#I've been thinking about them for days sometimes quite intensely

[fragmentedblade]

.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt3) | Leah Williamson

A bit more of Leah while everything around you gets more intense warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 pt2 my masterlist

Leah's love for tennis skirts had just been solidified. She found herself frozen, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. Your video call had caught her off guard, and the first thing to greet her on the screen was you, your back facing the camera, only in your sports bra and the skirt you wore during your recent match, which had wrapped up just a few hours ago.

"Hellooo?" Leah said, gently placing her fork back onto the table.

"Just a sec!" you called out, still with your back turned to the camera.

Leah watched as you reached into your bag, pulling out a black t-shirt that you slipped on.  Unlike the tight one you wore for tennis, this one was baggy—definitely a guy’s shirt, she thought.

"Did you watch my match?" you asked, now facing the camera on your phone, which sat at the coffee table in the room.

"Yep" Leah replied, flipping her phone’s camera to show the TV tuned to the sports channel.  “Feeling nervous about the quarterfinals?” she asked, sounding both curious and supportive.

"Nah... I don't know who I'll be facing yet though," you said, slipping off your socks. "At least I’ve got two days to rest before the game."

"Yeah, like you’ll actually rest," Leah teased.

"You're probably right," you chuckled knowing she had you figured out. During your first call yesterday, you had explained your intense training routine before matches. "What are you having?" you asked Leah, curiosity evident in your voice as you held your phone again.

"Smiley faces," Leah said, poking a potato and showing it to you through the camera.

"What?" you laughed, not quite sure what she was showing you.

"Potato smiles. Delicious," she said, grinning as she popped the potato into her mouth.

"Ew! Didn't your mum teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, though you found it amusing to watch Leah goof around. "Do they taste like real potatoes? I've never tried them."

"What are you talking about?" Leah gasped, dramatically dropping her fork onto her plate. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whoa, you sound genuinely offended," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

"Of course I am! How is it possible you've never tasted these? What did you eat all through your childhood?" she asked, her face completely serious.

"Leah... would you believe me if I told you I didn't try a nugget until I was 16?" you said, your tone turning more serious. "It was when a friend from school invited me over for dinner. My mum was always particular about what I ate." Leah's expression turned to a slight frown as she listened intently. "I always had well-balanced, hearty meals. She just wasn't a fan of processed food," you said, hoping to provide context and prevent any misconceptions about your mother.

"Sounds... kind of sad," Leah said, finishing her last potato. "I should invite you over for smiley faces, shouldn't I?" she asked with a shy smile.

"You could... I'd gladly accept," you replied.

"I'll think about it," Leah said, shaking her head with a playful grin. After a brief pause, her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, intrigued.

"Today, something caught my eye. Well, actually, it's been catching my eye for a while now, but I think I've finally spotted a pattern," Leah explained, narrowing her eyes. "Your chain around your neck... I've seen you tug on it from time to time."

By reflex, your hand went to your neck, and you felt a brief panic when you didn't feel the chain right away, realizing it was hidden beneath your shirt.

"Is it something significant to you?" Leah asked.

"Yes and no. It's kind of silly," you replied, settling into bed and arranging the phone between the pillows. "Sometimes when I'm feeling nervous or a bit anxious, I tug on it to remind myself it's there, but it's not a big deal to me. I started wearing it a few years ago for a silly reason."

You hesitated, thinking you might bore Leah with the details. But seeing her through the screen, now cozy on her couch with a blanket over her legs and a smile on her face, you realized that perhaps this time someone would actually be interested in listening to you.

"I've never been picky," you began to explain. "I never asked my parents for anything special. They always gave me everything I needed, especially when it came to things that could improve my game. But as for gifts, I always felt too embarrassed to ask for certain things." You bit your lip, trying to stay on track with your story. "The thing is, I always wanted a chain. I didn't care much about the material. Everyone at the academy had one, boys and girls. It's a common accessory, after all. I wanted to be like them."

You fell silent, suddenly feeling a bit silly for sharing such trivial details. Leah, however, misinterpreted your silence and blank stare, thinking she had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Did someone special give you the chain you wear?" Leah's gentle voice interrupted your thoughts.

"No," you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. "I bought it myself. That's why it has my initial on it," you explained, holding the chain up to the camera.

Leah felt conflicted. On one hand, the story ended with a bit of humor, but on the other, there was a hint of sadness. It was the kind of gift typically given by a loved one or partner, and in the end, you had to buy it for yourself… which was a bit sad.

"After I won my first WTA title, I had quite a bit of money, so I went to the first jewelry store I could find and bought it," you explained.

You noticed the puzzled expression on Leah's face; she had gone silent when you expected her to laugh at the end of the story. You smiled nervously, wondering if you were diving too deep into conversations with her.

"Maybe she thinks you're weird," the insecurity echoed in your head.

Just then, a notification popped up on your phone, rescuing you from overthinking.

"Ugh, I've got to go meet Lucas. He wants to work on my serve," you said, standing up quickly with your phone in hand.

"You have a great serve," Leah said without hesitation.

"You're only saying that because you're a fan," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that always fluttered when Leah complimented your game.

"Exactly, and I watch every move you make," she said, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How adorable," you thought to yourself.

"Tell your coach you don't need any improvement," Leah said.

"He's my coach. I pay him to help me get better," you said as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah, whatever," Leah responded with a playful smirk.

"Do you buy the whole love at first sight thing? Ouch!" you winced as your physio applied pressure, stretching your leg into a position that felt tight.

"Take a deep breath," advised your therapist, easing off the pressure. "There you go," she said, gently returning your leg to its natural position.

"It's not something I believe in, in case you're wondering," you said, laying face down on the table and removing your headphones. Conversations during your physio sessions were rare, you typically dozed off, hence the headphones to drown out the noise around you.

"I guess that's not your cup of tea," your physio chuckled softly, now focusing on massaging your calves. "Is she pretty? They say love often comes in through the eyes, especially if it's love at first sight, as you said."

"She's definitely pretty, yeah," you admitted, wincing as your therapist's thumbs applied pressure into your muscles. "Geez, who said these sessions were relaxing?" you muttered, closing your eyes to bear the discomfort. "She's pretty, but it's more than that... I feel like I can talk to her."

"Y/N, you talk with tons of people every day," your therapist reminded you. "Honestly, you never seem to stop talking," she added with a laugh.

"It's different with her. I can talk about anything, even tennis, but there's no pressure... It's like talking to her puts me at ease," you explained.

It was so calming that you had fallen asleep chatting with her the last two nights.

"I shouldn't be catching feelings for someone I'm just getting to know," you sighed.

"Well, actually, it's perfectly normal," your physio reassured you.

You sighed with relief as the tension in your muscles began to ease under her skilled hands. It wasn't a sigh of relief because someone validated your growing feelings for Leah. Definitely not.

"There are times when love hits you fast and hard, you know? When it's intense." the woman explained, now focusing on your back. "And you, my dear, are intense. It wouldn't be surprising if you fell in love just as fast."

"I haven't fallen in love," you protested, attempting to sit up from the table, but your therapist effortlessly kept you pinned down with a swift motion.

"And you're impulsive," she added with a tired sigh, familiar with your reactions. "I'm surprised you haven't declared yourself to her already."

"There is no one," you insisted.

"You've already admitted there's a pretty girl and that you have feelings for her, even if you're not quite sure what those feelings are yet," she teased with a mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone special," she suggested, helping you onto your back on the table. "She could be good for you… here" she said, gently touching your heart. "And here," she continued, touching your temple with her finger.

"What are we watching?" Lia asked, settling down next to Leah on the couch. They had planned a dinner date to catch up, but Lia suspected it was more about Leah avoiding another night of cooking.

"There's a match about to start," Leah replied, quickly grabbing the remote from her friend's hands.

Lia glanced at the screen, which now displayed the stats of two tennis players. "Has Wimbledon started already?"

"No," Leah sighed, rolling her eyes. "There are tournaments throughout the year, not just the Grand Slams," she explained, her focus on the screen.

"Since when are you an expert on this?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's basic knowledge, not all sports revolve around football," Leah defended herself as the players stepped onto the court.

"Is this match a big deal?" 

"It's the quarterfinals," Leah replied.

"How do they win?" Lia inquired further.

"They win by taking two sets." Leah explained, her irritation starting to show.

"And how do they win those sets?" Lia pressed on.

"God, Lia, just watch and you'll figure it out," Leah snapped, feeling her nerves creeping in. She was clearly on edge.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Lia eyed her suspiciously.

"What's wrong with her? What's she doing?" murmured Leah, leaning back on the couch, her eyes glued to the match on the tv screen.

"Huh?" Lia turned to her.

"She's struggling to reach her shots," Leah pointed out, just as you lost another point. "She had the match in her bag."

It was true. You had started strong, winning the first set 6-1 and even taking a 4-1 lead in the second set. But now, your opponent had fought back, and you found yourself in a 1-6 tiebreaker, unable to secure more than a single point.

"Set point," was announced on the tv, and Leah waved her hand.

You positioned yourself, shifting from side to side, anticipating your opponent's serve. But before you could react, she sent a powerful shot down the line, leaving you with no chance to return it.

"Bloody hell," Leah exclaimed, standing up from the couch.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so into tennis," Lia remarked, intrigued by Leah's intense reaction.

"It just frustrates me when they give away easy points during a match," Leah explained, which was partly true. Your unforced errors had contributed to your opponent's comeback in the set.

Leah let out a long sigh and sank back onto the couch. She couldn't relax until you managed to turn the match around and win the third set tiebreaker 7-4, securing your spot in the semifinals. You had come dangerously close to losing your spot in the semifinals.

Leah couldn't bring herself to try talking to you all day. It had been a dreadful match, one of the worst she had ever seen you play. Despite not knowing you that well, Leah figured you probably needed some space and didn't want to talk to anyone for a while. She had watched you storm off the court after the match, something she had never seen you do before. The heated exchanges with the chair umpire and the tense moments with your coach had been impossible to ignore. 

She had only mustered the courage to send a brief message: 

"Hope you're doing okay." 

But you hadn't responded yet.

So, when she was already tucked up in bed, half asleep, she was surprised to see an incoming video call from you.

"Y/N?" Leah replied, not looking at the screen as she fumbled to switch on her nightstand lamp.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up." you apologized.

"I wasn't quite asleep yet," Leah said, finally turning her attention to the screen. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting up in bed, noticing your slightly red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah," you lied, settling back on the couch and pulling your blanket up to your neck. "What about you? How was your day?"

"I just watched your match, which was horrible," Leah thought, feeling sorry for you, but instead she replied, "Not much. I just had dinner with some friends."

Leah couldn't help but smile as she saw your features relax at her answer. She knew you had probably anticipated her bringing up the match. You had mentioned how intense your day usually was: tennis talk at breakfast, tennis talk in the afternoon, tennis talk at dinner.

"Nothing too delicious," Leah continued. "Did you have dinner?"

You didn't respond verbally, instead, you shook your head and bit your lip, a sign of your struggle to hold back tears. Leah immediately noticed.

"I was running late and didn't feel like eating alone," you explained. "But my physio brought me a sandwich about half an hour ago. I'm just not hungry."

Leah frowned. She mentally calculated the hours since the match had ended at noon. Considering the disastrous game, you probably hadn't eaten afterward, and your stomach was likely empty except for breakfast.

"You should eat," Leah insisted gently.

"I don't want to eat alone, it's... depressing," you admitted, sinking further into the couch. Leah could barely see your mouth now, the blanket covering you.

"Okay, hold on," Leah said, letting out a sigh as she got out of bed. She placed the phone on her bed and reached for a hoodie. "Come on," she said, picking up her phone again.

