#Maybe I’ll rework it later

[skeletonalley]

She’s going to be the end of Jean-Luc (and me too, let’s be honest)

Inspired by @the-alpha-incipiens Picrusher fanfic (it lives in my head rent free). I can’t hear “doctor’s orders” without blushing, now. A few changes to the scene for art reasons (tm)

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

stages - j. marino

summary: from gym girl to girlfriend

warnings: john x f!reader, swearing, fluff, mentions of a cold/flu and a broken wrist, mention of the reader running and catering business, consumption of painkillers/flu medicine

word count: 6.6k

“You’re not going to stick around?” 

You stopped walking, your attention solely focused on trying to find your car keys from the deep depths of a hectic gym bag, but even you couldn’t deny that the sound of an increasingly familiar voice distracted you. 

It was a consequence of using the gym closest to the rink, you supposed. That, or just sheer chance that your gym of choice was also the exact gym that John Marino chose to frequent. But it was honestly just one heck of a fucking coincidence that each time you stepped foot inside the building, he was also there. Somehow you’d – against your will – managed to go from polite greetings on the treadmill to considering each other friends.

It was a weird dynamic, one that didn’t particularly extend outside of this one gym, but he was clearly comfortable enough to insinuate he wanted you to hang around a little while longer. If you didn’t already know his plans for the day you’d have probably thrown him an amused glance, or maybe even entertained the thought.

You shook your head, fingers clasping eagerly around your keys, before finally turning to look at him. He was wearing a compression shirt, his hair only slightly damp because this short trip of his was only to warm himself up before he’d journey across the street to the practice rink, and there was a careful kind of look on his face. He was watching your reaction, head tilted, hands wringing a water bottle.

He already knew what your answer would be, because like you knew his plans, he knew yours, and even though he knew the effort was futile, it would never stop him trying.

“Are you ever gonna come and watch me skate?”

You shrugged, watching him walk over to his own locker and pull out a hoodie, “I’ve seen you skate.”

He shook his head adamantly, making for the door and holding it open for you to follow him, “Not in person, that’s different.”

You were about to protest, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading, but before you could, he pulled a face, and whatever was about to follow you knew was going to be a teasing jab in your direction, “Oh, wait. I think I get it, you just want to see me up close, because you won’t get that if you come to a game? You’ll miss looking at my face.”

You huffed a laugh, “That psychology degree is finally getting put to use, huh?” 

The teasing smile was still on his face, even as he turned to look at you right as you both walked out of the building and into the daylight. He was confused, the slight and fractional twitch of his eyebrow showed that, as did the way his mouth seemed to twist as his brain reworked your words.

It must have been because you didn’t deny his words that made him falter in his step and squint into the sun. You felt your cheeks heat up and your attention was thankfully stolen by the hollers and shouts from the other side of the street – you couldn’t make out the face from where you were standing, but from the size of the pairing alone, it looked like the Hughes brothers waving on the sidewalk.

“Maybe next time.” You muttered quietly, more to yourself than to the curly haired man in front of you, because if you didn’t say the words aloud like some kind of mantra, you knew you might actually never end up seeing him skate. This way, the promise felt real. And he seemed to have heard your voice carry over the slight breeze because he almost snapped his neck turning to look at you, and every morsel in your body recoiled at his quick reaction, “I’ll let you get going.” You stuffed your hands in your pockets, avoiding his eyes (he still hadn’t said anything, but there was absolutely no doubt in your mind that he had something to say).

“I’ll see you later.” He mumbled, nodding. 

*** 

You had a sneaking suspicion that John didn’t know you were here – in fact, it wasn’t really a suspicion, you knew he didn’t know you were here. It was partly down to the fact that he’d already asked you and you’d had to decline because, technically, this was a work thing, it just so happened that his work thing and your work thing were the same work thing.

You’d been debating on how to approach him, mostly when you should have been paying attention to whoever it was that you were in a conversation with, but he just kept catching your eye. You didn’t know if he was just in a spot that you seemed to naturally redirect your eyes to, or if his almost lonely mood was catching you off guard. 

He was a talkative person once you got to know him, but he’d spent the majority of the night stuck shoulder to shoulder with Luke Hughes, the two of them clearly muttering comments to each other under their breaths, usually one that would send them both spiralling into short fits of laughter before they’d inevitably straighten and try to look more professional in the face of a big boss or investor walking past. 

It was weird seeing him in such a formal setting, and in a suit nonetheless. Fuck, if you knew he could clean up that well, you’d have been eagerly accepting his game invites just on the off chance that you’d see him dressed up. It was certainly different to seeing him in his shorts or joggers and a gym top – not that an outfit choice such as that was entirely unappealing (it most certainly wasn’t – he wore his gym clothes very well) for someone like him; meaning he could pull off a plastic bin bag if he really wanted to.

You hadn’t really spoken to each other since the other day and that awkward comment was made. Even the texting seemed to have slowed a little bit, and if it wasn’t for his ‘are you busy tomorrow night?’ message, you’d have just assumed he wasn’t even interested and taken a hint and left him alone until you’d found yourself enamoured by someone else.

Though…looking at him now, smile lines making a full appearance and grinning mischievously, you weren’t entirely sure it would be too easy to even look in someone else’s direction when what was in front of you was so incredible.

That being said, the person in front of you wasn’t John in any way, shape, or form. You didn’t know who they were or what they did, but they were talking to you about something to do with hockey equipment–

“I’m the caterer.” You blurted, cringing almost apologetically when they halted with their glass halfway to their mouth, a look of mild shock passing over their features.

“Oh.” They started, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were the…nevermind, I apologise.” They hurried to correct themselves, and they were being so polite about it all you couldn’t help it when you jumped in.

“No, please don’t apologise, I should have said something sooner.” There was a brief pause where the both of you shared an amused look, “But if you want to know about the food?”

Their eyes seemed to light up, “Is there a dairy-free option?” 

“Yeah, there is. You want me to show you?” 

