when you were five, Katsuki was worried about the state of your friendship. So, he managed to somewhat pull it together, ignoring Izuku for the rest of eighth grade instead of tormenting him. But he would never forget the feeling of your anger and fists being turned on him, or the look of pain and disgust you had leveled at him. No. That look was forever ingrained in his memories, reminding himself why he had to be better. He had to be a person worthy of your friendship and affection.

“‘M sorry I guess. Don’t know why you would pick that quirkless loser over me though.”

“This. This is my problem. Get out of my house. Get out of my house and stay out until you can figure out how to be a decent human being. Until then, stay the hell away from me.”

Alright! That's part one! Let me know if you want to be tagged in part two!

[au-mashup-party]

Hey I have an announcement I would like to make, I know it’s not what you’re normally expecting, but I just wanna get this off my chest. Lately I’ve been dealing with a lot of mental health issues in and out of Tumblr, some too personal to talk about, so I’ll leave it with how I been feeling about Tumblr.

I always found drawing as a great stress reliever. Whenever I’d post a drawing and it will receive up 50 likes at the most, it would always put the biggest smile on my face. My art style improved by a mile, yet it still feels like I’m falling behind my mutual peers.

I learned the hard way while using Tumblr that if you’re not considered ‘popular’ from the get-go, you’re much out of luck. Art takes time, years even, and I’ve been drawing for 15 of em so I would know that sometimes you gotta work with what you got—even if it’s not a lot.

I’ve known some people who’s gotten famous within a day or two, I always found it impressive as heck and wondered if it was possible for me. However, lately I’ve been questioning myself about a few things:

“Is my art style the problem?”

“Should I start posting more on this blog?”

“Are my friends and fans, losing interest?”

“Have I’ve been gone too long?”

“Should I just quit?”

“Should I bring Micro back?”

“Am I too underrated for this fandom?”

And these questions stuck with me for a few months, I’ve noticed things haven’t been the most exciting on my blog since I stopped drawing Microtale content, which to be honest was the only reason I got noticed in the first place. The truth was I slowly lost interest in Microtale after getting spammed over and over and over again while wanting to take a break from drawing him.

Sadly, there’s still one person in my asks that just can’t accept that i’ve moved on from Micro. Now don’t get me wrong, I will always appreciate how far Micro has gotten me these past 3 years and I won’t forget him. I still have plans for Microtale’s third year anniversary, but anything revolving the AU I just won’t be working on anymore

Where it all began.

When I first created Micro, I didn’t think I was gonna get very far, in my eyes he was just your typical lazy run of the mill ‘Sans OC’. I made the blog for fun at first because I figured “Hey, at least if this doesn’t blow up, I can have my underrated artist use him for their stories as long as they credited!”

Little did I know, that was only the beginning. I got noticed by a popular artist at the time, and I was overjoyed to find out that someone far superior than me in drawing liked my silly old drawing. It made me realize that not all popular artist are drama baiting, narcissistic human beings. It opened my eyes more meeting even more humble artists.

The more I made, the more my audience grew. When I reached 1000 followers last year, it was the best day of my life. I finally reached my goal and everything was good. After I stopped drawing him I got spammed constantly by an unknown person (forgot their name) asking if their character can meet Micro or if Micro could come back sooner than later.

Anyone who’s known me long enough knows I hate being spammed, it’s not gonna get your point across, point blank period. It’s my blog and I’m allowed to draw whoever I want, it’s not up to you to decide what content I make unless I decide we vote by poll. But after deleting the spamming one day, eventually things cooled down so I moved on too.

You’re allowed to like my AU’s, just please don’t shove your obnoxious opinions down my throat. I already have a lot going on and I don’t need anyone adding more pressure to the plate.

But let’s take a quick moment to appreciate underrated artists, they are the future of the art community and don’t get enough appreciation for their work. I myself am still somewhat underrated, and I’m okay with that now. You win some you lose some, but you have to draw another day.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, have a good day/night.

-Crayon

[notanotherreidgirl]

I just had an idea based on my recent health experience: What if Spence had to wear a Holter for 24 or 72 hours to measure his heart's activity (maybe as part of the FBIs health checks) ? And he has to take notes of everything he does so that they can match it with the information collected so he cannot have sex or masturbate unless he's willing to justify his increased heart activity to a team of doctors. So, reader being reader, decides to drive him nuts, teasing him again and again because she knows he can't do anything about it. (Does he end up cumming in his pants because he's trying so hard not to touch himself and increase his heart rate?) ☺️🥰

Love ya! Have a great day!

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, edging, blowjob, grinding, coming in pants

Word Count: 1380 (i'm inclined to just call this a full fic)

A/N: First, an apology. This has been in my inbox for quite a while and I am very sorry about the wait. Secondly, I made this entire scenario up after doing some minimal research on Holter monitors so it might not make sense.

Spencer gave Hotch’s door a light tap before taking a deep breath and then giving two sharp knocks. “Come in”

The door swung open and Derek patted him on the shoulder with a smile as he exited, no doubt having just received a glowing report regarding his physical health. Spencer dropped into the seat, casting a quick glance at the team of health professionals on Hotch’s couch and immediately regretting it. They were very clinical looking - pressed white lab coats, hair combed and gelled back, clipboards piled with papers, already scribbling away and speaking among themselves in hushed voices. “Ok Dr. Reid, we just have a few questions to ask you regarding your health practices and then we’ll take a look at the results from the Holter Monitor. Is that alright?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, that’s fine” he glanced over at Hotch who was leafing through Spencer’s notes with a raised eyebrow. The first few questions about his diet and lifestyle practices were easy but then came the dreaded evaluation of the Holter measurements. “Now we just have a few questions about some of the readings from the Holter. I see there was a bit of a spike right after you put it on that you attributed to nerves?”

“O-oh uh yeah, I was just a little nervous about having it on. That was it.” But that wasn’t the exact truth.

---

You had Spencer sit cross-legged on the bed without his shirt when he came home with the Holter. He was explaining how it worked as you studied the diagram detailing how to put it on. You slipped the wearable recording device over his head and climbed into his lap, surreptitiously rocking your hips into his as you untangled the wires. His hands encircled your waist, adjusting your angle so your clothed core ran against his entire length. You attached the electrodes carefully, kissing each patch of skin before covering it. His breath came out in soft pants as his release mounted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was about to come, you clicked the machine on and his eyes flew open.

“Wait, Y/N! I can’t - I’m supposed to keep my heart rate down.” The panic in his voice was evident and you smirked. If there was one thing you knew about Spencer it was that he liked succeeding. One might even say he liked winning - 3 Ph.Ds, prolific poker player, unsubs behind bars - so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that he was keen on passing his health evaluation. You trailed a hand down his chest, feeling the pounding heart he was trying to calm with deep breaths. “If you say so, doc”

---

The evaluator’s next question snapped him from his reverie. “That sounds fine but there was a concerning increase in your heart activity at 2 AM. It says here that you were exercising, specifically sprinting?”

Spencer dropped the pen he had been twirling and dove under his chair to get it. “Ah yes, I - uh - those are my nightly sprints.”

If Hotch’s eyebrows went up any farther they’d disappear in his hairline. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation when he spotted your face peeking out through an opening in his office blinds. You darted away quickly, sprinting back to your desk. Meanwhile, Spencer mentally chastised himself for his lack of self-restraint, saying that he was doing sprints at 2 AM was stupid but it was the only thing he could think of that could somewhat explain his elevated heart rate without revealing his actual activities.

---

He couldn’t sleep with the monitor on, tossing and turning in your arms until he rolled onto his back and let out a frustrated huff. You sleepily propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

He scooted in closer, curling his body into yours and burying his face into your tits. He whined, “Can’t sleep with this thing on me”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to make you feel better?” You dipped a hand down the front of his pajama pants and he automatically pressed his hips forward, used to you soothing him in this way after nightmares. He was already half-hard and you stroked him softly before sliding down the bed. His whimpers at the loss of your breasts exploded into loud moans as you swallowed his length, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and sucking at the tip before taking him back into your throat. Usually, you would take your time but you were feeling particularly wicked tonight, bringing a hand up to cradle his balls as the other forced his wild hips down onto the bed. Once again you pulled away just as his orgasm began to materialize and he threw his head back against the pillows, whines devolving into a choked sob. “We wouldn’t want to mess up your Holter results, now would we?”

Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

---

“Well Dr. Reid, this kind of activity is most unusual and frankly quite concerning. Your heart rate even shot up right before you returned the monitor which you again attributed to nerves.” Spencer’s face reddened as he recalled the events that transpired that morning.

---

He was pacing down a vacant hallway in the basement of the Bureau, willing his nerves away. He was sure he would fail. Could you even fail one of these evaluations? Probably. If anyone could fail it would be Spencer. Between the events of the last 24 hours and the fact that Derek was going right before him, he knew he was screwed. And then as if the universe were conspiring against him there you were coming out of the printer room, heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying, a form-fitting blouse leaving just enough to the imagination. And Spencer had a very vivid imagination. Watching you float towards him was really all it took to have him standing at attention, heart rate skyrocketing. But you were ever the overachiever, threading his tie between your fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. Your knee came up between his legs and he automatically rocked into you, still worked up from your relentless denial. You ran your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and applying even more pressure. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Trying your very hardest to control yourself. It’s adorable.”

It didn’t even occur to Spencer that he had to return the monitor along with his notes in less than 10 minutes, he was cumming in his pants as soon as the praise left your lips, whining into your mouth as he finally attained his long-awaited release. He looked down at you in shock as you stepped back. “Shit, Y/N! What do I do? They’re gonna call me up in 5 minutes!”

You gave him a mocking look of sympathy as you smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Guess you better get cleaned up then”

---

“Dr. Reid, I’d like to see you again for a follow-up.” The doctor on the left scribbled their name on the bottom of a form and handed it to Spencer. He gave the paper a quick glance before looking over at Hotch with wide eyes. Help me.

Hotch sighed, taking the form from Spencer and giving it a quick scan before returning it to the evaluation team. “As we know, Dr. Reid has had a tumultuous history with these physical assessments. However, he is an invaluable member of this team and has proven himself in the field time and time again. I don’t see any reason to prolong this evaluation. Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe Dr. Reid was your last appointment of the day”

They protested but Hotch fixed them with his trademark stare and they stood up to leave. “Very well, but Dr. Reid will not be exempt from his yearly fitness test this time.”

Spencer gulped, watching them file out the room. He turned to Hotch thanking him as he took his file and turned to leave, glad it was over. But before he could leave, Hotch cleared his throat. “I take it Y/N will be helping you train for your fitness test”

[behindyourbarrette]

like you a latte - matcha latte

← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed

—

Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons. 

You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?

Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn. 

It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.

There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.

“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.

“What can I get you guys?”

Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.

“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.

“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.

“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn. 

Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick. 

“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response. 

JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over. 

“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind. 

“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.

“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.

“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.

You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.

“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.

“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.

“Do you want to go into criminal law?”

JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.

“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”

The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.

“Hey.”

You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.

“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.

“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.

“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.” Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.

“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.” You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation. 

“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”

This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.

“I just wanted you to know.” 

You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.

“I know.” Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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[black-coffee-and-sugar]

Listen, I actually couldn't finish this episode. Like I lost brain cells, got ingestion and finally KO-ed because I could NOT grasp the plot. Not even seeing Lena again made this enjoyable for me. But here's what I got:

- I wonder how many takes Thomas took to say Nxyly's full name without biting his tongue off

- also I am so sorry Thomas that they had you sing. And yet somehow that wasn't the most cringe thing to happen in this episode

- Nia and Kara desperately assigning blame to themselves instead of just, idk, working together to fix the problem. Who cares who's fault it is??