You watched through the screen as Leah left her room and headed to her kitchen, leaving the phone on the counter.

"Okay, what kind of sandwich did you get?"

"Huh?"

"I'll eat with you," Leah explained simply, reaching for the bag of bread. "Well?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was such a tender gesture, one that softened your heart. Leaning over to the coffee table, you picked up the bag your physio had left there. You hadn't even opened it yet.

"Let me see..." you said, pulling out the sandwich and reading the ingredients on the box. "Tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and salad cream."

"Ugh, not my favorite," Leah said, her face visible at the edge of the screen as she looked through her fridge.

"What's your favorite?" you asked, starting to unwrap your sandwich. Suddenly feeling your appetite return.

"I'm a ham and cheese girl. I like to keep it simple," Leah explained, already assembling her own sandwich.

"Sounds boring," you teased with a chuckle. Leah stuck her tongue out at you. "I prefer egg sandwiches. Probably the store didn't have any."

"What else did your physio get you?"

"Uh... a bottle of water and a bottle of juice."

"Orange?" Leah guessed, reaching for a box of orange juice.

"Yes," you confirmed, smiling as you watched Leah return to the couch, settled in just like you with a blanket on her lap. She held up her sandwich to the camera.

"Shall we eat?"

An hour later, you were in bed, with Leah still on the screen, tucked under her own sheets. The time had flown by as Leah passionately tried to convince you why Arsenal was the top club in London.

"Uh, according to Google, the men's team hasn't won a league since 2004," you teased in a mocking tone, enjoying Leah's furrowed brow and her stumbling attempts to defend her team. "And the women's team... maybe I shouldn't say anything," you added innocently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oi! You're being mean!" Leah protested. "I just won a cup, you know?"

Of course you knew, you had seen the post on Leah’s instagram. 

"Winning a cup isn't quite the same as winning a league," you continued to tease.

"What would you know about it? You only just learned the difference between a cup and a league because I explained it to you," Leah retorted, though she couldn't help but crack a smile. Despite her attempt to feign annoyance, she couldn't shake the sense of relief seeing you in a better mood than an hour ago "You're such a headache sometimes.”

"Sorry," you said between laughs. "Well, I'd better get some sleep. Got an early start tomorrow."

Leah's heart sank at the reminder of your upcoming semifinal match. She knew you had pushed yourself to the limit today, both physically and mentally.

"Thank you," you added, catching Leah off guard.

"Huh?" Leah's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For not bringing that up," you explained, your cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "I really appreciate it... I just needed to talk to someone. And you're easy to talk to."

Leah's heart skipped a beat. 

"It was nothing. You can talk to me anytime, about anything, including that," Leah assured, offering you a warm smile.

You fell silent for a moment, your eyes closed. Leah almost thought you had drifted off to sleep until she heard your voice again.

"I've never won a semifinal match on grass," you confessed. "I hate playing on grass. I can't move like I want to, can't slide, the ball bounces weird... It's a faster game, and I don't like it."

Leah struggled to find the right words to comfort you, though it seemed you weren't seeking comfort. You just needed to vocalize your thoughts.

"Well… get some good rest," you said "Speak to you tomorrow."

"Sleep well," Leah replied softly, just before you disappeared from her screen.

Leah hadn't been able to watch your game; she'd been tied up with a radio interview in the afternoon. Perhaps it was a good thing, sparing her from witnessing what felt like a complete disaster.

You were trailing 1-0 after losing the first set 6-2.

"Y/N, listen up," Lucas's voice echoed in your head as you wiped your face with your towel. He sounded both concerned and frustrated. "You've got to get up to the net. Focus and do it just like we practiced this morning.”

The tension intensified in the second set, now tied at 3-3. Each point intensified, increasing the pressure on your already fatigued body.

Struggling to steady your breath and calm your racing heart, you attempted to regain your composure. Lucas's instructions only seemed to agitate you further. Your serves lacked accuracy and power, the weight of exhaustion settled in your arms and legs.

With your breath hitching, you turned to Lucas "Gotta keep your mouth shut," you muttered to him, before returning to your position on the court.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut out your coach's voice which, instead of helping, was only adding to the overwhelming pressure and fear of failure creeping in. 

For a while, you felt completely disconnected from the game, just focusing on getting the ball back over the net and hoping for the best. Your ears felt muffled, you swung at balls in every direction, chasing after them when your legs allowed. It felt like your body was on autopilot.

When you finally regained control, you glanced at the scoreboard. It read 5-4, with the set tied at 30-30. Had you been playing for that long already?

"Just 2 more points and I'm out," you muttered to yourself, accepting the ball from the ball kid who hesitated a moment before returning to her position. Your emotional state must have caught her attention, you could feel tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall now. You couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them.

You adjusted your visor lower, not too concerned that it obstructed your view. After all, you were resigned to the inevitable defeat, recovering from this set, let alone the entire match, felt beyond your grasp.

Taking a deep breath, you served. Your opponent effortlessly returned the ball, and when you sent it back, she executed a perfect drop shot with spin. Despite your best efforts, your legs failed to get you to the net before the ball bounced a second time. 

All you could do was shake your head and chuckle at the brilliance of the shot. It was a damn good point.

The next rally was a bit longer. Determined to get at least a point, you decided to take a calculated risk. You placed the ball strategically close to the net, hoping to force your opponent into a difficult position. Yet, she managed to return the ball, forcing you to approach the net. Anticipating her move, you weren't surprised when the ball sailed over your head, landing just inside the line behind you.

And with that, it was over.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you shouted as Lucas and your physio entered the dressing room. You pointed your racket at him. "I don't want to hear a word from you!"

"Y/N, calm down," Lucas said, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I said no! Get out!" Tears streaked down your face, your voice raw with frustration. "You're the reason I lost!" you accused him, venom lacing your words as you vented on your racket, smashing it against the ground. "You told me to charge the net," you seethed, the anger palpable. "And what happens? She pulls off the damn shot of her life!"

Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely his fault.

Lucas struggled to make out your words through your sobs and the racket's crashing impact. He signaled to your physio to grab your bag of remaining rackets before you decided to destroy another one.

"You need to cool off," your physio interjected, her tone firm.

"I need everyone to leave me the hell alone!" you yelled, throwing the shattered pieces of your racket against the wall in a burst of frustration.

Lucas shook his head and firmly guided you to sit on the bench. "Listen to me," he said,but you shook your head, lost in your thoughts. Frustrated, Lucas removed your visor and tossed it aside to get a clear view of your face, then gently tilted your chin to meet his eyes. "I said listen to me, kiddo."

You met his gaze, holding your breath. He looked visibly upset, his brow furrowed deeper than usual. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed the new wrinkles and more gray hairs, likely a result of the stress you often caused him.

"You played well today," he continued, his voice steady but firm, still holding your gaze. "But she played better. It's not a reflection of your performance, it's not about you playing badly. Can we improve? Absolutely. And we will, I promise you that. But for now, we need to stop."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"You're drained," your physio chimed in. "Your body can't handle more. Your muscles are exhausted."

"And your mind isn't much better. Since the first game you've been clouded," Lucas added, sighing. "We're heading back to England first thing tomorrow."

"Eastbourne?" you asked. 

Lucas shook his head. "No, you won't be playing in any more tournaments until Wimbledon. I've made it clear, you need to stop," he said firmly, now taking a seat beside you. "We're heading to London. Your psychologist is already there."

You had resisted having a psychologist travel with your team for months, but now circumstances were different.

"You'll see the psychologist tomorrow and then you'll rest for a few days. Your rackets are off-limits," your physio said, your bag slung over her shoulder as she tried to lighten the mood. "Seriously, no tennis, not even for fun," she added quickly, when she saw you about to protest. "We'll focus on light gym sessions, nothing more. These are your days off, you'll do anything but tennis."

You nodded, feeling somewhat scolded, almost like a child.

As the tension eased, the reality of a few days off in London began to sink in.

"Leah," you muttered. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" Lucas turned to you when he heard your voice. You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud.

"What time is our flight?"

[eufezco]

DADS — Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/N — Just some headcanons of them as dads. I'm going through a writer's block and this is the only thing I've been able to finish 🥹 I'll try to post something better tomorrow english isn't my first language

BILLY HARGROVE

Billy would go so soft for a baby girl. He would learn how to tie her hair into ponytails, braids, buns and actually be good at it. She would have his dark blonde hair with some curls too, her eyes intensively blue like his dad and a beautiful smile like his. The rest of her little face would be just like yours. Your nose, your lips, your cheeks. It was the perfect combination of you two. Billy would drive her to kindergarten and school every day, sending deathly glances to any boy who gets suspiciously close to her.

Really attentive during your pregnancy and always tries to hide how soft he gets when he sees you carrying his child. Billy also gives the best back rubs ever, his hands are big and strong, his fingers skilled as nobody's. He's always up to help you relieve some stress, you sitting in between his legs and sighing at how his hans worked on your back.

Billy's dad was an asshole and he needed to ask someone for help so he would end up going to Max's mother, the woman really glad that he comes to her before making the same mistakes as his dad. She'd teach him how to cook some basic dishes, what you could and couldn't eat, what he needed to bring to the hospital by the time you gave birth, and how to make you feel better like holding your belly from behind, helping you to shower, foot massages...

Hate to say this but he hates when the baby cries at night and would probably let you go to take care of her every single time. He would make it up for you in the morning tho, letting you sleep more time and him taking care of the baby.

Billy would never admit it but he secretly loves when Max interacts with the baby. He would act all stubborn when Max and you play with the baby, you smiling when Max softly puts her headphones on the baby's ears and play some soft music. The baby humming and trying to grab Max's walkman. Billy would watch the scene from the distance with butterflies in his stomach.

Billy would love wrapping the baby with his leather jacket like a burrito. The baby snuggling and enjoying his dad's cologne and Billy just rocking her between his arms.

He would quit smoking or at least he'd never do it around the baby. He stopped when you got pregnant, and it was pretty hard for him at first. Billy would go on night walks alone just so he could smoke but when you started to feel pain, puking, and basically needing him by your side, Billy forgot about smoking.

His favorite part of parenthood is admiring how pretty his baby girl is. She'd have these deep blue eyes just like him but she'd have the same features as you, making Billy love her even more if possible. Sometimes he would just lay on the bed with her, bumping her nose, squeezing her cheeks, or tickling her belly. The baby trying to suck on his dad's fingers every time they got close to her face, trying to grab them with her tiny little hands, and Billy just tickling her palm, making her giggle.

EDDIE MUNSON

Oh, he would rock with a little girl with the same deep brown eyes as him and with his messy curly hair too. You adoring how your daughter looks just like his dad and thinking of how she would probably inherit Eddie's personality and hobbies too (not the drug dealing, of course) like playing guitar and playing D&D.

Eddie would buy her every metal band t-shirt he could find, even if she was still a baby and won't understand nor enjoy that type of music. If there wasn't her size, he'd just use one of his on her. Eddie's shirt being bigger than the toddler and making her look like a ghost walking around the house.

Of course, Eddie stopped smoking before the baby was born, when he heard you coughing one time. Also stopped drug dealing a long time ago. He probably kept doing it after you two moved in together so he could maintain you two and not only live with your salary. But he'd find a proper job and he'd love it. He’d work at a music store, surrounded by tapes and vinyls of his favorite artists and recommending customers the best guitar for them. Nevertheless, his favorite part of the work was getting home to his baby girl waiting for him and clumsily walking to him just for Eddie to pick her up in his arms and devour her with kisses.