“Please.” They nodded gratefully, eagerly hurrying after you, and it was just then that John saw you out of the corner of his eye.

Granted, it wasn’t necessarily you that he saw, but a flurry of quick motion in his periphery. The kind of quick motion that would normally draw the eye under any circumstance, and it was as his eyes slid back to Luke that he felt something click in his brain – he didn’t quite understand what it was until his eyes returned back to…you.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his lips parting, all completely against his will. He blinked once, twice, then three times just to be on the safe side, but…you were still there: talking animatedly to one of the sponsors and pointing to the food assortment along the table with a bright grin on your face. 

Luke’s mouth was moving but John swore there wasn’t any sound coming out, or nothing of that much value, anyway, because his entire attention was completely devoted to you, as he always seemed to find it. He felt his jaw clench, confusion beginning to stir as his mind reworked old conversations for something that he might have missed.

Boyfriend? No.

Family relations? He didn’t think so.

Did you know anyone else on the team? He was the only one, he was sure of it.

Work?

Work. He remembered you’d mentioned something about catering, but he’d just assumed you worked in a restaurant with how vague you’d been about it all.

But it made sense.

“Isn’t that your Gym Girl?” Luke bumped into his shoulder, his voice dripping with awe, and John wanted to cover his eyes. He wanted to grab Luke by the shoulders and physically turn his attention elsewhere, and that sudden desire to keep you out of his reach struck a nerve.

He’d never found Luke annoying before. He didn’t like it that much.

Instead, however, he schooled his expression into one that gave the impression that, yes, he knew you’d be here, and shrugged, still keeping his eyes on your figure, “She has a name.”

Luke ignored his comment, “She’s…wow.”

John frowned, turning to Luke and taking in the little glint in his eye and the drop of his jaw. He was beginning to find the child incessantly annoying, even if he was right in his words – “Jack wants you, look.” This time John actually laid his hands on Luke and twisted him to point over to where Jack was watching them rather curiously, sheer dumb look he supposed, and pushed him in his brother’s direction before making the rather bold decision to interrupt your conversation before he could psych himself out too much.

It had been a good few days since he’d last seen you, and since then he didn’t think he’d actually had any mental reprieve from your earlier conversation about him finally putting his degree to use, and if he was honest, John kind of wanted an answer. He’d like to bring it up somehow, maybe later on in the evening or maybe not even tonight – but if there was one thing he’d describe himself as, he’d probably say he was pretty good at checking off a to-do list once it had been established, and getting to the root of that was definitely on there somewhere.

It wasn’t a priority, though.

But talking to you must be, because before he could even register the sickening thump of nervousness in his chest, he’d found himself standing directly to your right, one hand awkwardly holding his tie in place and his other shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

You were still talking to the other person about the food, and he decided – for the sake of not wanting to interrupt – he’d made a dire mistake, and immediately changed course and darted left, only to find himself in front of a blank wall within a few short strides.

He sighed, placing his hands on his cheeks, and automatically pulled his phone out of his pocket with the faux urgency he’d mastered in the face of an awkward situation: wherever he felt a little bit too self-conscious in a public space, he’d reach for his phone. It gave his hands something to do, his brain something to be distracted by, and to onlookers it might make it seem like his awkwardness and fumbling was intentional: after all, no one could really avoid an important call or text, could they?

This time, though, he inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his nerves. He knew part of it was because he was technically at work, with his colleagues that were probably watching his every move if Luke had blabbed as expected – and that just added a whole new layer of pressure that he hadn’t previously considered before. 

Was it why you kept shooting down his invitation to a game? His teammates could be intimidating if they wanted to be.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a string of messages – your messages to each other – pulled up. He blinked, frowning briefly, unable to recall even opening his message app, let alone seeking out your contact.

He’d been doing it more often, actually–

“Hi.” 

He whirled around on his heel, jacket flapping with the brusqueness of the motion, and came to face you. He slid his phone back into his pocket, never really finding the strength to concentrate too much on where he was placing it, and before he could even consider replying, there was a dull thud and you were holding his phone out towards him, looking equally as apprehensive as he was.

“Thanks.” He muttered breathlessly, a flash of warmth tingling his hands.

You just nodded, your own hands fiddling with themselves in front of you, and he was watching – at least, he was until you seemed to become aware he was watching you do it and then you hid them behind your back almost instinctively.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking back up to your face, “Fancy seeing you here.”

And he did fancy seeing you here, if he was being honest with himself. You looked lovely. You always do, but there’s something a little bit more thrilling to him about seeing you here wearing more formal clothes than seeing you inside a gym wearing sports gear.

It was a nice change, he decided.

You cracked a smile at his comment, and before he could think too much into it, he was echoing the same sentiment back at you, “I know, right? You’re gonna be sick of me by the end of the night.”

“Oh, please.” He shrugged, unable to help himself, “That could never happen.”

He froze, hand once again attempted to put his phone inside his blazer pocket. He couldn't do anything, not even breathe, as he waited for your reaction. His words had slipped out a little too easily and with not enough hesitancy. He hadn’t even had time to think that maybe he shouldn’t have said that, before you stepped in, thankfully not too taken aback by it.

“Never say never.”

And he swore, right as his phone dropped into the pocket, that he felt something in him snap at the expression on your face and your sudden change in demeanour. But you seemed to flick out of it almost as soon as you’d done it, because in the next instant you were happier somehow, and he just knew that teasing lilt in your tone was more self-deprecating than he would have liked to think.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, I don’t even know, I guess I was trying to surprise you?” You got out, eyes darting everywhere but his face. 

Maybe it was because he was beginning to take the breath out of your lungs with every second you spent actually looking at him, or maybe it was because you were conscious of other eyes watching you both from afar, but there was something a little bit odd about the way you were feeling in that moment.

It felt like you wanted…John. The man in front of you. In a ‘hold his hand’ way.

Which was new.

So, the crush had intensified. It was the exact thing you had to realise at that moment in time. How terribly inconvenient of you.

It could only go downhill from here, couldn’t it?