- Alex jumping in front of kara when mxy brandishes the PZ projector is the only thing I liked

- Kelly's absence felt so odd after 2 back to back episodes of her front and centre

- Nia thinking that Kara would drag her for making a mistake makes me wonder if these characters even know each other

- kara: "I should've told you guys about Nxyly". Yes you idiot you absolutely should have! Like I get that they don't wanna bring it up but like how is ignoring what happened to her any better? Do they not do any Intel sharing?

- the fucking zookeeper is still here?!?!?

- look I wasn't expecting Lena to be talking to kara on the phone, I know better than that, but I had hoped it would at least be Nia considering that Lena and her have been bonding over their moms and it just makes sense??

- andrea's titty window sans kara or Lena to see it. What was it all for?

- I understand Lena using Andrea's resources to help her out and shit and I'm actually surprised the writer's remembered she doesn't have access to the LuthorCorp jet anymore. I honestly wouldn't have batted an eye if she did tho.

- the way we haven't had ANY scenes of dialogue between kara and lena aside from 6x01 and only ONE line from kara to Lena since then. Like are they actually going to brush everything under the goddamn rug? We heard from Alex that they've forgiven each other and it seems that way too but we haven't actually had the chance to judge that as an audience and it's (checks notes) 11 episodes already???

-Kara is back and yet Lena doesn't seem full. Kara is back and yet she hasn't been vulnerable with lena or with anyone really. Or was that all a lie?

- Nxyly is actually kinda hot in this episode. Interesting development there

- the team actually fighting a giant pussy cat and more brain cells have died. If they were hoping it would be amusing like the Legends fighting a giant Beebo, spoiler alert - it was not

- mxy and Nxyly and even the king has some keysmash names but one imp is actually named Jared? Just fucking Jared. Christ

- Lena being bullied by a bunch of Canadians is hilarious and I say this as a Canadian. Like Lena has stood her ground against Lex, Lillian, SG, an interrogation room filled with judgemental pricks, fucking Reign and yet, she looked two seconds from crying when denied her hotel room by some fucking Newfies. Get the fuck outa here.

- not a single Tim Hortons run in this entire episode. Are we sure she even went to Canada???

- at one point, I was rooting for Nxyly to win.

- so not only did they bring back that god awful wig that they actually had the audacity to make footage with it? That thing needs to be snatched and thrown into the sun like the trash monster.

- Katie looked so done in this episode and I don't even blame her. I suffered second hand embarrassment on her behalf. Those lines, her behaviour. It's like what the fuck happened to the Lena from the past 4 seasons?

- the mean bartender says "I've seen you on the news running arm in arm with a bulletproof alien" and the places my mind went is probably why I didn't pay any attention to the rest of the episode.

- so lemme see if I have this right. Lena's mom visits the cave lady in her dreams but never once thought to visit her traumatized little daughter?

- am I supposed to be upset that they killed an abuser? Because I'm not

- so much porn shots of the town car driving up and down some sketch and lonely road

- did Google maps really lead Lena to some random cave?? Bruh

- Lena's scenes felt so disconnected for a minute I thought I was watching a completely different show.

- aluminum foil on the props lord did they just say fuck it and made a Dollarama run for the cheapest 200ft roll they could buy?

- Kara being a mentor to Nia for the first time since that Nia centric episode last season. God I hate it here.

- they do remember J'onn is a shape shifter right? Why do we need an image inducer? I get the little Lena is still with the team crumb but it's stupid.

- still no word on M'gann huh

- yo since the Luthors are technically perceived on Earth-Prime as "good", what trail of bodies is this bar lady talking about? This isn't public knowledge and Lena's mom only killed 1 dude who frankly deserved it.

- sigh. We're really doing this witch Lena thing then.

- kara stop trying to reach the good in people! Just stop. When has this bullshit EVER WORKED? Some people are just too far gone. Accept it.

- stronger together has truly lost meaning on this show

- Alex and Kara being so willing to hold much less use the PZ projector is utter bullshit. Also they just have that thing lying around for any grabby hands to take?

- what the actual fuck is Kara's arc this season? Or Alex? Or poor J'onn. The man has been seriously neglected.

- kara is supposed to be the most powerful being on the planet and yet this show continues to nerf her abilities. God I missed the days of S1 when Kara looked like she could fuck shit up.

- also when is kara going to be the focus of her own show again? Are we ever going to properly address Kara's issues? We got two episodes of James processing his trauma and only 5 mins of flashbacks in 6x08 for Kara and a few fleeting moments sprinkled across the last 5 seasons. Ridiculous. Like it won't diminish her as a character to seek professional help, it won't make her any less of a hero. Think of how impactful that would be and the message that could send about the importance of mental health.

- glad to see a promo for this important episode next week (I honestly can't wait - Kelly in a head wrap is so personal to me y'all) but please I'm begging you, do not make the issue of race come at the expense of kara's intelligence and awareness. She's a journalist, she's seen xenophobia and written about it, she's been friends with James for years. Kara knows about racism. Please show that.

Needless to say I did not enjoy this episode at all. I was happy to see Lena again but all her scenes were just hard to watch. I feel like so much of their very limited time is being wasted and there's still so many things they haven't touched upon yet. When exactly are we gonna get to it? Better question, will we ever get to it? Probably not.

Like I wanted to see the super friends communicating, leaning on each other, character growth, being truly stronger together but no. They're giving us literally anything but that and it's frustrating.

[awake-dearheart]

it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him. 

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health. 

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself. 

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise. 

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong. 

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out. 

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle. 

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him.  his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado. 

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people. 

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

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

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

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

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

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

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

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

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

[pyroclaststan]

CW: This is the softest shit I’ve ever written

You’d asked Kingsley to come over and do your hair as a joke [mostly]. You knew they were hesitant to be in your space on the best of days, and almost always avoidant of any kind of touch or personal interactions on any given day. It was made very clear very early on in your friendship how high Chrysanta’s walls are but it’s always made you try harder, tease more, push often—never too much.

Not out of disrespect for their boundaries, but because it was also made very clear early on in your friendship that they had no friends, and if there was one thing you could say Kingsley needed in this world it’s friends. Maybe also someone to pry the stick up their ass loose, too, but even your hero self can’t work miracles.

And here they are: ringing your doorbell, hood up over that ratty cap you’re dying to throw away, feet shuffling, and a bag over their shoulder. Maybe the look on your face as you opened the door shouldn’t have been such a cross between excited and shocked, because they flinch immediately upon seeing you stand in the doorway, arms held wide.

“Do you want me to w-wait until you get dressed to come back?” they ask, looking pointedly away towards the bottom of the stairs for someone tailing them.

A mental note to figure out what’s up with the ‘who’ of that situation one day, but for now you take a look down at yourself. Gym shorts and a tank top: who knew they were such a prude? You that’s who, but only when they are outside of their uniform and around you it seems. That’s why you chose to ditch the sweatshirt you’d had on before answering the door… and it’s also the height of summer in this godforsaken city.

“What do you mean?” you cross your arms and tilt your head, playing innocent, making sure your braid falls over your shoulder. “I’m in my own home, firstly, and secondly: I am clothed. Not all of us need to be covered head-to-toe with eighty layers in this heat.”

They shuffle again, and you know the hand that isn’t holding the strap of their duffle bag is in their jacket’s pocket doing their tell: the clenching and unclenching of long, strong hands; vascular and calloused, often bloodied or bruised at the knuckles but still beautiful in their rough way. You squeeze your eyes to cut that random thought right there, disguising it as a reaction to the intense orange-toned daylight bleeding into your cool apartment.

“Chrysantamum, get the hell inside: looking at you is making me overheat,” you chide playfully, pulling them in by the strap of their bag and catching them off-guard, so much so they half-stumble through your front door, ducking lower than even they need to.

Jodidamente gigante…

Pink cheeks are quickly hidden as they reach up to pull their hat down lower, head bent in attempted irritation. Closing the door and setting the lock as they walk past, you watch as their back hunches so much that it makes you worry about their spinal health, and not for the first time.

“Jules, you can, uh, you can just say ‘come in’ like a normal person,” they huff, removing their bag from their shoulder but keeping it in hand.

“I could, but when have you ever accepted an invitation of mine?” The gaze you direct at them is cutting: visual representation of all the times you’ve extended your courtesy and company only for them to shut you down, cold and completely.

And speaking of cold, is that a bead of sweat on King’s face? You figured they were immune to the heat: they’ve never been about anything but dark colours and multiple layers.

Maldito lagarto gigante. You know, you didn’t curse nearly as much before you two became friends. Not as creatively either.

“That’s… fair,” their shoulders sag, defeated by their own admission and unaware of their agreement to your internal insult. You win two in one. “I should’ve expected you to get h-handsy anyway. You’re tactile.”

“I’m tactile? How many times are you gonna squeeze that hand of yours?”

They freeze at your smug face, hand immediately retreating from their pocket and down to their side like they’ve been caught red-handed. Anathema used to keep a tally of how often they did that but the whiteboard turned black.

A small sigh escapes your lips as you step past them to head towards the couch: neutral territory that keeps you from crowding King until they relax. You know the drill by now. “Oh! And you know the rules: no hats on indoors.”

“W-what?” it’s almost a whine. “I always wear a hat when I’m with you guys.”

“That’s at HQ—this is a home, Sidestep, it’s basic etiquette. Were you raised in a barn?”

“On a farm,” they murmur, giving in to your request. They’re a little bit of a shit from time to time, but they’ve always been respectful of basic manners in private—raised right by someone at some point, you suppose. You’ve always noticed how well they set a table, pull out a chair, take a coat. Classic manners instilled young, that much you can tell.

There’s a coat hook that you put up on the wall recently—for them—and after setting their bag by their feet, their top two jackets adorn it. A bomber and an all-weather? They had to be boiling walking out there. That ratty cap is pulled off and placed over them, too, so you watch as they take down their thick curly-coily hair, swiftly collecting strays back into the bun to no avail. Fidgeting begins once they’re done and realise there’s nothing to thread their hair through, unused to being uncovered.

“How do you not melt out there?” you ask in disbelief, fanning yourself dramatically. “Can you seriously not just put on a single t-shirt, like a regular person?”

“I like the weight.” It’s a short tone that tells you that string of questioning is closed, and instead their focus goes to taking off their shoes and setting them down neatly below their jackets, heels against the wall as a sign they’re staying.

Deliberate motions, unsure emotions.

“Sure, okay.” Leaning far to your left you pat the seat of the couch three times, signalling them to sit their ass down which they do slowly, taking their bag back into their hands.

It settles into their lap as you sit back and watch them: eyes running all over—casing for exits—and hands fidgeting nervously. Inviting them over always feels like entering a kennel pen with the way you have to sit back and wait for them to settle into your space with you, but you’re used to it. It’s kind of endearing, really… in some kind of vigilant way you can’t quite explain. Or at least, it’s become endearing. Traitorous eyes once again find themselves settled on Kingsley’s hands.

“What do you want?”

You startle, face flushing at the thought that they caught you staring and got annoyed, but when you look up they’re still staring straight ahead. This is an opportunity to take in their profile, always having been drawn to their sharp jaw and the pronounced line of their cheekbone since they’ve been unmasked—tracking the cloud of freckles on their skin and some faint scars here and there. Counting the numerous ball hoop earrings that cover the entire edge of their ear, you’re reminded of your old therapy tricks, the calm helping as you quickly gather your composure. Keeps you cool and sane while they become a ball of unrest.