He's a fun dad, he's always up to play or spend time with his daughter even if he is busy doing something else, like practicing with Corroded Coffin. Eddie would stop the rehearsal immediately and the boys wouldn't care less because they also loved spending time with the little girl. But your daughter only likes one of Eddie's friends, and that is Dustin. He is always super thorough with her, tickling her belly when she was a baby and making the little her softly kick her feet and move her small arms full of joy. Dustin would also give to her all of his toys from when he was younger, her loving every action figure and every dinosaur. He's your trusted babysitter when Eddie wants to take you on a date.

Eddie would buy her her own guitar. When she was a toddler, he got a toy guitar for her so she could familiarise with the instrument, the baby just pinching the strings without any sense. When she started growing up, Eddie go t her a real one and he'd teach her some basics so she could decide if she liked it. Also, he'd sit your daughter on his lips and play piano, the two-year-old girl hypnotized by the melody her dad was playing, even though her favorite part was when Eddie let her smack the keys with her tiny hands.

Sometimes his sleep was so deep he wouldn't hear her crying at night and he'd feel guilty in the morning for you having to wake up, you assuring him by kissing his cheeks that you didn't mind. But other times Eddie would wake up even before she could start crying, it was like a sixth sense.

The baby loves playing with Eddie's long hair, sometimes pulling it hard enough to make his dad whine. Her curls would be crazy, he learned how to control them in two ponytails so they wouldn't get on her face. When she was a baby and couldn't complain about her hair, Eddie loved trying different hairstyles on her, using water to create a perfect mohican on her that got your mouth open once you got home from work "She's a rockstar." Eddie would allege.

JONATHAN BYERS

I see Jonathan with a baby boy. He's got some experience being a father figure to Will so he knows how to handle a little boy. If it's a girl, he'd have heart eyes all the time. I mean, he had El but she was already a teenager when she moved with them to California, so a little girl would be a dream for him.

He panics all the time during your pregnancy, thinking he's gonna hurt you or that he's gonna mess it up at any time. The truth is that he's super careful with you and it was practically impossible for him to hurt you, even unintentionally. Jonathan would insist on sleeping in the couch, alleging that it is for you to have more space but he's just scared of hurting your belly or you not sleeping well because of him. You'd wake up in the middle of the night and go to the living room, shaking Jonathan carefully and telling him that you couldn't sleep without him.

Jonathan relies on Joyce a lot, he'd even take notes of every advice his mom gives him, and he's got so many questions because he wants not only to be the best father but the best partner for you too. His dad was an asshole so he knew specially what he didn't have to do and what he would've liked his own dad to do, so he just needed to know what he could do for you.

You'd basically moved in with the Byers house during your pregnancy, all of them being super supportive and helping you both through your pregnancy. El and Will being the best entertainment when Jonathan was working, Hopper cooking the most delicious food you've ever tried and going to the grocery store when you were having cravings, and Joyce buying a bigger bed to Jonathan's room so you could sleep together.

The baby would be Jonathan's new favorite thing to photograph. He didn't like polaroid cameras until you got pregnant. Taking pics of you sleeping, of your and his hand on your belly... He would always have a camera around to photograph his child: playing in the park, on the first kindergarten/school day, when you dressed him up as a pumpkin during the first Halloween, and with his tiny and round face stained with cake on his birthday... Jonathan would be always taking pictures of you and the baby, keeping the polaroids in his wallet, in the glove compartment of his car, and even stuck on the wall of his place of work.

He's the one waking up in the middle of the night when the baby cries. Whispering to you to go back to sleep and kissing your forehead. Stumbling on his feet, trying to get to the baby's room as fast as he could, not even thinking of letting you handle the situation. Once the baby stopped crying, he would take him to your bed, lying him in between you two and Jonathan with one of his hands always having some type of contact with the baby to know that he's fine.

His favorite part is putting the baby to sleep. He's a pretty calm guy so it's quite easy for him to transmit that calmness to his son, the baby humming and squirming in his dad's arms at how comfortable he was and probably would start crying the moment Jonathan puts him down on his crib. He'd also help you to sleep later, having your head resting on his lap and playing with your hair until you fall asleep.

He's always telling you that you are the best mom or that you are doing so good with the kid, kissing your cheeks and giving you the best heartwarming compliments, basically making you feel so loved. Joyce told him that some new mothers sometimes felt like they weren't doing good enough for their children, so he's always making sure that you know how well you are doing and how happy and healthy your baby looks thanks to you.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Best dad ever. He would only have eyes for you and your daughter, Steve literally lives for both of you. Probably he wouldn't wait until your girl is one-year-old to start talking about having another child.

The happiest man alive when he you told him that you were pregnant. He'd kiss and talk to your belly all the time, resting his hand there, applying lotion to your stretch marks, and always making sure that you're feeling comfortable. It was like your daughter could feel when Steve was around because she'd start kicking you like crazy. "We can't wait to see you, baby.","I love you too baby, but you need to let mommy sleep."

Your baby was so loved even before she was born. And so were you during your pregnancy. Steve was by your side every minute of it. He'd cook you the most delicious meals and the sweetest cakes to help your cravings. Steve would make sure that you were drinking enough water, he'd help you to shower, and make you feel beautiful. Hugging you tightly against him, massaging every aching part of your body, and basically not letting you get up from the couch unless you needed to use the bathroom.

Steve would fall asleep with the baby between his arms all the time. Him sitting on the rocking chair next to the baby's crib falling asleep at the same time as your daughter and forgetting to put her in the crib, you going to the room to know why Steve was taking so long just to find that cute scene. Also, him sitting on the couch after work with the little girl peacefully napping on his chest, his arms wrapped around her so she didn't fall. When she was old enough to have a proper bed, he'd lay down with her and hug her against him, tell her a story and she would be sleeping in less than ten minutes. The little girl sighing in her sleep thanks to how comfortable her dad was.

Steve is always so warm, the baby loves being between his arms. When she was a toddler, she would cry her lungs out until Steve picked her up and peppered her small face with kisses while hugging her. At nights, she would sneak into your room and lay between you and Steve, or by your side so you could hug her and Steve could hug you both.

Steve's favorite part of coming home from work is finding his daughter waiting for him to play with her, you'd tell him that he needed to rest, but there's no way he's going to sleep instead of playing with her, he wouldn't care about if he's exhausted. He'd also love when you and her would fall asleep waiting for him. He'd give each of you a kiss and get into bed too.

He loves movie nights with you and her. Steve would rent movies for her all the time. He knows her favorites and he could watch them with her for the entire day, he'd find himself after mumbling the words of the Disney songs. When she was a toddler, Steve would fall asleep during the movie and when you'd shake his shoulders softly to wake him up, he'd say that 'there's no strong plot'. You'd smile at him. 'Of course not baby, it's a movie for children.'

Steve would sit the baby on his lap and try her to say 'daddy'. He could be there for hours, smiling at his daughter when she would try to mumble something similar to what her dad was saying, waving her hands happily and letting her head fall into Steve's chest when she was tired of trying. He'd kiss the top of her head and let her rest before keep trying. "Baby, I need to feed her-" Steve shushed you, and you raised your eyebrows. "She almost got it..." Both of you looked at the baby babbling until she got to say clearly the word 'daddy'. "Yes, yes, yes! That's my girl, well done!" Steve kissed all her little face, making her giggle.

[badkitty3000]

Addicted

Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This is a short one shot I decided to write on a whim. I am new to posting on Tumblr, but you can check out my full works here on AO3. This one is also a bit different than my other works, as it's more abstract.

I am open to requests, so if you have any Five-centric one shots you'd like me to write, please feel free to ask under the Ask Me Anything button on my profile. I've also never asked for requests before, but I will do my best to fulfill them!

Addicted:

You can’t stop looking at the clock. An hour must have gone by, but when you check it again, it’s only been a few minutes. The night is going by at a crawling pace and as the seconds tick by, the more your anxiety is growing.

Don’t do it

You’re better than this

You’ve been doing so well

You don’t need him

Don’t do it

It doesn’t matter, though. You can tell yourself a thousand times to stop thinking about him, but it’s not going to stop. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cursed yourself for caving in and calling him. It’s an endless loop of want and regret.

You know how it’s going to go, that’s the pathetic part. You know you’re going to feel like shit the next day, and the day after that, and for another week after that. That’s how it always goes. And yet, you keep giving in. You keep punishing yourself.

Because, god damn it, he makes you feel good.

He’s your addiction. Your drug. And you’re constantly chasing that high.

Just thinking about it, about him, makes your skin hot and you can’t sit still. You’re jittery and pacing, and it’s all-consuming. The more you try to push it from your mind, the harder it comes crashing back. Second by second, minute by minute; he’s creeping into your brain, moving in, and taking up residence.

You’re sitting at home with nothing for company except some bourbon. Bourbon that reminds you of him. And you know you’re going to do it. It’s after one in the morning but you know he’s awake. Just one phone call and he’ll be there. No matter what you said to him the last time, he’ll pretend nothing is wrong and he’ll come anyway.

You know how it’s going to go, too. It’s the same every time. You’ll talk a little, have a drink or two, and wait until the tension eases. Then you’ll start to notice all of the little things that drive you crazy. The casual way he leans back, crossing one leg over the other. The way he looks at you, with that stupid self-satisfied smirk, and that fucking dimple in his cheek. And his hands. His hands doing anything, really. God, you love his hands.

Then you’ll look at him in some way; you’re not sure how, but he’ll know. He’ll lean in towards you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body and smell the faded scent of after shave that was put on much earlier in the day. He’ll lean in with that intense gaze of his, scanning your body and then your face; green eyes flashing and dark brows furrowing. He’ll reach out and touch you in some way. Maybe your hand, or your cheek; it doesn’t matter. One touch and you’re fucking toast.

The next few hours will go by in a blur. Skin slicked with sweat, lungs gasping for air, bodies tangled together. It will be everything you need and want, and fuck, it will feel so good. Until it doesn’t.

But right now, as you check the clock for what has to be the twentieth time in the last five minutes, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t care. And you pick up your phone.

You could text, but he hates texting and it’s just easier to call. You want to hear his voice, anyway. Like some weird little mental appetizer before the main course. You take a sip from your glass, the condensation dripping onto your phone screen.

“You know it’s the middle of the night,” he says as a way of a greeting, and you can hear the smug smile forming on his face.

“Is it? Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed,” you reply, trying to match his usual snark.

There’s a slight pause. “I thought you said you were done with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or if he’s genuinely confused. “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You said I was an insensitive asshole,” he reminds you.

“And I stand by that statement.”

There’s another pause and you can hear the phone shifting a bit. “So, were you just calling to remind me of that, or was there something else I can do for you?”

Of course, he’s teasing you now. He knows damn well why you’re calling. But he’s going to make you say it.

You clear your throat a bit. “Yeah well…I can’t sleep and I don’t know anyone else that stays up this late so…”

“So, you thought maybe I could help you sleep?”

Fuck, you really hate him right now! But, sure, why not? This little charade of yours isn’t going to last much longer anyway.

“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I thought.”

There’s a second of silence and you know he’s thinking about whether or not to continue to draw this out and really make you sweat, or to put you out of your misery.

“I did just get back from a job. I haven’t showered yet.”

Dammit, you’re already feeling the dampness between your legs at that little visual. Which is exactly why he said it.  

“I don’t mind. You can shower here.”

There’s a low, quiet laugh on the other end and you roll your eyes at your desperateness.

“Alright. Be there soon.”

After you hang up, the only thing you can do is wait. And torture yourself even more by running through some very graphic scenarios in your mind. You pour another drink for yourself, and one for him, too. Then you wait some more.

You know it won’t take him long to get there. You also know he won’t bother to knock or use the door. He’ll just appear, like some magical fuck genie, ready to grant you three earth shattering orgasms in the position of your choice.