John did something with his face, and you glanced at him, noting the smile lines in his cheek from a closed-mouth smile, “It was a pretty nice surprise.”

There was a lull in conversation, the both of you awkwardly looking at each other and then looking away, trying not to show the smiles on both of your faces. It was a weird coincidence that you’d been chosen as the caterer for such a large event for such a well-known team, but here you were, amidst John’s teammates – of who you’d been putting off meeting sheerly for the reason that it might be a little weird for the girl from his gym to purposefully attend a game or practice session with the intention of doing just that, but you supposed it couldn’t really hurt if it was classed as a ‘work thing’.

Although, the man next to you certainly made the entire night more bearable. An hour and a half later you two were still talking to each other, sitting down this time with your kneecaps touching and an elbow resting on one of the tables, unconsciously tuning out nearly everyone and everything else.

It felt cliche and you almost felt sorry for inadvertently stealing him away from his teammates just because you happened to be there, but you couldn’t really find it within yourself for that to be a genuine concern. It was the longest you’d ever talked to each other, really. A coffee after the gym was sometimes in the cards, but usually you’d just forgo wearing headphones when you saw his car parked in the lot and spend the hour in the gym talking to each other – but it never got this far.

Your attention was stolen momentarily by a sudden dimming of the lights and a change in the music, and a flurry of bodies slowly tiptoed out to the supposed ‘dancefloor’. The person you’d been talking to earlier was there; there were players with their partners; coaches with their partners; parents with their kids.

You turned to look at John, an eyebrow raised in question at the spectacle, but he had a kind of soft haze about him as he watched his people begin to dance with each other; it wasn’t anything particularly special – some people were off to the side chatting and some people were just swaying, but it was obvious it had become a kind of tradition at these kinds of events.

“All staff and players are recommended to stand up at this point,” he started talking, head still turned towards the floor, giving you a perfect view of his side profile, and you watched him talk fondly, “Apparently it encourages people to get ‘more involved’ or something.” And then he shrugged, inhaling and turning back to you, halting at the look on your face, “What?”

“You’re still sitting.”

“I’m talking to you.”

That shut you up a bit: he’d said it so quickly and with such fierce conviction, as though there couldn’t even be single other reason for him not doing as he was told, and all you could do was roll your eyes and breathe a short huff of laughter, trying with all your might not to read into it too much or blush under the lights.

You’d done so well not to, so far.

“You don’t have to, you…don’t you network at these things?” 

He blinked, tilting his head in an amused fashion, “Network? Hm, that’s cute.” 

You stared right at him, unimpressed, “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you have to chat up the sponsors?”

Instead of answering your question, he turned briefly to the crowd of people on the floor, not uttering a word – and if you’d known him any less, you’d have just assumed he hadn’t heard you at all, but the look he’d got on his face indicated he was clearly thinking about something. There was a slight furrow in the middle of his brows, and his mouth was twisted thoughtfully.

You hadn’t even realised you were staring until he turned quite brusquely back to you, a hint of a mischievous smile on his face as he did so, “Who are you going to dance with?”

You felt your face drop more than you realised you were doing it at all, and the comical jump of his brows was enough to tell you he’d anticipated your reaction. 

“I’m working.” You excused, almost scoffing at the question.

“You’ve already worked. The food’s been made and put out. Who are you going to dance with?” He repeated the question with a considerable amount of vigour, and you had an inkling he asked it sheerly for coaxing a specific answer out of you.

You narrowed your eyes, dragging out the silence a little longer than what was necessary. You contemplated teasing him – maybe mentioning Nico – but ultimately opted on the side of caution.

“With you.” 

He just grinned.

***

You blinked wearily, your head heavy and fuzzy and your wrist in so much agony is hurt to even stand up under the force of gravity. The hand in the cast was painfully cold, the fingers freezing to the touch, and you found yourself wincing on instinct as you used your other hand to curl the fingers into your fist. 

You felt a little bit sick, if you were being honest. The painkillers must have worn off mid-nap on the couch because as soon as you’d pushed yourself into a sitting position a shooting throb seemed to echo right from the crack in your wrist bone to the very tips of your toes, and you walked rather blearily to the pile of meds on the table, washing some painkillers down with water.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d been woken up because of something else until a knock sounded at your door, quite frantically. You stood in the middle of your living room rather dumbly, only able to tug your hoodie sleeve further down the bulky cast to cover the tip of your fingers, your brain too exhausted to even contemplate what the knock could mean or who it could be.

Your feet didn’t move, and you found nothing in you reacted to the sound like you usually would have. On a normal day you’d have jumped up to peer through the peephole to see who it was – but that didn’t happen. 

At least not until a rather dull thump echoed across your door and an equally tired groan could be heard from the other side.

That sent your mind working again, because you knew that voice, though not in that context. There was just something recognisable about the undertones there that seemed to ring a rather important bell in your head, and you stepped forward, peeking through the hole just to be sure.

As luck would have it, there leaned a mop of curly hair just next to the number on your door, and you didn’t even need to see that familiar slope of his nose or the shape of his mouth to know who it was. He lifted his head, and from the resignation in his face you could tell he was just about to walk away.

You probably would have let him: you hadn’t actually managed to tell anyone other than your parents that you’d broken your wrist, for a variety of reasons: there wasn’t any cell service in the hospital; you’d got back to your apartment and immediately passed out from exhaustion and pain; and you’d broken your dominant wrist, which meant doing just about anything was twice the faff, and you hadn’t quite mastered the art of charging your phone or texting with one hand only without getting frustrated ( you’d actually thrown it across your bed and lost it in the small gap between the frame and the wall). And the idea of opening the door to him all ‘surprise!’ didn’t seem particularly appealing.

Or it wouldn’t have if he didn’t look as exhausted as you felt, with a red nose, pale cheeks and the packet of tissues clutched in his hand. He clearly wasn’t too well either.

“Wait!” You called through the door, voice still groggy and hoarse, and tried to unlock your door as quickly as you could without fumbling the chain or accidentally shutting the door before you could wedge your foot in the crack to prise it open with your non-injured hand.