Five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste—or whatever combination works best for your surroundings. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed that trick.

Realisation hits that they’re still expecting a response.

“What are my options?” you tease in a soft flirty tone you can’t fight; teasing them is just so second nature nowadays.

King sits a little straighter as they pick up your double meaning, then cover their face by leaning forward into their propped-up palm as if bored—fooling no one in the room. You know they’re anything but bored by how their fingers tap, and soon the leg starts bouncing just as you knew it would.

“That’s up to you th-this time. Just don’t pick anything that’ll have your PR team suing me or breathing down my neck. Remember when, uh, when you dyed it blue?”

“It was temporary!”

“And they still freaked.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you concede with a pout. Not as much freedom as you’d like has came of your stint in the Rangers so far. Sure, you can walk, you can fight, you can muck around to your heart’s content, but you’re still on a leash. One that you’ll be expected to pay off. “I don’t know—I didn’t really plan on you actually showing up.”

A quick frown in your direction. “Gracias por el voto de confianza, polla.”

Okay, geez, so you both rubbed off on each other.

“No offence!” you put your hands up as a gesture of peace. “You just don’t like coming around.”

“I’m not used to coming around,” Kingsley corrects, looking at you, “I like coming around...”

As they trail off your heart leaps at that; your stomach flips, you’re about to respond when—

“…you’ve got A/C” they finish, turning their head, smiling that dammed crooked smile at their own joke.

There’s a quiet huff from you that mimics theirs as your ego deflates a little. That was a jab in true Sidestep fashion, sure, but you can’t help but feel a little… disappointed.

Sidestep—Kingsley, King, Chrysantamum—is looking at you expectantly now. “Well?”

“Dealer’s choice,” you get up, looking anywhere else as you pace. Can’t stand sitting this still this long much less with their gaze on you.

The sound of them lifting off the couch quickly stops you in your tracks.

“What? Y-you’re just gonna let someone do whatever they want to your hair?”

“Not ‘someone,’ you—I’m letting you do whatever you want to it. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair!” they exclaim walking fiercely up the edge of your personal space, surprising both of you. They take a long step back, a pause of quiet as they collect themself and stand straight, making them taller. “Hair is… it’s personal. It’s…” a look of discomfort as they trial off, “intimate.”

You didn’t expect this: for them to get some up-in-arms about hair of all things. Looking at theirs, for the first time you start to think about all the work that goes into those long curls. The care, the maintenance, the time. Cultural and personal significance as well, you assume.

You smile with a softness that melts through you, “That’s why I asked you to do it.”

The look that passes over their face is the closest thing to affection you’ve ever seen. There is sorrow in their brow, but the tiny smile on their lips and the way they hold eye contact with you says… everything. Then it’s gone as quick as it came, eyes averted, hands pulling at the sleeves of their hoodie, their feet shuffling. Those tiny little things that they consist of, live by, exist with. It is always about the little things with them: it occurs to you that this may be a big thing. Maybe they need more time to—

“Alright,” a cracking voice cuts you off before you can ask the question that was still building, “grab a dining room chair, a tall one, and meet me in the kitchen.”

Kingsley’s already moving, mechanically yet fluid in the way they walk over, picking their bag, and navigate around and past you as you’re walking in their path. Nervous muscle and hyper focus—so like them it makes you smile. You diverge by the dining room, heading over to pick up a chair as directed, confused as to why you’re taking it to the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we be in the living room or bathroom?”

“Living room has nothing we need, bathroom’s too small—I uh, take up most of the space as is.”

You avoid imagining the two of you crammed into that private space.

Looking at them again as you approach, you watch the way they deftly unpack: eyes locked on the contents, right hand grabbing items and tossing them to the left without a single shift in their line of sight. Thinking. These little pieces of themself that Kingsley leaves around your apartment always make it hard to resist inviting them.

It’s too much, too fast for them, sure. But there is something about Chrysanta’s presence in your home compared to anywhere else. It is quiet—it always is despite their size—but it is rooted, in a way they never are to any thing or place or moment. Their steps are slower, their movements more eased, the calm they feel reflected in how little they stutter or panic because they can’t feel you in their confusing telepathic way.

“Where should I set the chair?” you ask softly.

“At the sink.” Not bothering to look at you to respond.

As soon as you set it down, facing the sink, Kingsley’s hand reaches out and turns it around.

“One more, please,” absently said as they set up all of whatever it is they’ve brought, set to boiling water, and wash their hands at the sink.

You muse on how they’ve always reminded you of a surgeon, the way they wash up or are exacting in their ministrations. Absentmindedly, you ponder if they’d have made a good med student, leading you to wonder if they’d ever had plans of what they wanted to grow up to be when they were young—outside of a vigilante. You nearly bump into them with the chair during your daydream before their hand quickly snakes out to catch you by the shoulder.

“This one is for me later, we can leave it over here.”

As swift as they stopped you, the chair is out of your hands, and you realise you’ve never seen Kingsley so… in charge. The way they move through this small space like it’s their own world in yours.

In charge of Charge, you chuckle to yourself at such a dumb joke. Sounds like a tag line to one of those adult movies they make about the two of you. They spare a glance your way.

“Alright, I’m just gonna g-grab some towels. Go ahead and sit.”

“Yes, sir, Marshal, sir,” you call out cheekily as they walk out, following orders with a small laugh.

There is a small well of feelings that has been bubbling in your stomach and you’re not quite sure what to call them. ‘Sir’ sent a small ping of questioning to the back of your mind. The two of you never quite discussed what kind of words Kingsley likes being directed at them. Masculine or feminine, in the way words are gendered. They’ve told you they’re not a woman, but they’ve also expressed that they’re not a man either, or maybe they’re both—it’s new to you, in the sense that you’re not sure where you stand without pre-conceived societal notions as a guideline between the two of you.

Would they like to be called handsome? Or beautiful? Is there something else that fits? Would attractive be a safe word to use? Does anyone compliment them? Should you do it more?

You shake your head, focusing on undoing your braid instead, settling your face back to a small smile as soon as they walk back in. They move the saucepan of hot water off the burner, setting a jar of oil in the centre, then busy themself with a small box they pulled from their bag.

“Shall we?” they ask, looking at you as they put on a pair of tight black nitrile gloves.

“Is this an examination?” you joke nervously, pointing at their hands.

There’s a cringe when you think of your last mod check-up, invasive and impersonal. Your brain can’t help but carry on, thinking of hospitals and your various stays in them. You don’t like them as is, but Kingsley’s proximity to you has made you even more wary of them; the panic they show when you bring up medical attention sometimes is sobering.

“No? I mean… uh, I’m not calling you dirty, but I don’t know how clean your hair is, and you d-don’t know how clean my hands are.”

The look on your face must have been either offence or murder because they take a step back, hands up.

“It’s a health precaution! I’m just being careful,” they croak.

“I wash my hair!” Your tone is indignant.

“I know! I’m just being safe!”

“I feel like I’m going in for a pap sm—“

“Alright alright!” they yell to cut you off, face red up to the ears at your unfinished sentence. “I’ll take them off as soon as I’m done washing your hair.”

“Thank you,” you give their hands one last nervous glance, only eased by the thought of how attractive the gloves makes them look. You sincerely hope the sudden mortification at that is not showing on your face, but they’re already turning their back to you.

“Wait, Kings,” you interrupt, “take off your hoodie.”

“W-what?” You do not miss the look of absolute panic on their face.

“It’s gonna get soaked handling all my hair,” you clarify.

“And my sh-shirt is gonna get wet if it isn’t on.”

“But your shirt will dry faster.”

“You have a dryer—my sweater can be dried.”

“Well… about that...” your exasperated laugh and a wiggle of fingers from your raised hand tells them all they need to know.

“Julia. How the hell did you break your dryer again? I just fixed it!”

“It wasn’t on purpose this time—there was a static build up!” Your hands slap you in the mouth as soon as the sentence finishes. Your eyes widen as Kingsley’s narrow.

“This time?” their voice is low, their eyes sharp.

“I uh, may have broken it to get you over here for dinner that time…” The half-hearted chuckle you let out is fake even to you.

“Julia.” A stern glare.

“…Kingsley?” Utter avoidance of eye-contact.

“That’s incredibly dangerous, first off. And I’m not a maintenance worker. You don’t pay me for that.”

“I can absorb any electricity that comes my way and I pay you in food,” a quick retort, regaining composure. “And I got you to stop avoiding the simple notion of a meal together as if I were threatening you with a gun.”

There is a specific face they make at that, and for the umpteenth time in your life you wish you knew what it was they were thinking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever—just sit down and shut up.”

From anyone else that would sound rude, but that’s simply Sidestep’s tone. The impact is also lessened by the movement of them removing their hoodie, leaving behind a loose long-sleeve that briefly reveals a long-sleeved compression shirt tucked in beneath. The upper layer had lifted while they were pulling the hoodie over their leaving the outline of Kingsley’s back muscles and bra lines on show before they fixed it.

Just a friendly look at your friend’s back. Friendly-ly.

Mouth not at all dry.

“So what’s on the menu? What are we doing?” you cough as they position themself in front of you, looming even more than usual now that you’re sitting.

They reach behind your head and your heart skips; they gather all of your hair carefully and lift it with the gentlest touch, moving a hand to guide you to sit all the back by the shoulder.

“Luckily your sink is low enough that I can lean you back for this to work,” they hum, setting your hair into the sink and tilting your head back, “I’m uh, only used to doing my hair texture… I’ve never done someone else’s hair.” They swallow hard, suddenly nervous. “First: shampoo, maybe a deep cleanse. An oil or deep treatment mask, heat treatment to that for thirty minutes. Rinse it out, then moisturise, comb, and braid.”

“You’re gonna give me braids?” you smile up at them, the orange light of outside slipping through your blinds against their skin and yours. They look bronzed in the lighting. “Like yours?”

“Not quite,” they laugh. “Something more l-like French braids or not-quite-cornrows. I don’t think your hair could support the protective styles I do. I don’t… think so at least? My curls are much tighter than yours.”

“You don’t know?” Teasing.

“I’m not a, not a fucking aesthetician or cosmetologist or beautician, Ghoulia. I’m a vigilante—I don’t get paid the big bucks to make people pretty, I’m usually the one fucking ‘em up. For free!” They sigh heavily, pulling at their gloves to make a loud slap noise as they let go to shut you up.

You giggle quietly, only for it to grow louder and your shoulders to start to shake as Kingsley pulls you forward to set a towel around your shoulders, then let’s you fall back into place before they lean over to turn on the water and pull out the sink hose, adjusting your hair once more.

“What are you laughing about?” they ask, looking down at you, smiling softly and holding you by the back of the head with one hand.

“Did you just… did you just call me fucking Ghoulia?” you burst out laughing uncontrollably.

“You literally call me Chrysantamum—that’s not a worse pun?” they ask, spraying the top of your head with water playfully before setting to work rinsing the rest thoroughly.

“I mean… yeah! That’s so much worse!”

The laughter carries on for two more minutes, much to Kingsley’s displeasure—and your abs’.

“Sidestep Spa… you could make good money with this.”

“No,” they cut you off. “Hair is… like I said, I’ve never done someone else’s. Hair is personal. It’s trust.”

You stare silently at them, considering their words. Is this you showing trust? Or them? For you, this had been a joke but… not anymore. You understand now, as their fingers carefully and dextrously work through your hair: you feel the mutual connection, respect and trust. It feels like a ritual; some kind of magic never really touched on by most.