You’re sitting there on your couch, with the only light coming from a small lamp on one of the side tables, when he warps in; a nanosecond of blue before it’s gone and it’s just him standing there. You sit up straighter when you see him, glass in hand. He gives you that knowing smirk and you give him one right back.

In the dim light, you can make out the lines of his body; the sharp angles of his face. You can see he really did just get back from a job, because he hasn’t bothered to change out of his suit. The jacket is unbuttoned and his tie is loosened. But otherwise, he’s the perfect picture of a suave executive or maybe a cologne model. Or an assassin.

When you stand up, you bring him the glass of bourbon you had poured, and he takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the transfer. After he takes a sip, he looks at you with that same infuriating expression that makes you want to punch him right in his gorgeous face.

“Did you miss me?” he asks with a grin.

You smile and shake your head. “Not in the slightest. Did you miss me?”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

You’ve already decided you’re not going to draw this out. Why prolong the misery? The more time you take in trying to pretend this is something else, the more time it’s going to take for you to move on the next day. So, you’re going to cut straight to the chase this time. You take another step forward until you’re close enough to see the dark green of his eyes and the soft shadow of stubble on his face. Leaning in, you brush your body against his, tipping your face up, while at the same time hooking a finger into one of his belt loops, giving it a sharp tug. He makes a quiet grunting noise, his eyes meeting yours.

One corner of your mouth turns up. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just extremely happy to see me again?”

He raises one eyebrow, not moving. “Why don’t you find out.”

Without taking your eyes off of his, you move a hand to the front of his black fitted slacks and run a finger into the inside of the waistband. When you feel it, your smile grows bigger. As you pull out the pistol, you hold it in the palm of your hand, liking the weight of it and the sleek, simple design.

“I guess I was hoping for something else, but this is pretty fucking sexy, too.”

He only smiles and takes the gun from you, setting it on the coffee table, along with his drink.

“What? Don’t trust me?” you ask slyly.

When he grabs you around the waist and pulls you closer, the movement is swift and forceful.

“Absolutely not,” he answers before leaning down slowly, a few strands of hair falling forward and over his eye in the process.

His kisses start out soft, testing the waters, then gradually intensify. First a gentle brush against your mouth, then a playful bite on your lower lip. Soon he is slipping his tongue inside, breathing hard through his nose, and moving a hand to the back of your head.

If there had been even a tiny speck of resolve left in you before, it’s gone now. As soon as his lips are against yours, you give in. You will let him do anything to you without protest, you’re certain of that. And not just physically. You’re going to let him burrow into your brain again, pump your body full of dopamine and oxytocin, and start your addiction anew. You’re going to relapse hard and the withdrawal is going to suck.

But right before that…it’s going to feel so fucking good.

As he strips you of your clothes and your will power, you stand back and let him look at you. You know he likes this. He likes looking at your naked body, fully exposed for him and vulnerable. So, you’ll give it to him.

“Fuck…maybe I did miss you,” he says quietly as he takes you all in.

He starts to take off his jacket and pull his tie off, all while still looking you over. You can see what you couldn’t before; a splatter of blood on his white shirt. It’s not a lot, but it’s noticeable, and you know that it doesn’t belong to him. A normal person would be turned off by this. Sickened at the thought. But not you.

He sees you noticing, and he glances down at his shirt, and then back up at you. This isn’t the first time he’s shown up like this, wearing the evidence. And so, he knows. He knows your twisted little fantasies.

With his mouth twitching with arrogance, he steps closer to you again. His hands trail down your sides, and they are warm and familiar. He looks down at you while you bring your hands up to the spot on his shirt. It’s dried and has probably been there for a couple of hours now, having already turned a dark maroon color. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you start to unbutton his shirt.

“Blew his fucking head right off,” he says darkly, in the most fucked-up pre-game dirty talk in the history of the universe.

You let out a small whine, still working at his shirt. Your hands push greedily inside of it, pressing your palms onto the hard curves of his pecs, then running them over his tight shoulders.

“With that same gun?” you ask without looking up.

“Yes.”

“Mmm…” you muse, resuming your undoing of buttons. “Did he beg for his life first?”

“Crying on his knees,” he tells you, and you’re not even sure if he’s telling the truth. He just knows what you want to hear.

His shirt is fully open now and you look up at him while your hands find his flat abdomen and his waistband again. You feel him grip harder into your sides and his breath is coming faster. You know what you’re feeling now isn’t the gun, and you press your palm over the front of his pants, watching his eyes close shut for a moment in response.

It didn’t take much for you to go from want to need to desperation, and you’re already dripping wet for him. You unbuckle his belt and open his pants much faster than you did his shirt. He’s fully hard and when your hand grazes over his cock he groans, digging his fingers even harder into your waist.

“How many shots?”

You’re already pulling him by his shirt collar with both hands, walking backwards and taking him with you as you ask. When you fall onto the couch, he answers while he positions himself over you.

“Two. Right to the fucking head.”

You free his cock from his pants in one quick movement, and then he’s pushing himself inside you as you cry out, clutching at his arms and throwing your head back.

You’ll never get tired of this euphoria. Of the sudden rush of endorphins when his dick slides in and he’s pumping into you. No one else does this to you. No one else makes you feel like you’re going insane. Like you’re shifting into another reality. He gives your outer thigh a swift smack and you raise your legs up higher, spreading them wide, just like he wants.

He’s holding himself up with his hands on the armrest behind your head, the muscles in his arms flexed and hard as he pounds into you. He’s not saying anything, not yet anyway, but the loud panting of his breath and rhythmic clinking of his belt buckle fills your ears. Your own moans grow louder by the second and you can see that smug look cross his face, because he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

But, fuck, if that look doesn’t make him even hotter. Bastard.

You spy that dark red stain on his shirt again, and you picture the scene he described to you. When you turn your head, you can see the black pistol lying on the table, just a few feet from you. The same one that was used to splatter a man’s head all over the walls and the floor, and onto its owner.

You’re gasping his name and frantically grabbing at his body when he gives one more punishing thrust, making you come hard and loudly underneath him. The waves spread over your body and they don’t seem to stop; one after another as you buck into him. He’s soon to follow, stiffening against you with a low groan, emptying himself and filling you up until his body starts to relax. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck for just a moment and you feel his lips graze your skin before he moves off of you.

As you both lie sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, trying to slow your breathing, he eventually looks over. He smiles in that way that is somehow already resetting and rewetting your aching groin. You return it with your own hazy smile; too high and fucked-out to pretend not to care.

He pushes his hair off his face with his hand, shoving his dick back in his pants, and leans toward you, kissing you with a gentle hand on your cheek. You hate when he’s soft like this. It fucks with your mind even more than he already does. But your lips respond without hesitation and you melt into his hand.

“I really did miss you,” he tells you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You want to cry and push him away. It’s not fair! He’s enabling you and playing into your weakness. And even if you’re the one that had broken down and called, it’s still not fair. He knows it’s a sickness.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper, because you can’t self-sabotage yourself enough.

After another kiss, he pulls back and takes his unfinished drink off the table, settling into the couch while you get up to throw your panties back on. You tip back your own glass and empty the contents in one swallow, taking in the absurdly sexy image in front of you. He’s leaning casually back into the cushions, his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped; white dress shirt fully open and untucked; messy dark hair falling across his forehead.

It would be so satisfying to kick him out right now. But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at him!

Instead, you give in like you always do and join him, resting your head on his chest with one hand on his bare stomach, your legs curled up next to you. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head while you sigh, letting your body relax into his.

He won’t be leaving yet, that’s not his game. He likes the companionship and your adoration. He’ll stay through most of the night, while you both talk and have a few more drinks. He’ll fuck you again in the shower, while you cling to his body and he pounds you into the cold, slippery tiles. He’ll fuck you in your bed, slowly and lazily, covering your body in soft kisses that will make you weak and forgetful.

He’ll make you come a few more times, leaving you gasping for air with his cum dripping out of you and your thighs burning. Your sheets will smell like him for days because you won’t be able to bring yourself to change them.

In the dark, he'll tell you more things you want to hear. I missed you. You’re so beautiful. I want you. I need you. He’s not cruel and he’s not a liar. He means the things he says. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stay. He never will, and you know it. The full reason for it, you’re not sure. Insecurities, trauma, secrets…so many secrets. No matter how many times you’ve poured your heart out, bathed him in reassurances, and cursed him until you were red in the face and crying. He will never stay.

You know what tomorrow and the next week or more will bring. The withdrawal symptoms will kick in and it will be hell. This won’t be cold sweats, shakes, and waves of nausea. It will be tears, self-hatred, and all-encompassing shame.

But he’s here now. And you drink in the scent of him. Sweat, sex, bourbon. All mixed together and highlighted with a slight twinge of copper. It’s better than any upper or downer or anything else that can be cooked up in a lab. It’s fucking maddening and you can’t get enough.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as you rub your cheek over his chest.

“Thanks for calling.”

“This is the last time, though, I mean it. I can’t keep doing this,” you lie.

“I know. This is the last time,” he lies in return.

He places another soft kiss to your temple, reaffirming what you already know. That he will be your ultimate down fall. Your rock bottom.

But damn, it’s going to feel so fucking good on the way down.

Link to my Master List

[cursedvida]

Can u do a buggy x sick reader? Fluff/comfort. The reader tries to get him to not take care of them because they don't wanna get him sick too.

I came down with a small fever and feel icky.

(if you do this, thank youuuuu)

PROMISE (Buggy x sick!Reader)

Warning: maybe swearing and the fact that english isn't my first language. Also the Reader is a f!Reader.

A/N: basically a fluffy scenario with a stubborn reader and a worried Buggy.

You haven't been feeling too well for a few days. At first it was just a simple sore throat, but now you feel your chest burning every time you cough a little. This morning you noticed that you also have a fever, not very high at first, but now you feel as if everything around you is spinning. You even have a headache because of the discomfort.

You haven't wanted to say anything to anyone, you've always been a pretty independent person and you don't want them to think that you can't stand even a simple cold. But as the hours go by, it's gotten to the point where you can hardly stand up. You feel your face getting very hot. It's not cold, but you're intemperate because of the fever. You have tried to hide your condition for as long as possible, but one of your companions seems to have gone off the deep end and now Buggy is standing in front of you, quite angry.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He's pacing back and forth nervously. He approaches you, taking off one of his gloves so he can touch your forehead.

You immediately pull away.

"Get off" you move away. "I don't want you to get it because of me. It's just a cold, don't worry."

"You're burning up, Y/N…"

You repeat to yourself that it's no big deal. Buggy is very dramatic, that's exactly why you didn't want him to know. Now he's sure to make a big deal out of it and end up sick. And it will all be your fault for not having known how to fake it properly.

You don't like to worry him, Buggy has too much on his mind to be wasting time on trifles. The idea of being a burden and not being able to fend for yourself disgusts you.

"I'll just go rest for a while and that's it" you tell him, smiling. "Don't be angry, come on…"

You sense that he is about to say something to you, but instead of opening his mouth, he just pulls his arms away from his body and sweeps you up.

"Buggy!" You exclaim, somewhere between surprised and embarrassed "What are you doing?"

"Didn't you want to go rest?"

"But I've already told you I'm going by myself. Really, if you do this you'll fall ill…"

Buggy moves closer to you, his arms back in place and now he has you pinned next to his body, carrying you as if you were a heavy sack. His face close to yours, his eyes on your face. You notice how his hands press against the parts of your body they have you by.

"Buggy, I'm serious, if we're that close…"

"What kind of guy would I be if I left you alone with that fever?"