You hid the cast behind your back, trying to appear chipper as you held your door open with your foot and smiled politely. It felt a little futile, though, with the way he seemed to blink uncertainty as his attention zipped to the bags under your own eyes and the lack of colour in your cheeks.

“Hi.” You mumbled, your brain still a bit of a jumble as you almost slurred your words.

He yawned, leaning his head against your door frame in an adorable manner and clearing his throat, “Hi.”

You had to stop yourself from lifting your hand up to comb his curls back from his forehead, and instead opted to give in to your instincts and smiled softly at him. 

He reciprocated it, albeit a little sadly, “I thought you died.”

The smile on your face turned upside down, and instead of replying, you opened your door further, letting him step inside, still ensuring to keep your hand behind your back and away from his eyes until you felt as though you could tell him properly.

“You didn’t come to the gym last night and I texted but you didn’t answer, and you always come to the gym even if you’re sick, and I was just a bit worried, y’know?” He rambled, wandering towards your bathroom, “And then I woke up this morning and had to phone in sick because I feel like shit and I remember seeing the cold medications in your cu–”

He stopped, eyeing the packets of painkillers on the coffee table with both intrigue and concern, before turning to face you, eyes trying to justify any possible reason for that many packets to be out and already consumed, until his gaze came to a stop on the arm concealed behind your back. One hand came up to point at you, but before he could get any words out, he succumbed to three rather violent sneezes, all in immediate succession of each other, and by the time he’d finished, his eyes seemed redder and his cheeks even paler than before.

In fact, he blinked hard before moving himself to sit on the sofa, his head between his hands, still and silent.

“John?” You frowned, coming to sit beside him, this time uncaring if he saw the cast on your wrist or not, and placed one hand on his thigh. His eyes were screwed shut and his jaw was held ajar and crooked, deep breaths inflating his lungs slowly.

“Dizzy.” He groaned, pressing his thumbs to the bridge of his nose, and you inhaled sharply, continuing his journey to the bathroom and pulling out the necessary packets for him. You poured him a glass of water, coming to sit beside him once more, this time having some trouble popping out the tablets with one hand, and it was a particularly frustrated sigh that had him blinking cautiously to watch you.

“So, you’ve come to steal my drugs and give me your germs, huh?” You muttered fondly, about to ask him for help, but he interrupted before you could say anything else.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled, clearly ignorant to your teasing comment, his eyes fixated on your cast before trailing up to your face, moving slowly so as to not disturb another episode of dizziness.

You cringed, “I broke my wrist yesterday.” 

There was a beat of silence when you watched him watch you, heart pounding a little harder than it usually would due to the unfamiliar situation. John was always caring, always wanting to help in some way, and you adored him for it, but this was a little different.

This time you guys were in a new relationship…and there was  a small part of you that was a little worried that he’d take this as you not trusting him.

“How?” He blinked, the one word obviously not the only thing he wanted to say, but something he’d settled for for the sake of it.

You shook your palm, trying to get him to take the pills from you, and he did, swallowing them with the glass of water on the coffee table, before physically turning himself to face you, the look on his face suggesting he wasn’t about to do anything until you answered his question.

“I was…” You inhaled sharply, eyes darting from his face and the flaming of your cheeks only seemed to make you more nervous for what you were about to tell him, and instead busied yourself with picking up the box of tissues on the coffee table and holding it out for him to take, “I was with one of my friends, and she was teaching me to skate.” Your voice trailed off pathetically, almost too embarrassed to even look in his general direction.

You could imagine he was blinking, trying to make the words compute in his head, eyes boring into the side of your face like a madman. Maybe he was managing a small smile, too.

“Teaching you?” He asked, voice somehow rough and soft at the same time, and it was the warmth in his tone along with the complete lack of judgement that had you hesitantly taking a peek at him out of the corner of your eye.

You’d been right – on some level. He was hiding an amused smile behind his hand, and his eyes were wide with pleasant shock.

You nodded, rolling your eyes, “Teaching, yeah.”

He faltered, mouth open as though he was going to say something and thought better of it, before ultimately deciding to go through with it, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about breaking a wrist?”

“No, it’s embarrassing that I don’t know how to skate. I didn’t call you because there’s no cell service in the ER and then it pissed me off that I couldn’t type quickly enough and now my phone is wedged down the side of my bed and I can’t reach it.” You rambled, eyes widening in a rather self-deprecating manner, “Then I passed out.”

He sniffed, plucking a tissue from the box, his other hand almost going to hold yours before thinking better of it, “Did you go to the hospital by yourself?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the sofa.

“What did the doctors say about it?”

“It’s a Colles fracture, so I’m gonna have to wear a cast for a few weeks before they change it for a splint.” You sighed, picking at the end of the cast with disdain. The painkillers had eased some of the pain to a throb that seemed to beat on time to your pulse, but it was still uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And you were exhausted, as was the man next to you.

“I’d touch you but I don’t want to give you my germs.”

If he hadn’t looked so genuinely upset at that you might have said something else, maybe teased him a little, but with the heaviness tugging at his features already, you tilted your head, “You do look pretty rough.”

He rolled his eyes, a gap-toothed grin showing itself, “Thanks.”

“Still cute, though.” You grinned, nudging his hoodie clad arm with your own, unable to help yawning nearly immediately after, “Do you want to stay and have a nap?”

He raised his brows, clearly a little surprised by the offer, “Even when I’ve got the lurgy?”

You shrugged, “I’m probably gonna get it at some point anyway. Better to be ill together at the same time.”

“Even with your broken wrist?” 

You paused, acting like you were considering changing your mind, and John huffed a laugh. You could tell he was unsure about your proposal, maybe he’d feel a bit guilty giving you his cold when you were already in a state yourself, because it was clear he was holding himself back from being his usual affectionate-self.