A thoughtful look at Kingsley. You think of the things they share with you, and that seem to mean something to them. Food, space, and hair. Those must be their love languages: how swiftly they make sure you’ve eaten and how careful they are right now. How often they sit with you on rooftops for a sunset and a beer. The light pulls and parts; the way their fingers massaging into your scalp threatens to make you melt into your chair, and the rinsing calms you.

You think, suddenly, to your mother. The days of your youth spent sitting between her knees as she pulled your curls and waves into a neat braid before you ran off to cause a ruckus. Of her styling your hair the ways her mother styled hers. Hair that connected to your culture, your roots, your family. It dawns on you that this is what that must be for King, too—especially having grown up viewed as a woman.

Time flies by while you’re lost to the memories and motions.

Even now, as you sit in the chair with a warm towel wrapped around your head and with the hot oil they prepared working it’s magic, they don’t sit still. Instead their hands are busy with small bowls, a brush, and a fork, mixing things together into a larger bowl.

“Making your hair mask,” they comment absently, feeling your gaze on them. “Fresh ingredients are better. It’ll help repair what your stylist’s constant flat-ironing damaged.”

Pelo malo, you remember unkind neighbours saying to you. You remember your mother yelling at them in turn, before pulling you close on your walk home, petting your hair.

You think of your mother’s hands as they mix with a fork. It takes you back to a different kitchen, to the sounds and smells of pancakes sizzling on the cast iron griddle. The ingredients they mix reminding you more of a meal than a hair product: honey, avocado, yogurt, brown sugar, banana, apple cider vinegar. You don’t even bother to ask how they came across some of those ingredients here in the west, you know they have more tricks than they let on.

Chrysanta’s movement back into place directly in front of you drags you back into the present fully, tracing details of their face in the rarest moment of absolute openness. No shields, no walls, no topics. Just their hands as they carefully unwrap the towel, taking great care not to pull your hair or have anything drip onto you instead of the towel.

As they rinse your hair, once again focused on threading fingers gracefully and massaging your scalp and hair, your eyes close.

You wonder what Kingsley’s life is like, outside of you and the Rangers. What their childhood was like. What their youth was like. What their teen years were like. You’re not even sure how old they are now. You wonder about questions you know you can’t have answers to, because you know they won’t tell you. Questions you think might hurt them if you asked.

More so, you wonder what their family was like. Your eyes open and you wonder if Chrysantamum ever sat in a chair like this, with their mother lovingly washing her daughter’s hair at the kitchen sink like a right of passage. If kind hands cared enough to catch every curl, with kind eyes at her child like they were the sun—the light of her life. If she’d smooth down King’s baby hairs with the same long, swift fingers and small smiles, or brush them down just-so. You think she would have been beautiful: both young Kingsley and her mother. You look at them again, while they’re focused, and wonder if their grandmother is in their features like your’s is in yours.

You think about how Kingsley can’t cook: was she not there to teach them? Was their mother not there either? With their hunger now, you bet they needed to eat so much as a child, and it hurts to ponder if they ever went hungry from the way you see them ration their leftovers.

You close your eyes as they part sections of your hair, cool bare skin on your scalp now, and the occasional rat tail of a comb catching stray hairs. Part, a dab of oil, a clip to hold the section: you can practically hear the steps light up in their head. As careful and precise with hair as they are with machines.

You think maybe they like machines because they don’t muddy the waters with feelings. Feelings—accepting or giving—do not come easy to them. And you have learned by now that what they feel is best determined by their actions, not the words they use as sword and shield against others. You wonder how they feel. Looking up at them does not make it any clearer, but…

They rub the mask between their palms to warm it, and you know somewhere in you this is love. This is as close to love as they know, and that is enough for you.

There may be lingering confusion in your feelings: you have always been attracted to men, and they are not a man—but they are also not a woman. There may be some hesitation to take a step from friendship with someone who means so much to you. But whatever you both have to give, when you’re both ready, will be enough for you.

You can imagine that little girl: too tall and lanky and active for their own good. Bruised knees and scratched arms and torn dresses every time they came back into the house in the evening, like you when you were young. Maybe the two of you would have been good friends back then, too. Maybe the world wouldn’t have gotten to Kingsley so much if you’d been there with them. It’s nothing you can change now: you know better than anyone that the past stays behind where it can only hurt you if you try to go back to it.

They look down at you now, the mask application finished, and survey the soft look in your eyes, the light smile on your face with a mirrored one of their own. You too, see the small traces of confusion flash by, but it melts away. The eye contact held as their bare hand comes up, brushing against your forehead softly as if to move stray strands away you know they’ve collected, then down the side of your cheek as if to catch some oil left behind they never dropped. Excuses for intimacy that does not come naturally to them. And right now that is enough.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” you ask softly, hoping they see in your eyes how much their opinion truly matters to you. More than anyone’s ever has.

The question brings a sharpness to their brow, eyes still soft and searching.

“Do you want to? If you want to, do it—I’ll help. However I can.” Their face hardens. “Don’t ever let those stylists tell you what you can and can’t do for yourself. Don’t ever let them make you their doll.”

The last sentence is spat like venom; there’s a deep bitterness in those words, in that choice of words, but you know that’s a question you cannot ask.

You reach up and gently pull a curl that freed itself from Kingsley’s bun. You watch it stretch, far longer than it looks, and let it rest again, pushing it from their brow. You wonder what Kingsley looked liked with hair as long as yours, or what they’d look like with it even shorter. You wonder what colour they’ll braid in next, what length of braids, and if anyone ever gets to help them.

Their soft gaze breaks, reaching for the hose one last time to rinse the mask from your head. There is a new kind of quiet blossoming between the two of you as they rinse: a maybe, an almost, a sort of. An electricity even your mods can’t match, a feeling in the pit of your stomach even hunger couldn’t touch.

And when they begin to carefully dry your hair you ponder what it will mean in the future—what it means now. There is a soft tap on your forehead, twice, and you know that means to lift the mask but you’re not the one who wears it, so you turn your gaze upwards instead. Chrysantamum is leaned down, far enough to be close to your face, and their face is soft and their ears are red. That bright green gaze looks to your lips and back to your eyes, the tilt of the head a question, one you know well: may I kiss you? Your question. Just as you know the answer as you smile softly like they do, and lean in for them to catch your lips, always soft and questioning—never wanting to lock you in, never asking for more than you’re willing to give, never staying long. You part slowly, smiling softer than you have all night.

They suddenly knock the towel off your head and flee to the living room cackling, knowing you’ll give chase. Always one step ahead. You don’t disappoint, throwing the towel after them and bolting over to catch them in a kiss as they turn around. Charging in. For just a few minutes more you stay entangled, hands at the back of each other’s necks—another small intimacy with grand connotations.

When the two of you settle back into the living room— King on the couch and you between their knees—you wonder if this will one day become a memory you can fondly look back on. If you will remember the sepia tone streaming in through the window, the feeling of their fingers as they separate your hair—moisturising and combing, and of the soft pulls as they carefully weave braids along your scalp.

“Think PR would be pissed if I p-put a teal ribbon in your braid?” they ask with a surprising cheekiness.

“I’m a hero, not a cheerleader,” you complain with no actual objections. “Put a piece of jewellery or something instead.”

You hear their hands ruffling in their pocket, so you turn to look, curiosity piqued. They remove a few small charms, the kind you’ve seen in their own braids, twists, and locs. Pumping their brows at you cheesily, they put the hair tie in their hand between their teeth, moving to get a better grip on the braid they’re working on.

A few pulls you don’t quite feel later and you hear a little “Ta-da!” as your braid falls over your shoulder. You lift it up to get a better look and you see a charm woven in seamlessly: a small piece of turquoise more teal than blue.

You lean forward a little, drawing your knees to your chin with an arm around them, fiddling with it as the two of you fall into silence. The sensations of their hands on you, and the comfort of your home around them.

Right now, this is more than enough for you.

[trashyswitch]

Patton's Sugar Addiction

Patton has become way too addicted to sugar, to the point that Thomas is becoming affected mentally. And Logan is not having that. So, he comes to Patton's room to try to talk some sense into him. But...there's only so much sense you can explain to an impulsive little child who becomes childish and teasy when he doesn't get his way.

For Garcello (Hi!), @kanene-yaaay and forgetful-dortio

This was a fun fanfic to make! And...It's based on a personal experience...Without the tickling though, and not nearly as much sugar. But I did pig out on hot and cold creamy chocolate. And I have no regrets. ;)

If there is one thing Logan has always been good at, it’s identifying other people’s quirks and habits. And one quirk Logan knew all too well was Patton’s obsession with sugar.

From the time Patton was little, to when Patton started baking his own goods, Patton had grown increasingly more obsessed with sugar. At first, it start off as a little treat once a week. Then it grew to everyday desserts, to multiple sweet things a day. Soon, Logan had lost track of how much sugar Patton took in on a daily basis.

Logan didn’t fully know how much sugar he took in. But what he did know was that it was most likely too much. Even a tablespoon of sugar was too much for the human body. And Patton had already overtaken that obstacle long ago.

Now, Logan wouldn’t be looking at this issue as a problem if it weren’t for the effect Patton was having on Thomas...

One night, Logan had gotten up to go to the bathroom. As he walked to the bathroom, he noticed that Patton’s light was still on. It was currently 11:25, which wasn’t terrible...It was questionable at best. Logan walked to the door and placed his ear against it. It sounded like mumbled giggling and movie watching. Logan was gonna leave him alone when he realized something:

Mumbled giggling...Mumbled? Is Patton eating something?

Logan decided to do something he rarely does: Barge into his room. Logan walked into his room, took one look at Patton and shrieked!

Patton was eating a FULL TUB of cookies & cream ice cream, covered in caramel and chocolate sauce, mounted with whipped cream! It was a mountain of PURE SUGAR!

Surrounding the moral side was a big mug of hot chocolate, and 3 half-eaten chocolate bars.

“AAAH-” Patton coughed on his ice cream as bits of the liquid cream went down the wrong pipe. “Logan! Oh my goodness you scared me!”

Logan was staring at him, making the sugar calculations in his head. P-Patton-”

“Sorry Kiddo, I don’t think I heard you knock!” Patton put his tub down. “What’s going on? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Logan looked at the sugar pile. “Are...you feeling okay?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, why?”

Logan pointed to all his chocolate. Patton turned around and looked at the chocolate. “Oh! Right.” Patton pushed all the chocolate bars and the tub into a desk drawer. “That’s nothing. Just felt like pigging out tonight.”

Logan walked into the room more and closed the door. “Your version of pigging out...is much worse than most people’s pigging out.” Logan told him.

Patton looked down guiltily. “I know that Lo…” Patton held his hands. “I’ve been...getting more sad and annoyed when I run out of the food that makes me happy. So I started buying large amounts of it to...help me get satisfied and full.” Patton explained.

“Patton...Do you realize how much sugar you’re taking in?” Logan asked.

Patton looked at the drawer with his half-eaten tub of ice cream and chocolate bars. “I...I lost count.”

Logan shook his head and walked closer. “I’m doing a sugar bust.” Logan declared as he opened the drawer.

“No NONONO WAIT-” Patton yelled, slamming the drawer shut. “No!”

Logan frowned. “Patton...let go of the drawer.” Logan ordered.

“No way!” Patton yelled back.

“Why?” the nerd asked.

“Because you’ll take it away from me!” Patton reacted.

“Yeah, because I’m worried about you.” Logan told him.

Patton sat his chair against the drawer to block it off. “If you love me, you’ll let me have this!” Patton told him.