His voice sounds dry, raspy. Buggy is usually outrageous when he gets angry, he likes people to notice him pissed off, to let everyone know he's not in a good mood and therefore the rest are going to pay for it. But right now his anger is different, much more intense, more real. Buggy doesn't yell or make a show of it, he just sounds like he's really hurt. As if you have really offended him.

"Buggy I… I didn't mean something like that. I just…"

"You think I care more about not catching a cold than supporting you?"

"Of course not!" You exclaim as you notice the pain in his words "I never thought anything like that, I just wanted to take care of you."

The clown clicks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Look how silly you are sometimes, baby doll" He cocks a half smile just before giving you a kiss on the forehead "This time I'm the one who has to take care of you. And that's what I'm going to do."

And that last sentence doesn't sound like a warning, but a promise.

[iintervallum]

Sometimes I think about how the dndads cast should be on tumblr, with them having a subreddit(you know how they can be) and dndadstwt being like 10 people, tumblr would be the perfect place for them to see more of the fandom, if they wish to that is. Since quite a lot of people on here are way less honed in on negativity than reddit and twitter.

My edit of this is getting long lol so I'm putting it under a cut

Especially reddit, the people on there honestly I think just get too attached to a specific format or way of doing things, its a common pattern in any long running show fandoms i've been in where its reddit that constantly complains about the "good ol' days" and hate any new changes made. I would sometimes drop in and just see a lot of Scary hate at times, or people getting very irritated with the rule breaking, or just complaining that they're "forcing" the humor. I saw a post like that when i just started s2 and that couldnt have been more incorrect (yeah the piss jokes got a bit much but every other part was golden!...pun not intended)

There were absolutely points where I felt my interest wanning, but I think people would get pretty vicious about it and make a lot of mean spirited accusations. Like if anything the things I really enjoyed about this season was how different it was to s1, the contrast was really nice and i liked a lot of the story choices made, i still think about the apollo four teens and the fucking goof realm episodes, they were amazing. Which is why I remember thinking it was odd that they suddenly started involving the dads from s1 more, but knowing now that Anthony was struggling with people not liking this season as much it makes perfect sense.

Idk if it were just me, but i liked the earlier parts of the season for how the teens were still kind of discovering more about themselves and through gathering each anchor, learning more that their parents are people too, with their own fuck ups revealed and the teens have to clean up after them, so having it shift to be about Willy again was a little odd if i'm being honest(I didnt hate it but a repeat villian is hard to do, and for what its worth i think Willy did get the end he deserved and i loved the finale).

Funnily, in its own way it fits the theme of being a teenager and having to live up to your parents expectations. In a meta sense this being the successor to the first season and it being awkward at points and having issues with its identity is very fitting and just like how teenhood actually is.

I've gotten off topic but my point is fandom is just fandom, and letting it influence the way creators can view their own work is an interesting side effect of the internet and the way we navigate with the media we enjoy or hate. And spaces like reddit are grown in a way to encourage more brutally critical ways of analysing media which has very little consideration for the creator. By no means am I saying that the creators of things should be coddled, heck I literally airing my own annoyances with the podcast in space where i'm uplifting the positivity of tumblr over those spaces lol. I just mean that seeing the more genuine side of the fanbase would be more of a better time for them.

EDIT: (I just phrased things better, fixed the spelling and grammer errors and added more thoughts) The more I ruminate on this the more I think that it would honestly be a good idea. Like I do get the base worry of being too close to the more intense side of the fandom, as people on here are unafraid to gush about the show in ways that can be a little much and theres parasociality and all that jazz.

But it would be really good at least to see some actual genuine positivity, so many people provide their thoughtful meta and theories that even if widely off base are just interesting to read through because of how various different people see themselves in the characters they play. And even the critiques people give are not unkind, they come from a place of wanting to understand the choices made better.

I mentioned this in the old version of this post but having a blacklisted tag that only the people who don't wish their post to be seen by the cast use, something along the lines like how the magnus archives fandom has "do not archive", would be a very useful tool to create a barrier in the fanbase. I know i'm someone who feels very nervous about creators seeing the posts I make. Something like "not safe for dads" could work well or any other joke or pun about it being hidden. I doubt it would be filled with discourse or whatever it would mainly be people hornyposting since i know fandom well enough lol.

[chososchalupa]

HII is it alr to ask for jealous ranpo x reader😭😭

Basically the reader has this friend and calls them "sweetheart" and stuff (like how alastor treats charlie idk if you watched that) and steals her attention, love you🔥

ofc! sorry this took so long to get to, i've had the worst writers block,, ilysm! Hope you enjoy <3

Pleasure to meet you

contents,, F!Reader x Ranpo, slightly toxic!Ranpo, splash of Hazbin Hotel references (watch it, its so good), fluffy ending <3 not proofread ofc

WC- 821

You sat in a booth at your favorite cafe listening to your boyfriend and coworkers laugh and talk loudly, nothing was out of the ordinary until you heard your name being called from a familiar voice. You spun your head around to see an old friend from your previous job giving you a bright smile. You quickly got up from your spot and ran over to wrap your arms around him.

“How have you been, dear?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I’ve been great! This new job is really fun. I’ve made tons of friends and even-”

“A boyfriend, I see” He laughed, staring over your shoulder.

You looked over to see Ranpo glaring intensely at the two of you. You gave him a small smile before turning back around. 

“He can get a little jealous sometimes. Come on, I’ll introduce you” You smiled, dragging him with you back to your table. “This is Dazai, Yosano and last but certainly not least, this is my boyfriend, Ranpo” 

Your friend gave a smile to everyone before going to shake Ranpos hand, “Pleasure to meet you”

Ranpo gave a fake smile, “Quite”

Your friend gave a small chuckle before looking back to you, “I must get going now but we should get together if you’re free this evening?”

You agreed and gave another small hug before waving goodbye and sitting back in your seat besides Ranpo.

“Well he seems pleasant” Dazai smiled

“Oh yeah. He seems great” Ranpo muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes at his pettiness before excusing yourself, “I have to get back to the office. Kunikida has been blowing up my phone about an unfinished report.” 

・❥・

You assumed Ranpo would be back to normal by the time he made his way back to the office, but you were incredibly mistaken. Despite his fake smiles, he would barely speak a word to you.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, stepping into the elevator beside him at the end of the day.

“No” He responded, keeping his responses as short as possible. 

The walk home was silent, the only sounds being your soft footsteps and Ranpo sighing, clearly trying to show he was upset without actually saying it.

Once you both were inside your home, you spun around to look up at him with your arms crossed.

“Yes?” He asked, his emerald eyes staring down at you.

“Why do you keep pouting? Ever since I saw my old friend you’ve been acting jealous!”

“Did you ever think maybe I am jealous?” He asked, blinking slowly.

Your eyes widened, “Of what?!”

“I don’t like him” He responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Why?”

“He’s tall, he’s handsome. You clearly enjoy being around him. I just don’t want him to take you from me and he’s trying to!” Ranpo explained, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout as he finished speaking. 

“He’s certainly not trying to take me from you, my love. I promise”

“Yeah? And how do I know that?”

“Because Ranpo, He-” You started but were instantly cut off by your cell phone ringing. 

Ranpo looked down at the caller ID before scoffing, “Of course” he sighed, seeing your friend from earlier calling.

You glared at him before answering the phone on speaker,

“Hello, darling!” He started, causing Ranpo to glare towards your phone. “I unfortunately have to cancel our plans tonight, something has come up with work” You glanced up to your boyfriend, seeing a small smile form on his lips, “But I would love to invite you and Ranpo over for tea this week. My partner and I would love to have you”

You watched as the color drained from Ranpo’s face, causing you to let out a small giggle, “We would love to! I miss both of you”

“Wonderful! I will message you when we have a set time. It was lovely seeing you today” 

You quickly finished up your conversation, hanging up the phone and glancing back towards Ranpo.

“As I was saying, he already has a partner. And even if he didn’t, I will only ever love you. You make me happier than any person on this earth” You smiled, hugging your boyfriend tightly as he sighed. 

“I’m sorry I was wrong. I didn’t mean to get so jealous” He spoke, pulling you tighter to his chest.

“You were what? Could you say that again?” 

“No.” He replied with a small laugh. “Can we go cuddle?”

“Of course,” You smiled, pulling away from the hug. “I’ll get snacks, Go put on a movie”

Ranpos eyes lit up, “I love you so much” He spoke, kissing your forehead before turning towards the living room to put on a movie. 

You smiled as you watched him walk away, you felt so lucky to have him, even if he was an idiot sometimes.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Heyyy brainrot hope you are resting well from those back to back 12 hours and i have thought about a new scene what about MC bursting into a song out of nowhere and surprising M6 you know like how we randomly think about a song and just starts singing about it.

Bonus points if M6 is the one thinking about the song and MC starts to sing it aloud if you know what i mean

Enjoy your next 24 hours. And have a great week

The Arcana HCs: M6 reacting to MC singing

~ @godslayer143 I know exactly the moment you're talking about - I do this to my family members all the time XD The honorable lobster friend also requested a singing MC, so here this is! - brainrot ~

- opening quotes are canon, from Heart Hunter responses to MC's serenade option -

Julian

"Next time, let's make it a duet! What do you say?"

As previously shown, he's immediately asking to sing along with you. Don't worry, he's very good at duets!

If he knows the song, he can jump right in. If he doesn't, you can teach it to him

Sometimes when Malak hears duets he decides he wants to add some harmony too, which frustrates Julian's attempts at a romantic moment to no end

Doubles his efforts to sing with you in public. You're a few drinks in at the Rowdy Raven? He's starting a drinking song and trying to drag you up on the table to lead everyone in the chorus with him

Sometimes, he just wants to hear your voice without his own ringing in his ears. If you're in the mood for it, he'll tune his vielle to accompany you instead

Having traveled around the world, he's picked up quite a few different songs and he will try to teach them to you. It's okay if you can't get the Nevivon pronunciation right away, he'll coach you

If you start randomly singing the song that's been stuck in his head all day he'll forget his manners and jump right into singing along

Asra

"I've always loved the sound of your voice, MC."

It doesn't matter what they're doing, the sound of you singing is enough to make them drop whatever they're up to and tune out the rest of the world

If you're singing something really energetic or upbeat, he'll be a little faster to shake himself out of it. He'll keep bopping his head along though

If you're singing something slower or more romantic, they'll pull you into a slow dance and encourage you to keep singing

There's one thing he loves to do though, and it's tease. Don't sing anything too heated or he'll take it as his cue to fluster you

Cue increasingly suggestive eye contact as the lyrics get more intense until you cave and use your mouth for kissing instead

They'll never ask or pressure you to sing, but they won't hesitate to mention that you have a beautiful voice if it comes up

If you start singing a song he was thinking of he'll just be quietly surprised (doesn't want to interrupt)

Faust, on the other hand, has also had that song running through her head, and she will let you know: Friend singing? Surprise!

Nadia

"What a bold declaration of affection, MC. I'm impressed."

Let it be known that she only ever sings alone, in the bath, where no one can hear it

However, if you trust her with your voice, she might (might!) trust you with hearing hers one day

She prefers to accompany you on her organ

If you have the slightest interest in training your voice, she will find the best vocal coach for your style and preference possible

In the same vein, she will never pressure you to sing, but she will often request it or maybe suggest that you perform at a palace function. Only if you're up for it, of course, but she has faith in you!

If you get one of her sisters to secretly teach you a childhood favorite of hers from Prakra and surprise her with it she will lose her words

Nobody knows how it happens but Chandra appears within minutes whenever you sing. It doesn't matter how far away she was when you started

If you sing a song she's been thinking of she'll ask you if you have clairvoyance. Don't tell her that she was humming it under her breath all morning

Muriel

"..................."