“Do you have an ulterior motive?” He asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“Not entirely, but I might need you to reach my phone.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes later that you were both cuddled up under your covers, your phone now safely plugged in and charging, you on the brink of sleep when John seemed to jolt up in remembrance of something. His sudden motions had your heart beating and a shot of adrenaline coursing through your body, perhaps thinking he was en route to throw up or something, but when you turned on your bedside lamp, he was grinning lazily, his eyes a little sleepy.

“What?”

He breathed a laugh, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know how to skate?”

You shrugged, “I was gonna surprise you, I guess. You said there was that skate thing coming up, right? I was gonna suggest we go, but I wanted to practise and…it didn’t go very well.”

The cheeky grin seemed to melt off his face at your quiet admission, replaced by a softer, more sincere one, “You were gonna say yes to that?”

You pressed your lips together self-consciously, unable to help feeling strangely vulnerable with the intensity in his stare. You were very aware of the fact that you didn’t look your best, wearing Barbie PJ’s, and your hair was an absolute mess. Add that on top of not having had the chance to shower, you were pretty positive you didn’t smell too great either (you did douse yourself in deodorant earlier), so it felt almost unjustifiable that you were on the receiving end of such a look.

“Yeah.” You muttered, “I thought it best to at least try to look like I knew what I was doing if I was gonna be in the presence of professional skaters and cameras.”

His brows jumped up his forehead animatedly, head unintentionally leaning closer to yours in excitement. One of your favourite things about him had to be the way he was so unashamed to show enthusiasm for even the smallest things – it was always written so seamlessly and effortlessly in the way he’d nod his head when he was listening to you or the way he’d hold himself to show you he was interested. It had always tugged on your heartstrings, even when you’d first met him.

He didn’t say anything, but there was an odd expression on his face, like he was having an internal discussion with himself, and before you could stop it, you blurted a rather impatient “What?”.

He pulled a face, cheeks reddening slightly despite the chill to his skin, “I don’t know how to – I’m not good at talking about it, I’m not sure how to talk about it because it’s kind of overwhelming in a way that I can’t string the words together or something, but…” he sighed, “If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more, and–Aargh.”

“You just quoted Mr Knightley.” You interrupted, eyes widening upon realising just what you’d interrupted him from saying.

“That’s what you got from that?”

You paused, eyes darting across the shadows of his face. You could just make out the smile lines on his face and the slow, weary blinks as he fought off the sleep he’d been dying to succumb to, and if wasn’t for the fact that he’d instigated this half-asleep conversation you’d probably feel a smithereen of guilt for teasing him in that state, but all you could do was nod and attempt to conceal just how smitted you felt. Fatigue tended to lower your inhibitions.

“Well, no, but…” 

His grin seemed to widen and he pressed his face into your pillow, curls begging for you to run your hand through, and sent you a rather expectant glance that had you rolling your eyes fondly.

“You know I love you too. It just…”

“It still feels weird, huh?” He murmured, raising a brow and widening his eyes after a snotty sniff, “I still get nervous.”

“With me?”

He breathed a laugh, “Saying it. You just constantly floor me, I wouldn’t say you made me nervous, not like you used to.”

“The novelty’s worn off a bit, huh?”

“I prefer it that way.” He gave a short, self-deprecating huff, “I can function around you now.”

***

Luke knew John had been hiding something for weeks, if not months. And each time he cast his mind back to trace the source, the one thing that kept coming up was that Gala and Gym Girl being the surprise caterer – probably one or two days before John had shaken his head rather despondently after Luke had asked if she’d said yes yet. After that night (each and every time Luke looked over their way, they were both completely enamoured with each other, ignorant to anyone else passing by at that moment in time), John had changed.

Whether it was just how generally happy he’d been lately, even without saying it; whether it was his sudden attachment to his phone; whether it was keeping an overnight bag in his car – it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was up, Luke felt he was proof enough of that. But what he wasn’t quite sure of, was if anyone else had noticed the slight change in the older Defenceman.

John was a quiet type, Luke could happily yap to him and he’d nod along and ask questions when it was appropriate to, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was like that with just him, or if it was just a John-thing.

Yet, here they all were – the team, families, friends…John. With a girl. The girl: Gym Girl.

And because Luke had spent so much time with him, he knew that John wouldn’t bring someone to these kinds of events if it wasn’t serious. It’d have probably been serious for a while and just kept quiet to let them both figure things out between them – Luke understood that.

In fact, it was Jack’s innocently curious question that made Luke feel a little bit more smug than he probably should have.

“Who’s that John’s with?”

Luke glanced over at the pair once more: John with a sweet smile on his face that he’d never seen directed at anyone else ever before; his girlfriend with a cast on her wrist skating like a baby giraffe, John holding onto her pretty tightly as she wobbled on her blades.

It was a cute sight, Luke could admit that. 

“His girlfriend.” He replied, fighting a smile when Jack’s head snapped in his direction, shock dripping from every feature.

“His what?”

“Girlfriend.” Luke grinned this time, “Y’know, his romantic part–”

“I know what a girlfriend is, you little shit.” Jack sighed, “When did that happen?”

Luke shrugged, “A while back, I think.”

Neither of the brothers said anything, but Luke was wondering if anyone else had had the same conversation within the last twenty minutes. Nico was talking to Timo, Curtis was hanging around with some of the media people – had they all asked the same questions, or did they already know?

“If you could pick someone on our team to get married and not tell us until they’ve got kids, who wou–”

“John.” Luke interrupted Jack, the both of them sharing a knowing smile.

[jullbnt]

I don't know if this is too simple for a request, but how about Twilight Princess Link as a child with Ocarina of Time Link acting as a father figure next to him? (Feel free to reject this though if you have too much on your plate!!)