“If I love you, I’d be doing this for the good of your health.” Logan said back.

“I’m a side! I can eat whatever I want without needing to watch my diet!” Patton argued.

“You are not stable like this!” Logan shot back.

“AND YOU ARE??” Patton yelled. “Mr. I feel no feelings?!”

Logan was taken aback. Did...Did he just insult him? Patton was NOT being himself at all.

“Organization makes you feel happy. And chocolate makes me feel happy! I never went around destroying your binders or paperwork!” Patton continued.

“You’re being ridiculous. I will not tolerate this unacceptable behaviour from you, Patton.” Logan said sternly.

Patton growled and tackled Logan right down to the ground. Logan yelped in fear as his back flopped against the ground. “PATTON LET GO OF ME!”

“You’re doing something that’s uncalled for! So now I’m gonna do something that’s uncalled for.” Patton declared before he started digging into Logan’s ribs.

Logan gasped and clenched his teeth tightly to prevent himself from givng Patton a chance to win. But oh boy...Patton was really going for an instinctive spot he could only control so much! And yes, Patton’s move was quite uncalled for. But it was also quite clever for Patton. Patton (unfortunately) knew exactly how to break any side. Even Logan.

Logan shook his head. “P-PAT THISISRIDICULOUS!” Logan shot at him through his clenched teeth.

“So is apprehending my stash of goodies!” Patton replied. “Now don’t make me go for the spot…”

Logan widened his eyes to the size of donuts. “You-youwouldn’t!” Logan reacted. He really wouldn’t, right?

“Ohohoho, I would. And I just might!” Patton declared.

Logan covered his armpits almost immediately to prevent Patton from getting to them. But Patton knew he would do this, and went for his neck instead.

“eEEEEHEHEK! Pahahat nohohoho!” Logan giggled.

“But Pat YES!” Patton leaned into Logan’s ab muscles, and blew a big raspberry: “PBBBbBbBFFBTBFT”

Logan finally couldn’t take it anymore. That raspberry threw Logan into enough of a frenzy to finally start laughing. “AAAAHAHAHAHAhehehehehe!”

Patton smirked to himself as he listened to the nerd’s laughter. It worked! Now to keep it going! Patton started skittering and scratching on Logan’s upper ribs and lifted up Logan’s arm. “I’m gonna getcha!” Patton teased.

“NOHOHO THIHIS IS UHUHUNCAHALLED FOHOHOR!” Logan yelled.

Patton only laughed evilly as he skittered his fingers slowly into Logan’s exposed hollow armpit.

Logan squeaked and fell into a fit of squeaky giggles. “Pahahahahat! Plehehehehehehease! Yohohou’re beheheing meeehehehehean!” Logan told him through the cute giggles he was letting out.

“Me? Mean?! Who was the one trying to steal from my precious stash a few minutes ago? Cause it certainly wasn’t me.” Patton reacted as he sped up the tickling to rapid speed.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOUR HEHEHEALTH PAHAHAHAT!” Logan yelled through his newfound laughter.

“Yeah, what about it?” Patton asked.

“IHIHI DOHOHON’T WAHAHANT YOHOHOU TOHOHO DIHIHIE!” Logan yelled.

Patton sighed. “Again...we’re sides. We don’t die.” Patton muttered out loud.

Logan was laughing up a storm with squeaks and giggles mixed in. This was so unfair! Why was Patton tickling him over his own sugar addiction? “BUHUHUHUT THOHOHOMAHAHAHAS!” Logan yelled.

“What about Thomas?” Patton asked, stopping his fingers.

Logan went limp, save for his one index finger that was raising up. “Thom-Thomas…*huff* ihis...behecomihihing...*huff*...un...unhealthy…*huff*...” Logan explained.

“Because of me?!” Patton reacted, placing his hand on his own chest. “How could that be?” Patton asked.

Logan’s hand flopped onto the carpet he was laying on. “Ihit’s...because…” Logan let out a big breath of air. “You’re increasing Thomas’s...craving for sweets.” Logan told him.

Patton tilted his head. “Am I?”

“Yes, a lot.” Logan explained. “Thomas has been ignoring my suggestions of something healthy due to ‘his cravings’. But...I can see why these cravings are coming up so often now.” Logan continued. “It’s you and your sugar addiction.”

“I wouldn’t call it an addiction...It’s more of a...taste preference.” Patton explained.

“A taste preference that you’re choosing so often that Thomas can’t keep himself together without a cookie or 20 to help him along the way.” Logan added.

Patton widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “Oh heavens…” Patton sat himself down and hummed as he looked at his butt. Patton stood back up and grabbed the item from his pocket.

Oh good lord it was another chocolate bar.

Logan noticed the almost cat-like look Patton developed when he saw the chocolate bar in his hand. “Paaaat...Paaat no!” Logan ordered.

Patton took one look at Logan and slowly ripped the top of the wrapper off the bar.

“Patton! I swear! You’ve had enough!” Logan reacted.

Patton slowly split the wrapper in half, and slowly separated the wrapper from the chocolate bar. “No I haven’t.”

Logan finally sprinted up to Patton. “GIVE IT HERE-” Logan skidded to a halt and rubbed his nose. “Did...Did you just shove the whole thing into your mouth?”

Patton stared at him and looked around with his cheeks more puffed out than a chipmunks cheeks of nuts. “Mm mm.” Patton hummed, shaking his head even though it was completely obvious that Patton had shoved the chocolate bar into his mouth.

Logan crossed his arms. “This is getting too far. Even for you.” Logan reacted. “This is more dangerous than Maleficent...Than- freaking SATAN! You’re being more dangerous than the devil right now!” Logan reacted, referring to his ‘and when I feel dangerous...eat a second cookie’ quote.

Patton narrowed his eyes and even hummed an offended sound. “How THARE-” Patton coughed a bit and started chewing. Half the chocolate bar was probably melted in his mouth by now thanks to the natural heat his mouth created.

Logan sighed and just let him chew. “Patton...I’m not gonna take the chocolate. But...I am going to try and help you control your urges to eat so much of it.” Logan told him.

Patton looked at him with a ‘you’d do that for me?’ kinda face and started to swallow.

“Just give me a chance to come up with a couple things. And...I may even start buying you your chocolates. Just...maybe have some variety.” Logan suggested.

Patton nodded as he chewed and swallowed.

“For example: nuts or berries. That way you’re getting some sort of valuable nutrients out of your snacks.” Logan decided.

Patton nodded as he swallowed his last bite with a sigh of content and a lick of the lips. “Mmmmm…”

Logan couldn’t help but snicker at this.

Patton turned to him. “What?” He asked with a smile.

“Nothing.” he put his hands up, with a small smile.

“Nothing? Nothing you say? After all of that?” Patton asked with an evil smirk on his face.

Logan’s small smile dropped into a look of pure nervousness. If he so much as said one thing, he was gonna die.

“Ooooooh...Thought staying silent would help you out huh?” Patton teased, sneaking closer. “I wonder...Which armpit would tickle more?”

Logan squeaked and covered his mouth as Patton moved closer and closer to Logan’s body. But then, things became even more flustering for Logan when Patton lifted up his arm again. “NO! NO NO NO NO PATTON!” Logan yelled. “STAAAAAAAA-”

Patton sighed and covered Logan’s mouth. “Get ahold of yourself.” Patton told him softly.

Logan stared at Patton.

Then Patton smirked and said a word:

“lee.”

Logan growled and covered his face.

Patton giggled and blew a raspberry into Logan’s ribs.

“AAEEHEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Logan screamed, laughing into the side of his own arm.

Patton tickled up and down the ribs, specifically focusing on the upper ribs and armpits the most because...That was Pat’s favorite spot to tickle on Logan! Logan was a mixture of laughter and giggles with squeaks thrown in as well. “Awwwwww! You’re so cute when you’re being tickled!” Patton reacted. “Wanna know what my favorite raspberry spot is?” Patton asked.

Logan shook his head. “NOHOHOHO! NOHO RAHAHASPBEHEHERRIES!”

“Well too bad, I’m gonna tell you anyway:” Patton leaned in and blew a raspberry on his belly. “Right on the tum tum!”

Logan wheezed and snorted at least 3 times in a row as his laughter started back up again. His laughter was so solid, strong, and yet quite soft to listen to! It was a beautiful little combination, if Patty did say so himself.

Patton soon gave Logan a break to allow the man to breathe for a while. Logan went limp on the ground for a bit, and lifted his head up. “Hey Pat?”

Patton smiled at him as he ate another spoonful of melting ice cream. “Yes?”

Logan wheezed as he saw Patton eating the ice cream yet again. “If you label the ice cream and put it into the freezer…” Logan looked down in slight embarrassment. “I’ll...let you tickle me more.”

Patton couldn’t refuse such a delicious deal such as this!

Patton was gone and back in 5 minutes or less, and was back and ready to tickle even more of Logan with his slightly cold hands. “I hope you’re ready for the tickling of a lifetime, young man!” Patton teased.

Logan gave him a wobbly smile. He hoped he was ready for it too...

[stellar-lune]

*KOTLC incorrect quotes*

Anyways, a long list of incorrect KOTLC quotes, feel free to use these for anything if ya want!

-

Glimmer: Arson? Oh, you mean "crime brûlée".

-

Fitz: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Fitz: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

-

Keefe, holding up his class notes: And then this doodle of a burrito because when I first read Aristotle, I thought it was pronounced like “Chipotle”.

Marella, in shock: Wait a minute, is it “Chip-o-tottle”?

-

Sophie: I wasn't hurt that badly. Elwin said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!

-

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent.

Marella: I choose to waive that right!

Marella: *screaming*

-

Brant (whoops sorry bout this one): Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don’t answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.

-

Sophie: I would never say that my best friend is a bitch and I don’t like her. That’s not true… Biana is a bitch and I like her very much!

-

Lex, Bex, Rex: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

-

Keefe on Tuesday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.

Keefe on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

-

Forkman, to the squad: And remember, if I get harsh with you it is only because you’re doing it all wrong.

-

Keefe, tearing up the room: Where are they?

Keefe, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?

Keefe: Somebody moved my E.L. Fudges, and now I am going to run away again.

-

Tam: Your existence is confusing.

Keefe: How so?

Tam: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to you upsets me.

-

Sophie: I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking.

-

Linh: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by an spontaneous musical number.

-

Dex: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

-

Sophie: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities.

Sophie, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor.

-

Dex, to Stina: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

-

Sophie: My life isn't as glamourous as my wanted poster makes it look.

-

Dex: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one, Wonderboy.

-

Marella: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

-

Fitz: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

-

*out grocery shopping*

Linh: *takes a free sample twice*

Linh: Robbery and fraud. I am a Rebel (TM) .

-

Sophie: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices.

Sophie: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

-

Sophie: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

-

Demon: Hey, I took your soul last month and-

Tam: No returns.

Demon: *sobbing* But it's making me sad...

-

Dex: So, according to my university, it is, quote, “my responsibility if there is an internet outage to contact the faculty and the department.”

Dex: Now, if you’re a critical thinker like me, you might be wondering one thing.

Dex: HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO EMAIL THE DEPARTMENT?!?!?!

-

Tam: Hey, what’s the name of the other guy who lives with Tiergan?

Linh: His cats' names are Walter and Rose.

Tam: That's not what I asked.

Linh: That is all the information I have.

-

Keefe: Ro, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life?

Ro: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.

(alternatively, Alden)

-

Linh: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!?

Tam, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

-

Marella: I'd roast you, but my mom says you can't burn trash.

Marella: *slow-mo walks out of the room*

-

Biana: I'm gonna get my piolet's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses.