As suggested, his usual response to hearing you sing is silence

He doesn't want to disturb or interrupt you, he just gives you his attention

Speaking of attention, don't look at him while you're singing. It's too much for him to handle and he'll start trying to sweat out his blush

As overwhelming as it can be for him though, he could listen to you all day. Your voice fits into the trees and the birdsong so perfectly it brings him peace

He may or may not scout out the spots with the best natural acoustics and regularly take you there

He has a deep, rumbly voice that he refuses to sing with, but there is one exception to this rule. Ask him to be your drone

If you can find a peaceful song that harmonizes perfectly with a sustained note, pitch it low enough to be comfortable for him, and ask him to sing it where nobody else can see or hear him, he'll do it

And he will sound incredible

Inanna, on the other hand, will become as playful and affectionate as a pup if you sing something upbeat enough

Portia

"I didn't know you could sing like that, MC! What else are you hiding from me?"

Starts asking you about all the songs you know. Can you do magic with singing? Have you learned any in an ancient or forbidden language? Oh ... right, of course, you don't remember

Determined to help you start building your own repertoire. She'll bring you plenty of songbooks from the Palace library

She's also spent plenty of time on several ships, and is quite fond of ballads herself. She'll teach you everything she knows so you two can sing together!

She'll also learn new singing styles with you on ambassador trips, if she can make the time (which she will)

You are going to learn so many sea shanties

Portia might even try to compose a few ballads with you, about your shared story

Singing softly to her will help her relax so quickly after a stressful day. Just start humming and she'll breathe easier

Pepi is quite vocal herself. Sometimes she'll perch close by and give you a series of long, drawn-out meows for you to harmonize with

If you sing something Portia's already thinking of she'll bluescreen

Lucio

"That was good, but check this out! AHEM-"

Now then, we all know that beauty is in the eye (or ear) of the beholder. Lucio's voice may sound gorgeous to you

But to everyone else, he is canonically tone-deaf with an "overdone theatre voice". If you're in any building not belonging to you or a close friend he will mostly likely get kicked out if you let him sing

He likes your voice very much though, and will ask you to sing for him all the time. Especially on travel-heavy days

He learns the hard way not to ask you to sing while hiking, after the times you got dizzy and out of breath at high altitudes

Mercedes and Melchior will get uncharacteristically calm when you sing. Their tails will wag slowly and they'll trot along in a happy, peaceful state

Lucio's singing has the opposite effect. They will howl along as loudly as their doggy lungs let them, sprinting frantically around and crashing into everything in their paths

Lucio has wondered if the calming effect of your singing would work on magical beasts. He was surprised when it didn't

Sing the song he was thinking of and he's belting it out with you, no holds barred

[khaire-traveler]

This is not an invitation for discourse. I am just stating my personal opinions.

I've been seeing some posts going around lately about myth retellings and wanted to give my opinion on something: I think the helpol community (maybe other polytheistic and pagan communities, too) is honestly too critical and intense about modern retellings (and even some historical ones as well somehow).

I know what it's like coming from that critical point of view. I used to be highly critical of certain retellings and stories that used Greek mythology. They used to deeply bother me, actually, but overtime, I realized that staying mad and fuming about these things I can't change - that will always be created - is really exhausting and even causes me to miss out on some truly interesting stories.

Also, seeing how intense some people can be about retellings has actively discouraged people in the community from writing them. How do I know this? I am one of those people, and I happen to know several others in the same predicament. Some people in the community will rip and tear and claw at retellings as if the retelling murdered everyone they loved. People talk about these retellings as if they're literally destroying the earth itself sometimes - like, seriously, y'all, it's wild.

Once, I saw someone post a short story they wrote - a retelling of a myth that I won't name, as I don't want to give the identity of this person away. This person posted this story with good intentions and was a worshipper of the figures depicted within the story, but still, they got absolutely dragged by larger Tumblr blogs and were torn into and literally chased off of Tumblr. This kind of behavior is not ok for multiple reasons, but the main point I'm trying to make is that we are actively making it harder for people within the community to write retellings. You want retellings from people who actually worship the gods? Then maybe make the community a much less judgmental place because sharing creative works takes a lot of courage as it is. Imagine building up the courage to create and share a retelling just to be ripped into by the very community you are a part of. I'm not saying you can't mention to someone when they've gotten something wrong or have written something potentially problematic, but I am saying that you shouldn't ruthlessly dissect someone's work and rip them a part if they seem to be well-meaning but misinformed (assume the best; not everyone is out to get us; easier said than done, I know). You can give criticism while still being respectful to the original author.

For many of these other authors, however, they likely don't even know that worship of these gods exists in the modern day, and even if they do know, acknowledging it may not be relevant to their story, or even their point. Sure, in a perfect world, these authors would acknowledge our little community and pay homage to actual ancient traditions/culture/etc, but we don't live in a perfect world, and that's ok. It is ok, y'all. Not every author writing a retelling is going to be a literal classics major or historian. Not every author writing a retelling is going to be educated on the actual ancient -or modern - worship of these gods. Not every author writing a retelling is going to pay homage to original source material. Do those things suck sometimes? Yes, absolutely. Do we need to lose our heads over it? No, not really. We can choose to focus on other things - on material and media that we actually enjoy and that do depict things how we'd like them to be depicted.

Now, none of this is to say that there are no problematic retellings or that speaking out on problematic retellings is wrong because hoo, boy, there are quite a lot of those. Some retellings claim to be historically accurate and are, in fact, not; some retellings are written by authors with less than ideal values and ideologies; some retellings are even based entirely on misinformation which can be frustrating to hear about. All of these things are true, but it's also true that not every retelling is out to get us. Not every retelling is trying to attack our small community and the gods we worship. As alarming and offensive as it can feel sometimes, it's important that we take a minute and realize that honestly, authors write stories, and sometimes a story is truly just meant to be a story. It's nothing personal. It feels like we, or our gods, are being attacked, but at the end of the day, we still have our own practices, and we are still allowed to engage with those practices. We are still allowed to worship our gods respectfully, even if others do not. And it is important to acknowledge here that others do not worship our gods. These authors are most likely not worshippers of the Theoi. They most likely do not have relationships with these gods as we do, and unfortunately, they may not have respect for these gods either. It would be ideal if they did, but they just might not, and there's no controlling that.

Honestly, most authors are trying their best. They're trying their best to write an interesting, authentic story that will capture the attention of their intended audience. They want to tell a story based on a mythology that inspired them so deeply, so carnally, that they felt the need to write a whole ass book or create a whole ass game about it. They see stories of tragic heroes, powerful gods, and all those caught in-between, and they think, "This is fucking epic; I'm gonna do something with this." Greek mythology is fucking cool. There's absolutely no denying that, and the fact that so many creators of all kinds continue to create retellings based on the love and passion of a mythology from over 2,000 years ago is pretty damn awesome, actually.

[cosmerelists]

Randomly Paired Cosmere Characters On A Date

I have a list of 112 Cosmere characters I feel vaguely comfortable writing for and a random number generator. Let's see what happens!

(Upon my honor, I did not finagle with these results beyond rerolling any repeat characters and not allowing Tien to go on a date with Gaz because gross.)

[Spoilers for the end of Mistborn Era 1!]

1. Eshonai & Teft

Eshonai: I am excited. This is the first date I've been on with a human! Teft: Sorry you got stuck with someone like me, then. I'm...not the best example that humanity has to offer. Eshonai: Really? You have an Honorspren, though. That speaks highly of you! Teft: I- How did you know I had an Honorspren?? Eshonai: She's behind you, giving me a thumbs up. Teft: Phendorana! I said I didn't need a wingman! Eshonai: You clearly do, though.

2. Marasi & Blushweaver

Blushweaver: Oh my...you're cute. I love the buttoned-up look! Blushweaver: I can't wait to get them all undone. Blushweaver: Oh that's quite a blush! Do you like me? Marasi: W-WE HAVEN'T EVEN ORDERED FOOD YET

3. Galladon & Bleeder

Galladon: You got crazy eyes, friend. Bleeder: Yeah, I kill people a lot. And I already have a man. Galladon: Shall we eat in slightly hostile silence then? Bleeder: Works for me. Galladon: Not the worst date I've been on.

4. Lopen & Shallan

Lopen: You know, I used to have only one arm. I kinda miss it! Lopen: You know why? Shallan: Because back then, you were always all right? Lopen: ... Lopen: I LIKE you, gancho! Shallan: Thanks! I'm pretty quick on the uptake...not that there's anything wrong with being stumped of course. Lopen: I may be in love.

5. Szeth & Lightsong

Lightsong: Well you have an...intense air about you. Lightsong: What do you do for fun? Szeth: There is no fun for one such as me. Szeth: ... Szeth: I guess I talk to my sword, sometimes. Lightsong: Oh, I'm gonna need to be drunk-drunk for this one.

6. Ann & Sazed

Ann: And after I got these spectacles, I got way better at firing guns AND cannons! Ann: My crewmates no longer fear ol' Ironeyes when I line up a shot, ha ha! Sazed: ... Sazed: ... Sazed: W-What was that? Ann: Hmm? What was what? Sazed: C-Can I ask you a billion questions about your planets mythology and religions, please?

7. Demoux & TenSoon

Demoux: So...this is just a little weird, right? Demoux: I mean, we were both there, back in the day, with Kelsier and Vin and all of them. Demoux: And we both seemed to die but didn't and we're still out there, bein' in books and stuff. We have so much in common! Demoux: But it's still weird. Demoux: ...It might be because you're in your wolf body. TenSoon: Humans love dogs. Demoux: I don't think this is going to work out.

8. Cord & Parlin

Parlin: That bow...it's amazing. Cord: Thanks! It's a Shardbow. Very flashy. Cord: Yours is nice too, though. Simple, but i can tell how well made it is. And well cared for! Parlin: Thank you. I think you can tell a lot about a person by how they care for their weapons. Cord: So true! Man, can you believe we BOTH brought our bows on a first date? Parlin: Do...most people leave their weapons at home or something? Cord: Actually, yes. Parlin: Strange. Cord: I know, right?

9. Gaz & Dockson

Gaz: ...So yeah, that's how I ended up with that lady, Shallan. Now I work for her--well, when she actually has something for me to do. Dockson: I can see why my stories about Kelsier made you think of her. They both seem like charismatic, damaged people. Dockson: Heh, do you think your Shallan and my Kelsier would get along? Gaz: ...Somehow, I feel like they'd try to kill each other. Dockson: You could be right.

10. Radiant & Adolin

Radiant: Tell me all the tales of your bravery in war! Radiant: I will not ask you about pooping, even a little! Adolin: Aww, but I kinda liked it when Shallan asked me about pooping. Radiant: Yes, and after this date proves to be much more stilted, I'm sure Shallan will feel all the more secure that she is meant to be with you, poop questions and all. Adolin: So this is a date about helping ease Shallan's lingering insecurities about how our first date went? Radiant: Well, yes. Adolin: Yeah, that tracks.