Oh my heart 🥺

I've wanted to draw baby Twilight for a while so this is perfect!! I don't know if you had something that soft in mind but here it is :)

And here’s another quick sketch of the Hero of Time passing on his most sacred knowledge of magic beans 😆

(Idk I thought it was a cute idea? Maybe I’ll rework it later)

I sprained my ankle yesterday and am in quite a bit of pain right now so this felt comforting to draw (and now I need more Time being a dad)

The good side of things is that I'm on medical leave for the week so I'll have plenty of time to work on your requests 😁

———————

I won’t accept more requests at the moment! This is a request I received for my 500 followers celebration and I still have a lot to do :)

Answered art requests

[currebunz]

Homecoming (Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader)

A/N: I decided to start something like a series. I'll rework a more detailed version of Captured at a later date.

Word was that Kenji Sato was returning to Japan. The sun rose, the sky was clear and the day seemed just right. Of course, you already knew he was coming back as you were the first person he told about his big move. You were excited to see your long time friend again, but things were different. You both were different. Kenji had become more boastful, the hard work he had put in paid off and he was reveling in the attention. He was a man now, not the boy you had known.

You had also changed, launching your singing career and becoming somewhat of an idol. Although you called yourself a musician and a singer, your fanbase rivaled that of idols. You remained humble, finding the spotlight to be too much and keeping your public appearances to concerts and TV programs. The contrast between you two was nearly like night and day. However, you didn’t let that concern you. All that mattered was getting to reunite with Kenji again.

Kenji had arrived the day before, but he needed some time to sort out his living situation as he told you. Not to pry, you decided to make plans with him before he started to pile on work. You called him with a video call, smiling at his sleepy expression.

“Don’t tell me jetlag kicked the Kenji Sato’s ass” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. You try taking a red eye half way across the world and then talk” Kenji yawned.

Even if he was a bit disheveled, he somehow made it look attractive.

“Uh huh, and who was it that said ‘the second I get off the plane we are going places?’” you asked.

“I know, I forgot about the press meeting. I’ll make it up to you somehow” Kenji sighed.

Naturally, the moment he returned to Japan the press was foaming at the mouth to get an interview with him. He had his hands tied as he couldn’t deny the publicity and the chance to look good.

“You can make it up to me with…. Okonomiyaki” you said.

“What? Okonomiyaki? You realize you are getting to chill with the Kenji Sato right? We could have anything in all of Japan! Sashimi, Fugu, Wagyu! And you want Okonomiyaki?” Kenji chuckled.

“If I wanted any of that, I’d get it myself. Besides, don’t you remember after every game we’d go out and get Okonomiyaki? You, your mom and dad, my mom’s and I would go to a local place” you began.

“Yeah, and dad would try to flip the whole thing,” Kenji sighed as he remembered.

“And all the toppings would fly off. I smelled like Bonito for three days” you laughed.

Kenji grinned, looking softer now. It made you happy seeing him like this. It reminded you of the past when he would be glued to your side.

“You think you had it bad? My uniform smelled like Okonomiyaki sauce for a week!” he laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh, recalling the tragedy of Kenji’s baseball uniform. Thankfully, your moms helped Emiko get the scent out in time for his game. As the laughter subsided, you had a silly smile on your face as you looked at Kenji.

“Well, I still want Okonomiyaki” you said.

“Fine, how about afterward?” he suggested.

“It’s gotta be before my concert” you reminded him.

“Shit, that’s right. You have a concert tonight” Kenji hissed.

You had to resist the frown from showing on your face. Of course he had forgotten, Kenji Sato was a busy man. So busy he couldn’t keep track of your schedule, even after you shared it with him.

“It’s alright, we can do it another day. Maybe when we both aren’t so busy” you sighed.

Kenji looked a bit panicked, his steel blue eyes going wide before he cleared his throat.

“N-No, no. I want to do it as soon as possible. I mean… I want to see you. In person” he said.

You hung your head low and sighed. Honestly, hearing him say that made it hard for you to meet his eyes. You slowly raised your head and gave him a wry smile.

“Alright, we can try,” you agreed.

“Maybe Kenji Sato could get VIP backstage access to the concert and surprise you?” he smirked.

“Uh-huh, I’ll let the staff know to let you in. Just don’t make yourself at home in my dressing room. I have important things in there” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Things more important than me?” he teased.

“Oh please, you know there isn’t anything more important to me than you. Well, maybe my bass guitar” you snickered.

Kenji started laughing too, relaxed that you had forgiven him and given him another chance.

“I’ll see you tonight, you’re going to be great,” he said.

“Hit a home run at the press meeting” you said back.

The call ended there, as both of you were called away for the evening. You had been in your dressing room preparing for the concert. On a large monitor was the press meeting where Kenji was… well, himself. It made your stomach tighten over how cocky he was being. You knew it would spell trouble for him with his team. But hopefully they would see the Kenji you knew.

Or rather used to know.

“[y/n] The venue has let the audience in, we're ready to go on,” your secretary announced.

“Right, thank you Kohaku” you nodded.

The show must go on, regardless of how you felt. As you left your dressing room, you turned off the monitor, Kenji’s smirk faded to black before you turned to leave. Your mind shifted to the performance, clearing your head of any other thoughts than your songs and choreography. As you stepped onto the stage, the venue exploded in cheers.

“What a huuuuuge crowd! I think we could bring the whole venue down!” you shouted.

Your fans screamed a loud response back, not that you could really understand it.

“Let’s get this show on the road! One, two, three!” you shouted.

As the music began, the crowd sang along and cheered. It was no different from your previous concerts, everything came to you easily. You could feel yourself begin to sweat as the set list made it to the halfway point. Just as it was about to reach the point where you did your signature set, a loud alarm blasted through the venue.

“Warning, Kaiju attack” came through the speakers and on every screen.

You watched as the fans began to file out, the staff guiding them to the nearest exits. You jumped off the stage, assisting the people in barricades to take the back stage exit with your staff.

“[y/n]! We have to get going!” Kohaku called to you.

“Not until everyone is safe!” you shouted back.

You looked around for any stragglers. There was a group of teens carrying one on their shoulders. You ran over to assess the situation.

“She fell and her leg got trampled, she can’t walk” one of the teens explained.

A loud roar came from above and the ground began to shake.