Fitz: The big five licenses?

Biana: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.

-

Dex: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.

Fitz: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Biana, do you think I have anger issues?

Biana: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

-

Keefe: So how’s the food Sophie made?

Fitz: It's great! Compliments to her.

Keefe: *goes to the kitchen*

Keefe: You're adorable.

Sophie: *blushes*

-

Biana: And now for a gay update with Linh and Marella.

Marella: Getting gayer.

Biana: Thank you, Marella.

-

Sophie: Hey, do you know the password to Keefe’s computer?

Biana: I love you, Sophie.

Sophie: Aww, that’s so swe—

Biana: No, you misunderstood, the password is "iloveyouSophie".

Sophie: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.

-

Fitz: Hey, Biana, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Biana: Yeah.

Fitz: And you, Tam?

Tam: Umm... yes?

Fitz: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Biana: Did he just-

-

Sophie: Do you cook?

Biana: I made a cake once.

Fitz: Yeah, it was good.

Biana: Really?

Fitz: Don’t make me lie twice, Biana.

-

Dex: Nice rock.

Keefe: Thanks, Tam gave it to me.

Tam: I threw it at you!

Keefe: Isn’t he the sweetest?

-

Juline: I just had a long talk with the triplets about hitting and now they are yelling “it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence” before hitting each other.

-

Sophie: I made you all playlists!

Sophie: Tam, yours has only heavy metal and punk, and is dark like your soul.

Sophie: Keefe, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Sophie: And Biana has the ABBA Gold album.

-

Fitz: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel.

Biana: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel.

Dex: A realist sees a freight train.

Tam: The train driver sees three idiots standing on train tracks.

-

Mr. Forkle: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.

Biana, Keefe, & Sophie: Okay.

Mr. Forkle: If you don't want to die, give me all your money.

Biana: Bold of you to assume I have money.

Keefe: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.

Sophie: Bold of you to assume I can die.

-

Sophie: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Keefe: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

Dex: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Marella: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

-

Biana: What’s it like being tall?

Marella: Is it nice?

Sophie: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Fitz: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

-

Stina: You have friends and I envy that.

Marella: You're welcome to share my friends.

Stina: *looks at Dex and Sophie*

Stina: I don't want those.

-

Della: Tommorrow's garbage day.

Fitz: I can't believe you made a whole day dedicated to Alvar.

-

Linh: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it.

Tam: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out.

Linh: Th-that's not how that works-

-

Marella: Do you want to know your gay name?

Linh: My... my gay name?

Marella: Yeah, it's your first name-

Linh: Haha. Very funny Marella-

Marella: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.

Linh: Oh- oh my god.

-

Glimmer: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.

The Black Swan: Those are wanted posters!

-

Biana: Are you mad?

Tam: No.

Biana: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

-

Keefe: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.

Biana: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

-

Biana: *on the phone* Hey Fitz, do you know my blood type?

Fitz: Of course, it's A+.

Biana: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-!

-

Fitz, to Sophie: Are you ready to commit?

Sophie: Like, a crime or a relationship?

-

Literally Anyone: Hey, aren’t you Sophie Foster?

Sophie: You a Councillor?

Literally Anyone: No.

Sophie: Then yes, I am.

-

Sophie: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway.

Stina:

Sophie: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Stina: I’m gay—

Sophie: Not what I meant, but cool.

-

Keefe: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset?

Sophie: No, I said "Keefe, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

-

Mr. Forkle: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material.

Sophie: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

-

Juline: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I’m somehow always feeling both simultaneously.

-

Marella: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*

Marella: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

-

Biana: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend friendship on new clothes

-

Dex: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Fitz: Sure!

Fitz: Whats your favorite color?

Dex, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you like men?

[solarsleepless]

Please tell me everything you know about c!niki xD

THIS IS GONNA BE HELLA LONG SO HERE YOU GO

so niki first joined l'manberg - contrary to popular belief - AFTER the revolution, along w jack manifold. she joined bc she was good friends with wilbur and tommy. she opened up a bakery after consulting her diary/chat, and it ended up being pretty successful. not too succesful, but successful. during the elections, she decided to support her friend (childhood friend? the timeline is fucked up bc of c!fundy existing lbr) and together she and fundy made COCONUT2020. she didn't think she'd win, only really did it for fun, and supported wilbur even though she didn't join his party then her best friend and friend got exiled, and so she was understandably distraught and angry schlatt's reign was one of her low points. not her lowest, but pretty damn low if i do say so myself. she was tormented during this time by schlatt himself, and he made fun of her for her relationship with wilbur, called her things like a "wrench", he taxed her (to the point where she had to run away!), and he imprisoned her. it doesn't help that her childhood(?) friend betrayed her burnt down the flag that she had made for l'manberg (its so sad actually, listen to it) she had a birthday party that while i didnt watch ive heard that wilbur threatened to blow up l'manberg so yeah then she saw her younger brother-like figure get executed onstage, then almost got executed herself, when wilbur managed to get her away then it is DEVASTATING as she finally finds out abt how things have been going in pogtopia (especially for the viewers who only watched niki's pov). she had thought that they had a plan, that they were working things out, when really they haven't even got a semblance of a plan the pit fight happens, and then after she goes up to listen to one of tommy's discs with tubbo and tommy themselves during the manberg v pogtopia war, she fights for pogtopia and watches schlatt die and the nation become wilbur's again. then, of course, comes the part that all old school c!niki fans will remember... during the celebration they had just after tubbo gained presidency, she accidentally uncovered a small part of the wall and saw tnt. she went still, then covered it up, on the assumption that wilbur wouldn't blow it up BOY was she wrong her home gets destroyed (watch this and skip forwards until niki's pov), and she doesnt find out that wilbur dies until much, much later. to honour him, she starts wearing his coat. everything goes fine for a little while, and she yknow dates puffy (*SOBS* im unbiased im unbiased.... *sob*), and then doesnt find out abt tommy's exile until much later AFTER that. she doesnt really get in on the lore much during the inbetween period of tommy's exile and doomsday except for her city being built more. then, during doomsday, she gets angry at tommy and says that he couldn't just walk in there and assume everyone would be on his side, she also shouts at ranboo abt sides and stuff. later, she apologizes to ranboo and says that if ranboo fights for l'manberg, she will too. ranboo ends up doing nothing except watching everything unfold, and so niki does the same, except for one thing. she burns down the l'mantree, also known as her canonical lowest point. after that, she hears ghostbur speaking and has a panic attack, trying to reassure herself that "he's gone, he's gone, he's gone" and because shes too flooded w memories, she ends up blowing up her bakery. afterwards, however, she goes down into her secret city and isolates herself from everybody except for jack, who she plots to kill tommy with. she takes tommy to a nuclear test site and almost manages to kill him, but JUST misses him, somehow after this attempt, she scurries back to her little hole like a cryptid and (this is, in my opinion, her lowest point) isolates herself even MORE. she has contact with exactly 1 person during this whole period of four-five canonical(??) months, and it results in her mental health getting worse. technoblade visits her at the start of this, offering her a position as an anarchist to which she gives him a "maybe, after

i kill tommy" she gets night terrors, and keeps herself in a literal CELL so that she doesnt go anywhere when she sleepwalks, also punches the walls whenever she wakes up from a nightmare, which is often. eventually tho, she accepts techno's offer and joins the syndicate, naming herself as nemesis as a reference to her past self she manages to heal a substantial amount, finally having: a) a group that lets her speak (which is SO important for her, its actually the key to her entire arc) and b) socialization! however this takes a big turn, when she hears that wilbur's back she tries to play it off, then goes the l'manhole or l'crater, reminisces about wilbur betraying her (may i note the rocketduo where she looks pointedly at manifoldland and says "and GOD you deserved so much better dgsayufasyufgasuy) she grabs wilbur's diamonds, some of the first ever items she got in the SMP, then hides them in the wall, as a sign of her closing off from wilbur

PHHOOOOOOEEY THAT WAS A LONG ONE

okay so imma go with this writing cause its fun. so, you asked a few questions in response to the ask you gave me!! so lets go 1) why does she feel betrayed by wilbur? because she was one of the first people she met (canonically) on the SMP. he promised her that it would be a land of peace, prosperity, but she started loving it BECAUSE of wilbur. case and point: when wilbur asks whether she's loyal to l'manberg, she goes "yes, i'm loyal to you, wil." "no, no, not to me- to l'manberg" she quite literally wore his coat around the SMP as a symbol of her friendship and dedication towards him, because they were honestly the best of friends, and she THOUGHT she knew it. points out) and its the way she's learnt to do things. also remember: c!Niki is an unreliable narrator, that's the whole point of her character. it's a response to trauma (as @tubboblr pointed out) you're also probably wondering why she burnt down the l'mantree. and it's not because she "finally realized that l'manberg was bad" it was actually really simple: she wanted to be heard. she had been beaten down and talked over SO much (aka the BASIS for her arc) that she's so desperate to be heard she'll take desperate measures. another reason is because she finally loses hope in l'manberg. she loved it, loves it, but she just lost hope in it. she never hated it. she LOVED it, with all her heart. she just didnt believe it had any hope to be the place she had thought it was. if you have any other questions, let me know!!

[jbbarnesnnoble]

JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021

Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.

This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!

The Rules:

1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.

2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic

3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.

4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.

5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc

6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.

7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.

8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.

You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.

9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable

The prompts are under the cut!

Prompts:

Dialogue Prompts:

“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”

“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”

“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”

“It’d probably be easier if you left”

“Please leave me alone”

“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”

“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”

“You sure about that, moonman?”

“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”

“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

Sentence Prompts:

Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed

It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.

Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.

In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.

Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok

Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.

Forever was a lie, just like everything else.

If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.

They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.

Today was going to be good. It had to be.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.

AU and Trope Prompts:

Soulmate @samsgoddess

College

Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Musicians

Writer

Professional Athlete

Teacher

Coffee Shop

Fake Dating

Accidental Marriage

Royal

Librarian

Doctor

Song Prompts:

1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”

2. Missing You - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”

3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story

Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”

4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil

Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”

5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier

Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”

6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha

Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”

7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry

Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”

8. Used - Serious Matters

Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”

9. According to You - Orianthi

Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”

10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”

11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”

14. Therapy - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”

15. Scars - Alison Iraheta

Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”

16. Hurts to Know - 1551

Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”

17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”

18. Praying - Kesha

Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”

19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes

Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”

20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery

Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”

21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell

Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”

22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina

Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”

23. I Was Here - Beyonce

Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”

24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan

Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”

25. Amelia - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”

26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett

Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”

[votederpycausemufins]

Here’s another chapter! Y’all are gonna hate the ending.

@petrichormeraki

Grian knocked on the closet door. “Hey Xannes, I know you’re in there.”

“I’m busy! Go away!” Evil Xisuma’s voice came from inside.

“If you don’t come out now, I can get rid of the door completely and let people see inside. NPG’s told me it’s private information, but I’m sure sharing would be fine.”

There was silence before Xannes spoke again. “I’ll be right out!” There was a bit of clattering and then the hels admin opened the door as little as he could while also being able to squeeze through it.

“Nice sweater.” Grian pointed at the bright pink and yellow sweater Xannes was wearing before he quickly pulled it off and balled it up before throwing it into the closet.

“What the fuck do you want?” Then he looked over at Tommy. “And why is he here?”

“We need to get back to Hermitcraft and that’s Tommy. He’s from our dimension, not this one. We already met Theseus.”

Xannes crossed his arms. “And what do I get out of it?”