[snackugaki-jestsjapesjokes]

blep blah, here have some old ass backrooms doodle content when the topic of "the beach episode" concept came up bluhp blooh brain nyooming but art hand isn't arting

i think what is super cute in modern fandom expression that I've seen is that in terms of making OCs or AUs is that sound seems to have a bigger role now than from what I remember when I was young. which I'm thinking has a lot to do with being able to clip audio easily or being able to make multi-track playlists whenever. y'all out here with reels of your art with voice claims and some of the most thoughtfully and artfully crafted soundtracks-- not even playlists, some of that shit is a straight up soundtrack level be real

89% tempted to try one of those shady "free" video/audio editing programs to make a LoFi chill beats study girl visualizer playlist with my iteration's boys ...

anyway gonna contemplate music headcanons for my iteration under the cut

From Turtle Tracks fan letter section, Archie run, #24

so real quick, my iteration is literally just them chilling, hanging out, being together in their mid 30s- early 40s, and then sometimes flashing back to their child/teen years in the 90s because tl;dr i have miiiiiinor beef my childhood turtles weren't quite as "90s" as they "could have been" (nvm I'm cackling at the milennial pop culture refs in Mutant Mayhem drop kicking me back into my adolescence)

but mehehehehe, keeping that they listened to Public Enemy and The Jungle Brothers

and aside from Top 40 musicians of the time... I feel like being outsiders themselves, having to sneak around to explore and learn about people and what's above the sewers had them eavesdropping into a lot of nighttime venues and getting into the underground and various niche subculture scenes that daytime Top 40 didn't play.

cannot tell me the lights, thumping and noise from bands playing hardcore or house or hosting cyphers or raves didn't attract these curious and funky little green dudes like moths to a flame

... Leo definitely fell in deep with the gregorian chant phase, soothing sounds of nature fads , a big fan of Orbital and he fell into that electronic, house, trance, eurodance rabbit hole right after. he also got into Celtic folk music but when his brothers caught his ass studying Michael Flatley to incorporate Riverdance footwork into his ninjutsu he got teased so mercilessly that he took great care to hide listening to it... which just made his stealth better so joke's on them heehoo

Not to mention they're from New York City, the underground music scene is always bangin' no matter the decade; feel like rap and punk got a lot of tracks on their mix tapes back in the day

Raph getting into the metal scene in his own exploring the city trips, and then progressed to music with that boom bap sound (cuz baby boy needs a way to come down off those high intensity moods idk ijs)

Donnie... just the amalgamation of his brothers, he needs that background noise while he's chewing on schematics and protoype development, he would definitely have been the mixtape maker/recording bootlegger (along with Mikey)

Mikey absolutely tagged along with his brothers sometimes whenever they went to their spots for music, though he himself backflipped into ska 'cuz Mikey is always for the people

my tmnt  iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt  iteration part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

tmnt  iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

Keep reading

[tunamayojazz]

all of your inuokko art is so lovely it’s hard to pick just one!! i loved the ex-idol concept that was so perfect for inumaki, and the baseball and college aus are adorable too! we love mutual pining in this house 🥰

i just looked a the date in which this was sent and shrieked out loud 😭 i am so sorry and also happy new year!

thank you so much for your kind words ❤️ i'm so happy to hear you liked the ex-idol toge and baseball player yuta au hehe that was so much fun to do. now that you mention college aus (which i also LIVEEE for), would it not be cute if they used to crush on each other when they were college students!! music major toge was part of the dance club and spent a lot of time on campus for practice, same for yuta who had been a prodigy baseball player his whole life. from his club's practice spot, toge had a convenient view of watching yuta practice (as did many other students haha, man always had an audience). from observation and also through word of mouth, he knew that yuta was a very sweet person, friend and teammate. he took care of his team well and everyone looked up to him. toge was inspired by his drive and it motivated him to try his best too.

for yuta it was a much more private experience. while toge would sometimes just join the crowd watching yuta or sit somewhere alone on a day with less people, yuta was intensely shy. he came across his school's dance club profile on social media one fine day and that's when he first saw toge. 30 minutes of doom scrolling later on their page and it was over for him...let's just say toge was a really good dancer with lots of charm and personality in his style (and also has a little fanclub of his own!).

despite them mutually pining for one another from afar, they unfortunately only ever interacted once. they happened to both be on their way out of school, and it was the day before yuta and his team went off to the all japan university baseball championship. toge's got a good luck charm for him but is way too nervous to actually approach him. luckily for toge, yuta accidentally drops his student ID. and the little opportunist within toge comes alive and dives to grab it before yuta can even do it himself (he still cringes about this moment years later). yuta's brain is also doing an internal system crash but somehow doesn't combust when toge very calmly hands him his ID back with the charm underneath. he then walks off in what seems to be the fastest speed yuta has ever witnessed. after the moment is over, yuta uncovers the good luck charm tucked under his ID and then, he combusts.

it doesn't get better yet, they don't meet again for a long time. yuta and his team go on to win the championship, but when he returns to campus with all the glory and confidence in the world (to finally speak to toge), he can't find him anywhere. tldr: toge got scouted by a really good music label and got whisked away to trainee life at 19 in the period of time yuta was away for championships; it all happened very quickly bc toge was quite naive and dropped out of school for a shot at his dream career) (why do i feel like im writing a such a cliche romance plot !! haha)

we'll get to the bad parts immediately. toge knew trainee life would be hard, but he was willing to give it his all to debut. except things didn't really improve after debut. before he could even notice all the red flags, it all came crashing down at 23 when toge had been overworked to the point of damaging his vocal cords. he left the group shortly after, and eventually left the label all together. as for yuta, he was scouted to play for a foreign team and left japan. his career was a success overseas and he'd attained the status as japan's pride. all the things he'd dreamt of as a kid playing baseball with his dad had come true. but in true yuta nature, he was like, yknow what, i think i've done it all and i really miss my friends and family. so i'm gonna move my life back to japan! bye bye! (not gonna give him the successful athlete sustains career damaging injury plot no yuta closed the curtains with his own hands simply bc he missed his friends) i think at this point (age 25) he's only thought of toge from time to time as this sweet boy from his college days that was out of his league, he hasn't heard or seen him in forever either. that is until he returns to japan, gets like a million brand deals, collaboration offers and of course, invites to events and parties for the elites and celebs of japan.

a few weeks after he returned to tokyo, he's invited to a private party to celebrate team japan's success at the winter olympics, with his best friend rika as his plus one. he meets a lot of big name athletes there and quickly becomes friends with maki zenin, one of japan's best speed skaters, and yuji itadori, one of players of the national ice hockey team. (geez i wonder who maki's plus one is)

when he feels himself go past tipsy and approaching drunk, he excuses himself to the balcony for a breather. he's known to be extremely talkative after too much alcohol and he doesn't really feel like pissing off his new friends. when he steps out, he sees a single person smoking by themselves outside and cringes internally (he hates the smell!). but he finds that he won't be stepping back inside so soon, because somehow, he's met with the very beautiful face of inumaki toge.

yuta covers his mouth with his hands at the same time toge drops his cigarette.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 22 - Stoicism Breaks

I've been threatening to send Mariano to therapy so here we ARE! I reference a little RP I had with @comfy-whumpee that's been swirling in my brain ever since we did it c:<

TWs: self harm mention, suicide mention, anxiety mention, talk of a shooting, talk of captivity, this is real cathartic though I promise it's not bad

Ex-military, spent most of his twenties in foreign federal prison, history of anxiety, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. Stoic, highly traumatized, closed off, slow to open up. Hesitant to talk about intense experiences, needs reassurance. Overly concerned with others' needs.

Mary Barlowe looked over her notes before walking into the latest session with Mariano Cross. He wasn't her most difficult patient to talk to, not by a long shot. She never had to worry about calling security, or convincing him to leave when time was up. He was polite, punctual, and friendly.

But he was challenging in his own way.

He'd had a full decade of people telling him that he was an irredeemable monster, and he'd taken it all very seriously. Discussing anything heavier than everyday troubles was approached with the same caution that stray dogs approached an outstretched hand. He barely seemed to have even a basic connection to his own body or emotions, sounding detached whenever he spoke about them. They were things he needed help with, of course, but it was clear that there were things buried deeper than that.

The small, quick smile he gave her when she entered was a fantastic sign. "Good afternoon, Doctor Barlowe." He was already seated, back straight, both feet flat on the floor, and careful hands folded and resting on his leg.

"Good afternoon, Mariano." She returned the greeting easily, taking her own seat in the comfortable chair opposite his. "You mentioned wanting to talk about something difficult today, did something happen?" She knew the answer to that. He'd missed a few sessions due to being hospitalized from a robbery gone wrong.

He hesitated, dark eyes darting to the table between them. "Yes. I...there was something that happened." He seemed to close in on himself, just so, hands still clasped firmly together. She could feel the tension that crept into his voice. "But I understand if we can't."

There it was, the familiar beginning of withdrawal. "Why wouldn't we be able to talk about it?" She leaned forward, a small smile on her face. She kept her features soft, her posture relaxed. "You're paying to have a space to talk about the difficult things."

"I am, yes." He trailed off, not quite meeting her eye yet. "But it was...graphic. I don't want to overstep. I've accidentally done that before, and I...I don't want to find a new therapist. I like you."

"Oh?" Mary's voice softened. "Mariano, let me reassure you: You are not the first former prisoner I've worked with, or the first soldier. If I need a moment after hearing something then I'll let you know, but you're not going to destroy me by just talking.

"You deserve to feel safe enough to say what's on your mind. I'm sure it gets heavy holding it in, doesn't it?" She saw something in his jaw tense, the hold he had on his own hand growing tighter.

Mariano swallowed, nodding, eyes on the tissue box between them. "...It does. I have dreams about it sometimes."

"I'd imagine so." She said. "What happens in those dreams?"

When Mariano spoke again, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I can't call for help after I'm shot, and I wind up dying." He took a deeper breath, the sound just barely trembling. "It always feels...very realistic."

"Were you alone when it happened?" Mariano didn't move. His eyes never left the tissue box. "Mariano?" She had a feeling that he wasn't thinking about whether or not he needed a tissue.

He looked up at her, tension tight around his eyes, jaw set, and shoulders curled in on himself. "I...I don't want to hurt you."

"Have you hurt someone by talking about this before?" She spoke to him like he was backed into a corner, cowering away. He was, in a sense. It was like he was waiting for her to snap at him.

Mariano nodded.

"Can you tell me about it?"

Mariano hesitated, his grip shifting to his own elbows. He looked even smaller in the soft, pale green chair. "One of my friends asked me what happened, and why people weren't applying to the ad we put out for more managers. I said that I got shot during a robbery and almost died, and that it had gotten publicized--I don't think I went into detail, but he said that I...ambushed him?"

Mariano's breath caught. "I don't want to overstep again." He repeated. "He's a therapist and...I tried to keep things civilian friendly. It was why people hadn't been applying, and I tried to keep it brief, I...I don't really know what I did wrong. I didn't want to ask him to explain if I'd already hurt him."

A frown ghosted across Mary's face. "I see. Well, you don't have to worry about that, here. I have my own therapist, and I come to work expecting to hear about hard things."

She pushed the tissues closer, leaning forward to catch Mariano's eye. "And I think that I would've answered similarly, in your shoes. Maybe your friend was just having a hard time himself, and didn't communicate that well.

"But most people wouldn't consider that an ambush, just like you wouldn't consider it one if you asked a friend how they'd been and they said that they'd broken their leg recently, or lost a pet." She smiled softly when Mariano continued looking at her. "I think you'd just consider that surprising and unfortunate."

Mariano's jaw trembled. His eyes shone in the mid-afternoon light that streamed in through the window. "...I would."

"This hour is yours, Mariano. I'm not going to get upset at you." She plucked a few tissues and offered them over. "I've seen you for a while now. You don't have to be vigilant like that with me."

Mariano took them, holding them tight.

"Let me help you set some of that heavy stuff down." Mary offered. "You don't have to hold it all in on your own. You won't hurt me with it. It's safe."

Mariano's shoulders shuddered as he crumbled face-first into the tissues. A sob crawled out of him, escaping into his palms. It sounded agonized, like he'd been holding it in for months.

It was the most emotion he'd shown the entire time she'd known him. "It's okay to let people help you. You don't have to be a one man army anymore."