“Take her through the back, follow Kohaku out” you took them as you pointed to your secretary.

The teens nodded, hurrying over to Kohaku who took on the weight of the injured teen. As you watched them leave, you hear another loud roar. Metal crunched and screeched as a huge shadow loomed over. You weren’t sure what you were seeing but it was a Kaiju for sure. And it was falling backward onto the venue.

Your legs felt stiff as you hurried to run away, just in any direction to avoid being crushed. When the Kaiju finally fell backward onto the venue, you were launched into the air. Everything went dark as you felt heavy weight on your body and pain radiating through your limbs. It hurts to breathe let alone move.

“[y/n]! [y/n]!” Kohaku called for you.

You couldn’t open your mouth, the dust and dirt surrounded you. Nearby, you saw a light stick and turned it on. You hoped the light would signal to Kohaku where you were. After a few minutes, you could hear footsteps approaching.

“Right here! I need a rescue here!” Kohaku shouted.

The debris keeping you down was removed and you were rushed to a hospital.

----

The next day, you had your arm in a sling. It wasn’t bad, but you had bruises and pulled muscles. But you weren’t cleared to do any work. You had been lucky enough that Kohaku let you still attend the TV program you had agreed to be a special guest for.

“It’s not like they are going to make me do push ups,” you sighed.

“You're injured, that is going to be a beacon for gossip,” Kohaku said.

“People are going to talk regardless, at least let me have some fun while it happens” you begged.

That was how you ended up on a chair in a TV studio waiting for the cameras to start rolling. What you didn’t expect was for Kenji to be the other special guest.

“[y/n]? You’re the other guest? This is… this is great-” he stopped when he saw your arm in a sling.

“Oh yeah, we got good chemistry so we can bounce off each other” you grinned.

But Kenji just stared at your wounded arm.

“It looks worse than it feels, I’ll live” you began.

“What happened?” he asked.

“D-Don’t worry about it” you said nervously.

Before he could press further, the host interrupted you both to start the show. You forced the best smile you could, feeling Kenji’s eyes on you. The talk show started on a humorous note as the host made puns regarding both Kenji’s and your profession. It was only a matter of time before the conversation shifted to your injury.

“That’s quite the shiner you’ve got there, wasn’t it from the Kaiju attack last night?” the host asked.

“Uh… yeah. Neronga kinda fell on the venue. These things happen” you replied.

“Talk about going out with a bang, how are you holding up?” the host asked.

“I’m fine, I just need some rest” you said.

“You should’ve rested today” Kenji scolded you.

You turned to him, keeping your lips in a thin line.

“Who knew Kenji Sato was a mother hen? Looks like he does care about something other than baseball!” the host joked at your expense.

The audience laughed but you ignored his comment.

“Anyways, the KDF took care of that monster before it could turn you into a pancake. Any thoughts about it?” the host asked.

“I mean, I’m grateful the KDF managed to take care of the situation. But Ultraman kept the fighting away from my venue. I think if the KDF had let him fight it at least the destruction would have been avoided” you answered.

Kenji stared at you, swallowing as a frown set on his features.

“But didn’t Ultraman run away? I think he bit off more than he could chew back there” the host laughed.

Cue another laugh from the audience.

“We all have our bad days, I want to believe he’ll save us next time” you argued.

You turned to Kenji, noticing he looked rather guilty.

“Don’t you think so too?” you asked.

“He snapped out of the dark thoughts swarming in his head, blinking before nodding.

“Uh yeah, sure he will,” he said with false confidence.

After the show had concluded, you started to meet up with Kohaku. You heard someone jogging behind you and already knew it was Kenji.

“Hey, can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

“What’s this about? You standing me up or not answering your phone?” you asked.

Kenji cursed to himself, he had told Mina to direct all calls to voicemail.

“Both, let’s go. Right now. I know you have nothing planned with that keeping you busy” he said as he pointed to your arm sling.

You pouted at him, furrowing your brows.

“Okonomiyaki” you huffed.

“Yeah, yeah. I know” he laughed.

Kohaku was annoyed to hear that you had skipped out with Kenji. You hadn’t said that it was on his motorcycle either. There had to be some kind of rule against riding with only one good arm. But you threw caution to the wind as you used one arm to keep you grounded to Kenji. Although, he had driven more carefully knowing you were at risk of falling off. When you both reached the old Okonomiyaki restaurant, the memories began to come back.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” you said in awe.

“Don’t fix what isn’t broken or something” Kenji chuckled.

You both sat down and began to create a monster of an order. It felt like you were both kids again, mixing things and exploring new combinations. When it came time to make the pancake, you looked at Kenji with a sly grin.

“All right hot shot, you gotta cook it,” you said.

“You can at least put the topping on with your good arm,” Kenji rolled his eyes.

“Just make sure you don’t flip it on my head” you snickered.

“Oh ha, ha. Like I can’t flip a pancake” Kenji sarcastically laughed.

“Says the guy who ended up taking an Okonomiyaki shower” you continued to tease him.

“Hm, maybe you should try one,” he said as he filled a spoon with Okonomiyaki sauce.

Kenji leaned over the table to push it closer to your face.

“Ken! Don’t you dare!” you squealed.

You both began to calm down as your hunger became more apparent. Kenji managed to keep all the toppings on and flip the pancake. Now it was time to eat. You grabbed a spoon, unable to eat properly with your non-dominant hand. Kenji watched you clumsily try to eat with the spoon.

“Okay, hold up” he said and stood up.

He grabbed his chair, moving from sitting across the table from you to sitting adjacent to you. He was close enough to bump elbows with you. He raised his chopstick to your mouth.

“Say ‘Ah’” his voice came out playful as he held up a bite sized piece.

“You can’t be serious” you said as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth. The both of you moved forward and the bite sized piece of Okonomiyaki made it into your mouth.

“Oh! So good!” you exclaimed as your cheeks tingle.

“Uh huh? See? And you didn’t want my help” Kenji smirked as he fed himself.