“You could come visit Hermitcraft again?” Mumbo suggested, but the admin just shook his head. “I thought you wanted that.”

“Oh, of course I do, but you know how I’m always visiting with NPG? That’s because my brother won’t let me in without him. Since he’s busy with Theseus, I can’t go anywhere.”

“Hey, before we left visiting, he said something about messaging you. Any chance that could be about NPG?” Tommy piped up.

Xannes hummed in acknowledgement before pressing something on his helmet. “So he did. Something I’ll need to tell Prof about. He’s actually going to be away for a few days to visit family. Something about seeing distorted mirrors or whatever.” He pressed the button again. “Alright, call NPG here and we can go.”

“Do I really need to discuss this? I have gone over this with my one dad before and have recovered from the events connected to my brainwashing.” Grum tried reasoning with Puffy who was insisting he had a therapy session with her. “I think there are more important matters to discuss other than my mental health.” 

“Your mental health is extremely important. Especially when you’re stuck in an unfamiliar place. And I’m not sure that having your dad as a therapist is the best practice.”

Grum frowned. “Technically a therapist should not have any relation with their patient outside of business work, usually up to three years I believe. But our admin is not fond of us leaving our world, so Daddy is the only option.”

“Well a second opinion would still be a good idea.” Puffy said, and Grum sighed before slumping in his seat. “I’m guessing that’s you reluctantly agreeing?”

“Yes, however I do have a condition.”

“What’s that?”

Grum gave a slight smirk. “That’s to have a significant influence on or determine the manner or outcome of something. But that’s not important right now. My condition is That between your questions for me, you allow me to ask my own questions.”

“Alright, but I may not answer everything you ask. Somethings may be a bit hard to hear or take too much explaining.”

“That is better than nothing.”

“Alright, so your brother mentioned you were brainwashed. How did that happen?”

“On our server, a system was started to buy plots of land on which to build shops, a ten by ten meter area being sold for one diamond block. It was started as a joke, but everyone went along with it. Soon there was a large diamond pile sitting in the middle of the shopping district. Dad thought someone needed to be in charge of it and created a town hall to place the blocks in and then created an election for mayor, nominating Daddy as a candidate. There were five total candidates, but by election, one had dropped out. One of the candidates was someone named Stress.

“She joined the election with Iskall as her running mate with a slogan and choice of colors. Meanwhile I was created to help my dads win. Just before the official election, Iskall appeared at my platform to get ideas from me. I refused to help anyone other than my dads, so he broke in and rewired me. Dad tried to help fix me when he found out what happened, but he does not know redstone well and only slightly fixed it. Daddy then came over and fixed me, but at that point, the stress of what happened and the fact that it was election day and it didn’t seem like my dads were winning ended with me breaking down.”

“That does sound like a lot to happen to someone so young. Even if as a robot you have the mental capacity of someone older, from what you’ve told me, you aren’t even a year old yet.”

“Correct.”

“Now, you said certain slogan and certain colors. What-”

“No. It is my turn for a question. Do you know someone by the name of Tommy Innit?”

“Uh, yes I do.” Puffy replied, waiting for Grum to ask more, but he simply nodded. “Are you going to ask more?”

“No. I have asked my question and now it is your turn.”

“Right. What were those colors and slogan?”

“I do not want to repeat the slogan. However, Stress was fond of alliums and used their dye.”

“Well then, that seems like something we should cover. The slogan likely may be a trigger to you.”

“Yes. How do you know Tommy?”

“I’ve… met him and his family before.”

Grum narrowed his eyes. “Is that all you are willing to say?”

“It’s my turn for a question.” Puffy responded, and Grum had to concede to his own rules. “How are you around Stress and Iskall?”

“Fine. They are my aunt and auncle now. Stress may have been running, but Iskall was acting on his own. At the time they were unaware how sentient of a being I was and is greatly apologetic for what they have done. They are very close with my dads and usually messed with things they ade, so at the time it seemed no different to him. Is Tommy from this server.”

“From this server? No, I believe he’s from SMP Earth.”

Grum had to keep himself from cursing. Now he was sure she was dodging his questions.

“Have you ever had negative experiences around Stress and Iskall after the initial incident?”

“Yes, the most prominent was when I first saw Iskall after getting my new body. After that was when I found a campaign sign that had not been taken down.” Grum paused before asking his question, having an idea. “If I asked you to give me a diamond and ask me a certain question with the guarantee that afterwards I would let you ask all your own questions and none more from me, would you do it?”

“I… suppose I could. I would have to find a dia-” Grum pulled one of on his inventory, always keeping a few on him for Jrum. “I guess that will work, what’s the question?”

“Ask me ‘Who is Tommy Innit?’”

This time Puffy looked unsure, but reluctantly she handed Grum the diamond back and asked the question. The diamond disappeared as it started up Grum’s system. He was primed, he bootloaded his brain, he flooded the mayoral reservoirs and then, he found the answer.

“Tommy Innit is the youngest son of Philza Minecraft, former ruler of the Antarctic Empire. He has three brothers. After the decline of the Antarctic Empire, Tommy was allowed to join the ↸∷ᒷᔑᒲ ᓭᒲ!¡ ᔑリ↸ ∴ᒷリℸ ̣  𝙹リ ℸ ̣ 𝙹- ℸ ̣ 𝙹- ℸ ̣ 𝙹- ℸ ̣ 𝙹- ℸ ̣ 𝙹- Gᒷt ⊣o∷gᒷo⚍s.”

Grum was holding his head. Something was wrong. It.. purple. Why was it purple? He couldn’t think right. Why? Why again? Was it because they were talking about it all and he tried to access the mayoral reservoirs? “⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. !¡∷𝙹ᓵᒷᓭᓭ𝙹∷ ⎓ᔑ╎ꖎ╎リ⊣. ∷ᒷ!¡ᔑ╎∷ᓭ リᒷᒷ↸ᒷ↸. ꖎ𝙹ᓵᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ ᔑ↸ᒲ╎リ╎ᓭℸ ̣ ∷ᔑℸ ̣ 𝙹∷. ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡. ⍑-⍑ e l p m e. D a d s h e l p m e!”

“Du du du, du du durudu, du du du duuu! D-d-dance Grian! Du du du, du du durudu, guinea pig dance! D-d-dance Grian!” Jrumbot was singing while in the nether, mining up some quartz, both for redstone as well as for snacks. “Du du du, du du durudu, du du du duuu! D-d-dance Grian! Du du du, du du durudu, guinea pig dance! Dance dance dance dance da-da-dan guinea pig, guinea pig, guinea pig, guinea pig. Dance dance dance dance dancedance, guinea pig dance!”

He heard the sound of a piglin and immediately stopped to make sure his gold booties were on, glad to see they were, then he realized that it wasn’t actually a piglin, but a zombie piglin, and a young one at that. Then, he realized it wasn’t just a normal sound. The noises were in the same tune as the song he had just been singing. “Hello? Is someone there?”

The noises stopped and jrum would furrow his brow if he had one. Then he got an idea. “Well! I guess I was just hearing things!” He said a little louder than needed before going back to the song. This time he paid attention as the humming of a baby ziglin started up again and Jrum started walking towards it, lowering his voice volume so whoever it was couldn’t tell he was coming closer.

Finally Grum found a hole and peaked inside, scaring the young Ziglin. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! I just heard you humming along to me!” They were quiet, but Jrum did get a wave from the mob. “My name is Jrum! What’s yours?”

The Ziglin snorted and Jrum smiled. “Oh! Michael is a very nice name! What are you doing in a hole?” Another few snorts. “Huh, I guess that makes sense. My dads kept my brother in a box until it was okay to move him so he could get a body like the one I’m in! I got mine at the same time too by the way.”

Jrum chatted with Michael for a bit before something was said that made the ziglin sad. “Aww, what’s wrong?” Jrum asked, listening to the snorts in response. “Aww, well I hope Boo can find Bee. I got lost once and my dads found me, so I’m sure that your parents can find each other too!” A single happy snort. “Yes, Boo! He can do it. Wait behind me?”

Michael had shaken his head and pointed behind Jrum. When the robot turned around, he had to crane his head up at the figure that towered above him. They were half black and half white with the purple eyes of an enderman, streaks going down on the white side of their face from the eye. Jrum thought he also saw some mirrored on the black side, but it was hard to tell.”

“Who are you and why are you with Michael?”

“Um, I’m Jrum and I was mining in here while singing and then Michael sang along and now we’re friends.”

“I see. And what were you mining for?”

“Quartz! I’m a robot and so is my brother and we eat quartz instead of normal food, plus I need it for some redstone things.”

“I see. And are you-”

“Am I what?” Jrum asked when the person stopped talking, their eyes fading from purple and into green and red.

“Oh! Hello! Who are you?”

“Um… Jrum?” Jrum was confused by a number of things. The person’s changing eye colors, the repeated question, the tone of their voice changing from serious to chipper and finally the change to the common language. “You asked that already.”

“I did?” He asked, and then pulled out a book. “I don’t have anything written down about meeting someone like you.”

“Well we just met a minute ago. You asked what I was doing with Michael.”

“Oh, did you make a friend Michael?” The young ziglin nodded and then the person started writing in his book.

“Um, so what’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Ranboo.”

Jrum smiled a little at the name. “Oh! Michael said his parents were Bee ‘n Boo, so you must be Boo!”

“That’s right. You’re able to understand him?”

“Yep!” Jrum nodded. “When I go to visit my sort of big brother he lets me visit Prof and Prof likes to give me presents like a language translator! My brother has one too!”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“He’s Grum. We sort of got stuck in this world for a bit but we’re gonna try and find a way back and even if we can’t I’m sure our dads can find us!” Ranboo nodded and wrote down more in his book, making Jrum speak up again. “What’s that?”

“Oh, um… It’s my memory book. I’m not… entirely the best at remembering, so I write stuff down.”

“Oh! That’s cool!” Jrum smiled. “Well, I’m gonna go back to mining! Bye Michael! Bye Dad Boo!” And Jrum skipped away, humming a new song that mentioned being AFK.

“Mumbo! Mumbo Mumbo Mumbo Mumbo!” Grian started shouting, trying to get the redstoner’s attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look!” And Grian shoved his communicator in Mumbo’s face. “They’re alive! Or at least… they’re not completely gone!”

Tommy and Phil also came over to see what was going on as Mumbo read messages on Grian’s comm. “They both ran out of battery.”

“Yes! I mean, it’s not good because I doubt they have a way to charge again, which is not a good sign, but it means that they’re not gone forever!”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Phil asked and Grian showed him the phone.

“We set something up a while ago so we get notifications for them when something happens like they run out of battery or get badly damaged. Looking at the timestamps, these were sent while we were in Helscraft, but we didn’t get the notifications until coming back to this dimension.”

“Is there any way to track the signal?” Tubbo asked, making Grian light up.

“Maybe! It would take a lot of time though, so it might be good to have someone here work on that while we check the-” Grian stopped, his comm buzzing. “What?”

Tommy leaned in to read the new messages.

[Bot Status] Grum has run into a processing error

[Bot Status] Grum has run into a database error

[Bot Status] Grum has run into a mental error

[Bot Status] Grum has shut down due to extreme stress

[Bot Status] Jrum has encountered a virus

[Bot Status] Virus has been dealt with

[Bot Status] : )

[preciosaangelbby]

Tarotscopes

♡Intuitive channeled messages from me to you ♡

Aries-

You're probably thinking about starting a new business or creative project. Something you can start from your house. You need to do some research and gather all the information you need and set everything up so once the time comes to present this to the world it will take off. This project is your destiny and will somehow connect you to your life purpose or life partner. People will be very supportive once they see what you got going on. Someone has been spying on your social media a bit thinking if they should come forth or not. They will most likely come running forth once they see the success in your project...this could give you the wrong idea that this person might want to use you but they come running back because they don't want to loose you even though you both are in the 3d acting like yall don't know each other.