When Mariano had collected himself again, minutes later, Mary listened as he told her about the night that he almost died.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

[drones-of-innocence]

I've always wanted to entertain a universe where Princess Peach was not familiar at all with romance.

She would go through her life being raised on political philosophy and the understanding that she would one day be responsible for the people of the Mushroom Kingdom, her teachings are very strict and single-minded in the effort to make her an effective ruler. This turns her into an incredibly driven and kind woman who is primarily concerned with her citizen's security and happiness. The fairytale land of the Mushroom Kingdom emphasized a culture of love, certainly, but it was a love for all living creatures. Romance exists, but it was not part of the mainstream of ideas.

Her interests did not include fantasy or fiction. Even when offered by her guardians and retainers, she would decline and opt instead for denser, brainier, more intensive material. The concept of romance simply never came across her horizon.

Until she gets kidnapped, and a stranger arrives to save her.

This man is strong, stronger than the King of the Darklands. Strong enough to rescue her. He is humble and sweet, and he has the most earnest blue eyes she's ever seen. He is charming without meaning to be, content with the simple things in life, and her heart appears to do a little something every time he smiles bashfully at her attempts to thank him for his heroic deeds. He has dimples in his cheeks. Mario, he is called. Thinking of his name causes a most peculiar rush in her chest. She sometimes likes to murmur it to herself when no one is around, but she couldn't say why.

"It is love," those close to her tried to explain. But she didn't understand.

She discovers her grand library's fiction section. She pores over romantic tales, particularly those regarding a princess and her knight in shining armor. Meanwhile, she observes that her face becomes quite warm when Mario is around, and that she tends to ramble or stammer nervously when she is ordinarily so clear and concise. She has not had any practice disguising such feelings. They come off as quite obvious to any onlooker.

Mario is not presumptuous, however, and though he finds himself nursing his own romantic feelings for Princess Peach, he would never dare assume someone of his station would be worthy of her. Still, many point out her obvious flustered demeanor and clear affection for him. He had already dedicated himself to many acts of service for her, but he begins to bring her small gifts as well. Interesting findings, secret tokens, tiny treasures from his journeys. Small wonders of the amazing world he'd come to love living in, and tiny, heartfelt creations.

Pressure grows from those around them who can see they clearly have feelings for each other. When the time comes, Peach sits, meekly admiring a flower he had offered her as they sit on a grassy hill under the starlight. She explains that she believes she likes him, but admits that she does not understand very much about the nature of her feelings or of romance in general. She's a little frightened; her daydreams and wistful yearning have distracted her from her duties at times, and she becomes overwhelmed in his presence. She wishes to understand it all better, but she doesn't know where to begin.

Mario, surprised and flattered by the news, puts his hand over hers and tells her that he is willing to help her explore her feelings and make better sense of them. He can teach her; he's been a hopeless romantic for as long as he could remember.

And he loves her. He's more than willing to take this journey with her.

Flirting, dates, kissing. All of these are foreign concepts to Peach and she frets that she's very far behind and that she'll do it all wrong. But Mario soothes her and tells her it all comes with time. He won't push her into anything she isn't ready for, though he does purposefully tease and gently flirt with her just to see her blush and smile. Over time, she is able to reciprocate.

He invites her out to classic dates and more unique ones. Garden strolls, picnics, or trips to find the best view of the sunset. He continues to bring her gifts, and rescues her from Bowser all without any expectations that she return the sentiment.

She learns. She finds or creates gifts, and arranges dates to surprise him. Her heart feels full whenever she sees his eyes light up with genuine surprise and awe. She learns that he quite appreciates physical touch, and makes sure to reach for him often. Touching his arm, finding any reason to hug him, and offering a modest kiss on the cheek upon being rescued. He also finds great comfort and solace in words of affirmation, reminding him that she sincerely enjoys his company and finds him to be very cute. She loves how he blushes.

One night, after a date he put a lot of work into arranging, Peach expresses her gratitude for his effort, and tells him that she thinks she would like to kiss him. Blinking, Mario finds himself endeared to her shy and slightly clumsy request. He approaches her with his familiar soft manner.

"Close your eyes," he says with that bashful smile, and she does.

He kisses her forehead. His hands gingerly rest on her face, and she lets out a shaky breath. "Is this okay?" he asks, and she nods. He kisses her temple, and then her cheek. His mustache tickles. Her entire body feels like it's buzzing.

He pauses, his thumb stroking her face, before he tilts his head to kiss her on the lips.

She melts. It's tender and sweet. All the stories she had read emphasized the importance of a first kiss, and his delicate manner was better than anything she could have imagined. He pulls away, his eyes shining under the starlight, only for her to seize his hands.

"I want you to kiss me again," she says.

He smiles, and he does.

[not-poignant]

how do you have the time to write all this stuff /and/ play video games etc etc at the same time? Is it just that you write insanely fast after all these years? I have a lot of hobbies, writing being one of them, and i have such a hard time juggling them lol.

Hi anon,

So, real talk -> The reality is I don't have the time to write and play video games at the same time most of the time.

I haven't written anything since the 17th. I haven't started the next Palmarosa chapter. I'm on day 8 of not having opened a new document and writing anything.

I've edited a whole two chapters (which I suspect I have to go over again) and I've responded to some comments and asks, and that's it. No writing, no growing wordcount, I've been stagnating / not doing anything due to burnout since the 17th (I know the date because I have a giant whiteboard of completed chapters next to me).

Honestly, most of the time I don't actually have the time to read, play video games, watch television, or movies. I am too busy writing/editing/sleeping. With Toby in the mix, the small amount of media I was consuming has vanished.

Sometimes I can play certain video games while writing - these are usually low stakes video games I can endlessly put on pause and then play for five minutes at a time, like Dorfromantik and Garden Galaxy. Any kind of idler video game, like Havendock is also good for this.

Anon, you can't have a lot of hobbies and actually keep up with them and write the way I do, and therapist/s wouldn't recommend you drop all of your hobbies to write the way I do anyway. Trust me.

I had two things I wanted to start learning this year, and I haven't started learning them yet. I don't have the capacity. I had a therapist gently point out to me that if I was always at 100 in terms of output, how can I have any energy leftover for self-work and processing? The answer is: I don't. (That's actually why I've spent a week playing video games, and if anything it's just reminded me that my capacity is still at 100 and this is going to take a bit of concerted decompression).

Most of the time it's not normally quite this overwhelming. Toby has just maxed me out because he's a high energy dog who is also a puppy with Separation Anxiety, and there's no quick or easy fix for that. But most of the time it's still very intense. The list of shows I really want to watch, and books I really want to read, is very long. But I often don't have time to indulge in those things because I'm too busy writing.

A lot of the time I don't actually have the time to reread my own fics anymore, outside of editing.

This year was meant to kind of tackle that more decisively but you know then we got a puppy so... not so much.

But yeah anon, there is no 'how do you do this and do this' - you don't do one of those things, or you do it very haphazardly, in small amounts.

I do write very fast (my wordcount is 120-150wpm), but I don't edit fast (I'd tender that editing fast for most people is a bit of an oxymoron), I don't answer asks fast (some of the longer ones take me an hour to compose), etc. And even then, writing fast is not the same as the time it takes to think out the chapter, to figure out what's happening, letting it percolate etc. A lot of my life is also just resting. I lose about 2-5 hours of every afternoon to sleep or rest for example, where nothing productive happens. And I think one of the reasons I read so many manwha atm is that they're so easy to read comparatively, and so quick, and that's the only way I can really consume stories these days.

[foryouwereinmysong]

Do you think John and Paul ever saw each other again after ‘76? Or even talked on the phone? I know Paul says they did but every so often doubt creeps in and I start wondering if Paul isn’t just making up stories to convince himself that they were still friends. Your thoughts?

Thank you for the ask! It made me look back at John's last interviews and some of Paul's earliest after the murder. I don't think Paul made up the phone calls, because he has been consistent in talking about them since the early 80s. In his interviews shortly after John's death he talks about it quite detailed and I don't think he would make something like this up. For other speculations about their last meeting I found this great blogspot post: https://mccartnet.blogspot.com/2012/04/when-was-lennon-and-mccartneys-last.html

What I do wonder is, if they maybe saw each other for the last time in 1978. John mentions in 1980 he thinks that the "turning Paul away incident" was like 2 years ago and Geoffrey Giuliano claims that John, Yoko, Paul and Linda went to see the movie "Pretty Baby" together, which was released in April 1978. (The lost Lennon diaries) - but people say he's not a reliable source... But maybe John didn't turn Paul away the day after the SNL evening (24th of April 1976), but after the movie night? But then again Sean was already a toddler in 1978...

WELL if somebody did more research on this, I would love to know, but I'll end it here, because I think in the end there won't be a really satisfying answer. And maybe the important part is that the love they had for each other never went away either way.

(Newsweek, 1982, by Jim Miller)  Q: "Did you see much of him before he died?"

PAUL: "I saw him quite a bit. Always, the problem was talking business. Whenever we got into business, we got into an argument. It wasn't a pleasant framework for a relationship. When Sean (John and Yoko's son) was first born, I visited him a few times at the Dakota (Lennon's apartment house in New York). And then it had gone snotty. I used to turn up without calling him. One time, he got annoyed with me. He said, 'Well, look, man... Why do you just keep turning up here and surprise us? Why don't you just call first?' And I took that the wrong way. After that, I don't think I did see him. I phoned a few times. As long as we were talking about family, about life, it was good. The last time I spoke to him, I got off the phone and it felt like old friends again. I've talked to Yoko since then, and she's said to me, 'You know, he really was quite fond of you.' I think we were pretty close. But, sometimes, with brothers, you argue. They can be the most intense arguments, too."

(Playboy, 1984, by Joan Goodman) PLAYBOY: "Do you remember your last conversation with John?"

PAUL: "Yes. That is a nice thing, a consoling factor for me, because I do feel it was sad that we never actually sat down and straightened our differences out. But fortunately for me, the last phone conversation I ever had with him was really great, and we didn't have any kind of blowup. It could have easily been one of the other phone calls, when we blew up at each other and slammed the phone down."

PLAYBOY: "Do you remember what you talked about?"

PAUL: "It was just a very happy conversation about his family, my family. Enjoying his life very much; Sean was a very big part of it. And thinking about getting on with his career. I remember he said, 'Oh, God, I'm like Aunt Mimi, padding round here in me dressing gown' ...robe, as he called it, cuz he was picking up the American vernacular... 'feeding the cats in me robe and cooking and putting a cup of tea on. This housewife wants a career!' It was that time for him. He was about to launch Double Fantasy."

(Playboy, September 1980, by David Sheff) PLAYBOY: "Aside from the millions you've been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels' generous offer of $3200 for appearing together on 'Saturday Night Live' a few years ago?"

LENNON: "Oh, yeah. Paul and I were together watching that show. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired."

PLAYBOY: "How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together?"

LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him, 'Please call before you come over. It's not 1956 and turning up at the door isn't the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.' He was upset by that, but I didn't mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day and some guy turns up at the door... But, anyway, back on that night, he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there, watching the show, and we went, 'Ha-ha, wouldn't it be funny if we went down?' but we didn't."

PLAYBOY: "Was that the last time you saw Paul?"

LENNON: "Yes, but I didn't mean it like that." (Newsweek, 29th of September 1980, by Barbara Graustark) Q: "Paul McCartney's theory is that you became a recluse because you'd done everything - but be yourself."

JOHN: "What the hell does that mean? Paul didn't know what I was doing - he was as curious as everyone else. It's ten years since I really communicated with him. I know as much about him as he does about me, which is zilch. About two years ago, he turned up at the door. I said, 'Look, do you mind ringin' first? I've just had a hard day with the baby. I'm worn out and you're walkin' in with a damn guitar!"