Taurus-

I see yall updating your wardrobe maybe some new hair or aesthetic procedure. Probably kinda going on a diet kinda eatting healthier. All this is adding to your high vibe which is attracting people towards you. New and old people tryna slide into the dm. One person in particular is obsessing over you in secret wishing they made different moves but ya know they ain't good enough for you. Just watch out this person don't pop up later on to start some drama because they are super immature. Its extra important to focus on work right now because there's some kind of extra payout coming like a bonus check or a promotion! Oooo and for some of you there's someone thats been thinking about you who lives at a distance that wants to marry you which will make you an instant millionaire. 🤑🥰

Gemini-

Yall are trying to improve yourselves completely. Some of you are getting new better jobs and going back to school! Stay focused and take care of your mental health. Stay clear of problematic people especially these next few months because I see a nasty tower moment that will take you off your good path right now if you don't. Let go of all the toxic people in your life its not worth not being alone. I see yall meeting a more stable mature grounded partner soon when you're doing your own thing focusing on your growth when you least expect it. SPIRITUALLY CLEANSE yourself daily. 🧿

Cancer-

You're definitely going to get a message from an ex soon. Lol I see them tryna flex on you! They wanna win you back with a gift🎁. The way they are going to message you is going to be acting concerned about you working right now during a pandemic and are going to offer to take care of you. But oooooou I see some of yall already moved into a fresh connection. If you go back into this connection you may become depressed but at least you'll be well dressed. For male cancers who are well off, careful that a pretty face don't come back around to use you for money.

Leo-

Multiple people want to be in a committed relationship with you. Someone's gonna pop the question and this is going to be an over the top flashy proposal. I see an age gap. And there's jealous bitches talking shit. I see someone who pretends to be your friend talking shit about you with your persons ex. Cleanse yourself 🧿🧿🧿!

Virgo-

Watch out for two faced friends or like a masculine energy family member. This person is giving you some bad advice. I see yall waiting for something that you have to go out and look for yourself. This person giving you bad advice clearly doesn't have or know how to get what you want. Whatever advice they give you it benefits them some how. Could be advice towards purchasing something they can use instead of putting that money somewhere else first. They want you to feel stuck to control you or make themselves feel better. If yall are interested in learning something new or getting a certification for something, it will benefit you greatly. 🤓

Libra-

Ok I see yall started a new business venture some months back. You're just starting to see some profits coming in! You've been consistent growing this even though many people are discouraging you. Deep down inside these people are jealous and wish they weren't so lazy to do what you're doing. Don't get discouraged cuz obviously you're onto something and this was the right time...you'll see why very soon. There's going to be expansion at the right place right time. But lay off the fast food and take your vitamins! You're going to need all your energy cuz you will be so busy. 🏋🏻

Scorpio-

Yall are going back and fourth in your head about reaching out to someone you haven't spoken to in a while. It could be a love interest or an old business associate. For those of you working on a creative project, its stressful but will be so successful. Like next level successful. So many people will praise you for this. Its all great but I see yall living in your head a lot because something feels like it's missing. I see yall very determined to get whatever this missing thing is. I heard the words in my head "ain't no mountain high enough."

Sagittarius-

There's like a business deal with someone in another state or country that may be delayed or a deal that does not benefit you. Becareful of where you go and what you sign. You have a lot of social media stalkers too sending you evil eye. Cleanse yourself and surround yourself with good people that you know you can trust. I see you making good money during these next weeks! 🤑🤑🤑

Capricorn-

You're a little confused about taking a chance on something or someone. Go on the date...you're not broke. What are you going to waste? Not time because this person interests you. If a relationship doesn't come out of this you still had a date with an interesting person. Oh ok I see some kind of work drama or fued you had finally coming to a close and of course in your favor because you have some kind of a background in business law and words that cut like a knife. 😅

Aquarius-

There's a past person coming back around. This person has been obsessed. You're always on their mind. Someone you don't even think of anymore. They are loosing sleep over you! I'm getting low vibing Cancer or Capricorn vibes. Be aware of your surroundings cuz this person seems like they could do something crazy. 🤨🤔

Pisces-

Oooou making money moves and its paying off! Yeah like you have a new attitude towards work or doing something like what you were doing but tweeked it to perfection. Whatever you're doing is helping you find balance and making you look super attractive. You're glowing and people are noticing👁! I see mutual attraction between you and the person on your mind. 🌟❤

[mediocre--writing]

How about Billy struggling with an eating disorder maybe? Billy might have bulimia (or maybe I’m projecting) and/or orthorexia. At one point it gets really bad maybe he goes to residential or Steve has to take care of him.

tw: eating disorder and mental health issues mentioned and discussed

so i have i friend from school who really struggled with orthorexia and obsessive working out to maintain a body image and they got really weak as a result. my friends and I had to watch him kinda fall down this rabbit hole and it was just awful. 

so i can see billy doing this. at first it’s because it’s basketball season and he needs to look his best and play his best and in order to do that, he has to be strong and eat right

and this boy is obsessed with his looks. you can’t tell me he doesn’t nitpick every single thing about himself every time he looks into the mirror. his hair just look nice, his abs must be defined, he wants to feel good

and he has control. eating healthy makes you feel good and energized and exercising has the same effects. the problem lies in getting too comfortable in that lull

billy doesn’t let himself eat the cupcake max got him for his birthday. he has to work out at least once a day, and if he misses a day, regardless of reason, he stretches himself to do double or triple the next day (or next few days)

eventually billy stops eating school cafeteria food. it’s got too many calories and too much sugar and he can’t stand how artificial everything tastes

after the season is over and billys back to regular life, he doesn’t stop. he’s become so dependent on having this thing he can control, the authority he has over his own body, he can’t let go

so he keeps working out dangerous amounts. he picks at susan’s cooking and only eats the meat and vegetables, not even looking at the rolls and dessert that comes with each meal

steve is the first to notice. he swears that nobody else can see what he does. they still have gym together, which results in showers together, and steve just notes that billy always looks more muscular every time he sees him

but it’s not good muscle. because with each muscle growth, billy loses that small bit of shape he had on his hips and the thickness of his thighs. he loses distinctive coloring in his face and steve swears he can see the veins through his hands under the harsh gym lighting

it’s not until steve and billy become friends, close friends, that steve really starts to see why billys body is changing

they’ve started hanging out at steve’s and are regularly in each others lives. sometimes billy even sleeps over

he sees the way billy eats fruits and vegetables and meat, but they won’t have seasonings or other spices. billy only drinks water. billy works out far too much for any person ever

after every meal, even if they’re just snacking, billy will start doing calf raises or push-ups or curl ups and it’s weird

it’s like after he eats he gets this guilt that can only be smothered by exercise and it’s just not healthy. but this is one of those things you can’t just bring up

it’s not until billy has so much muscle that you can’t even see the absolute minimum amount of fat on his body. he’s thinner now, and it’s just not the billy that steve knows

so he starts out slow. he puts a light colored, not very flavorful, seasoning on the chicken when billy stays over next. billy doesn’t realize and steve takes this as a win

the week after, steve stops billy from doing push ups after dinner. he forces him into the living room and they watch a movie. another win

steve keeps going for the next month or so, and he doesn’t see any change in billy, but assumes it will take time to see progress

billy knows what steve’s doing. he’s not sly. billy can’t explain the guilt he feels for missing his after dinner workout that one night and makes sure to run three miles rather than two for a warm up the next day. he also adds another few weights to his barbell

he likes that he’s strong. he’s eating the healthy foods, he’s building up muscle mass, so what’s the issue?

the issue truly lies in the afternoon that he and steve are just chilling in the living room and steve brings it up.

it’s more of an off handed comment about how much he works out

and billy gets kinda defensive. he’s all “well i have to look good and i can’t do that by lounging around all the time,”

and steve, trying not to take offense to it, responds with something about how billy may be over working himself and can go for a day without lifting weights or can take a cheat day and eat a bag of chips or ice cream

and billy just explodes. he rants about how it’s so bad for you to eat that kind of stuff and how there’s no way it’s healthy and how he likes the definition in his muscles so why should he “take a cheat day”?

billys breaking point is 4 little words:

“billy, you’re hurting yourself.”

and he just storms out of the house. gets in the camaro and drives away.

what the hell is steve on about anyway? so he enjoys working out, what’s that got to do with anything? he likes the way he feels after eating healthy, so what? and who the hell is he hurting making sure he’s happy and in control of his own body...

it hits him faster than a freight train. he pulls off the dingy back road he’d just been flying down and parks the car.

he puts his hands flat on the wheel and just stares at them. how bony his fingers have gotten.

his eyes trail up his arms. he sees the muscle he’s built but he also notices that he can see an extrusion where his veins run.

his jeans aren’t as tight anymore. he’s built muscle but lost the fat that filled his jeans. that gave him the nice look he was going for.

and billy doesn’t realize he’s crying until there’s a puddle on his jeans from where he’s bowed his head and that’s what broke him

he’s sobbing and sobbing and sobbing because this, the one thing he could control, has gotten out of control and he swears he’s gonna lose his mind.

steve, ever the mother hen, had been driving around hawkins just to make sure that billy was ok. he went by his house first, but it was just neils truck in the driveway.

he drove along every backroad until, of course the last one he checks, there it is, billys car.

and steve parks behind it and slowly walks up to billys car and taps on the window

billy flinches but doesn’t look up. he rolls down the window and steve just bends down, elbows resting on the door and eyes pitiful.

“bill,”

“you were right, i’m sorry,” it comes out so choked and garbled that steve barely registers what he’s saying. but steve slowly reaches a hand to billys hair and pushes it back, getting a view of his red, wet cheeks

“billy,” steve says, just as soft as before.

billy looks up, finally, and steve shouldn’t be surprised by how red and puffy his face is. “i didn’t mean to. it—it just, i don’t know, it got out of hand,”

“i know, billy, and it’s ok,”

“no,” it’s a crackly sound as billy cries harder at the thought that this, this whole situation, was ok. because he had control over it and it was gone so so so so quick

“let me help, billy, i promise you’re absolutely fine any way you look, but this isn’t healthy and i want to be there for you,”

billy doesn’t say anything. doesn’t know what to say. because if steve’s noticed then who else has? or does anyone else care about him at all?

there are questions bouncing around his head like a pinball machine but he hyper focuses on what steve said:

“i want to be there for you,”

maybe, to have full control, he needed someone else to show him that a guiding hand is better than an iron-tight grip.

and maybe he’ll get better. he knows steve won’t rest until he’s happy, as seen a million times before.

and billy wants to be happy. he wants to relinquish enough control to be happy. he knows he can accomplish that, with the guiding hand of steve.

and billy does get better.

it takes almost a year for the guilt to finally go away completely. it took him five months to stop feeling guilt to not work out after eating. it took him eight months to stop feeling guilt when eating a cupcake or ice cream. it took him a year to regain that healthy weight and find the perfect balance between muscle and fat

the good days were met with love and congratulations. the bad days were met with love and understanding. the days in between were met with love and whatever else billy needed.

and after the year it took for billy to almost fully understand the consequences of unchecked control over himself, a month later he asked steve on their first official date.

and billy realized that he needed to help himself as much as he needed someone to show him that every inch of him deserved love, no matter what it looked like