As much as you hated yourself for thinking about it, this was an indirect kiss. You pushed the thought to the back of your mind and hummed loudly.

“Well, if you insist. Then you can feed me” you laughed.

[quibbs126]

So I made more Cookie Run human designs, featuring the Cookies of Darkness

I originally started doing this months ago with White Lily, but I never got around to doing more until this week. I had drawn Pure Vanilla and Golden Cheese, but then I got really worried that my designs were wrong and I had taken too many liberties, so I shelved them for now and did these guys instead. In which I took far less liberties I think

Honestly I feel like Licorice was my best one. He was also the first I did, which might not bode well. I guess I ran out of juice too quickly

I’d argue that Matcha’s my worst, I really didn’t know what to do with her. Tragic since she’s like my favorite of the characters

I also don’t entirely know how her hair works, so I wasn’t sure how to draw it. In my head she has a really loose bun, and the bottom parts are her hair falling out of it. I also wasn’t sure what color to make her hair. Originally it was ginger, but then I considered changing it to dirty blonde, and after asking this was the result I got. Also her horns are supposed to be hair clips, not real

Red Velvet’s weird eye is supposed to be a glass eye. I couldn’t decide between bloodshot or glass eye, and when I asked I was told that the red could still work as a glass eye, so I reworked it to look “glassy”

I feel like I could have given Poison Mushroom at least some sort of hat. And as I’m typing, freckles. Maybe I’ll add those in later

Edit: I added the freckles

Also side note but it was frustrating not giving anyone something on their face, like a mole or beauty mark or just freckles. And it’s more frustrating because most characters don’t have freckles or anything like that. Might be an opportunity for liberties

I also really only wanted to draw the first 5, but I had another row left, so I filled it with Butter Roll, Affogato and Choco Werehound Brute. Dark Enchantress was going to be drawn but I couldn’t figure out her eyes

With Butter Roll I tried to convey that he has darker roots. Don’t know how good it looks though

Affogato’s white streaks are just supposed to be dye. He seems like the type to dye his hair, though I’m not sure if he’d dye it white. Purple maybe

Choco Werehound Brute I feel like I didn’t give enough facial hair. Also I swear I’ve seen a character who looks like him before. Like in some show or just a character someone made, he looks so familiar to me

But yeah, I think that’s about it for them. Don’t know who to draw next, the other Ancients and such are for another time, so just random characters. I actually think before I started drawing these guys I was considering the Juice Bar Regulars? And company, aka Alchemist and Cocoa. Maybe I’ll draw them next, who knows

[writing-mlm]

could you please please please write a jaime reyes fic where reader is sick so jaime takes care of his boyfriend ☹️

Sick Days

Summary: Jaime’s boyfriend is sick and he’s, of course, going to stop everything to help him. Pairing: Jaime Reyes x Male reader Wc: 1k A/n: wrote this while I was (still am) sick so it’s pretty short >:(

“I told him; it’s cold, wear a jacket. It’s cold, don’t go outside with your hair wet. It’s cold, put on thick pants. But did he listen?” Jaime rambles as you’re blowing snot into yet another tissue. He’s not even in your vicinity, you can’t hear him but you can just tell he’s rambling to himself. “No, claro ‘Jaime, I’m from Alaska I’m used to the cold’. You moved to Texas when you were five and haven’t been back since!” 

“You talkin’ ‘bou’ me?” You cough, turning yourself to look into the kitchen. He stops stirring the chicken noodle soup and smiles at you. The tension in his shoulders drops and he shakes his head. 

“Course not, my love. Get your rest,” He cooes, pointing the wooden spoon in your direction. “The soup is almost done.” He adds, killing the fire and covering the pot to let it simmer for a bit longer while he gets a bowl and a plate. 

“Thank you, Jai,” 

“His lymph nodes are swelling, I recommend giving him the water bottle now and a warm rag,” Khaji-Da tells him and he hums in acknowledgment, rushing along the apartment to grab a clean rag and let it run under warm water while he fetches a new water bottle.

When he returns to the living room, he pushes you so you’re lying down and places the rag on your neck. You shudder, eyes closing while he drags the blanket up your body, tucking it under your arms and sides. 

“He needs to be in a more upright position in case he falls asleep and chokes on phlegm,” Hurriedly, he lifts you up a bit, grabbing a throw pillow and shoving it behind your back. He reworks the blanket, tucking your feet under the cover despite you trying to flick them off. 

“You’re gonna stop fighting me on this,” He chuckles while staring over at you. 

“It’s hot,” You whine. “I’m already wearin’ socks, Jaime.” The fuzzy blue and green polka dot socks kick off the blanket again and he sighs, hands on his hips. 

“Blanket over feet or you don’t get to watch TV.” You gasp, although it comes out gagged due to your sore throat. He nods, now crossing his arms and you huff. Fine, if he wants to resort to his evil ways. Again, he tucks the blanket under you and nods when you don’t put up a fuss. 

“I’ll bring you the soup now. Do you want saltine crackers with it?” Shaking your head, he hums and disappears into the kitchen. He reminds himself to clean up his mess later and then to buy canned chicken noodle soup— even if he knew his mother would kill him for making canned soup over the special homemade one. 

With the soup bowl on top of a plate, he cuts up a bread loaf and places it on the plate with a Benadryl for when you’re done eating. 

“Want more tea, cielo?” 

“Y’s plea’e,” He chuckles, although he knows he shouldn’t, and brings the kettle with him. 

He sets the plate and kettle on the coffee table and goes off to grab a chair, placing it between the couch and the table. Sitting down, he pours more tea, letting it steep while he starts feeding you. 

“I can feed m’self,” Turning your head away from the spoon, he scoots closer and puts the spoon back into the bowl. 

It’s bad enough you’re sick, although you won’t outright admit it. Because, sure, maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to go for a late-night walk during a storm and then walk to work in the light rainfall that came the following morning. But! But, in your defense. You never got sick from doing it before. 

“Considering you couldn’t feed yourself cereal this morning, no you can’t. Let me feed you.” Sighing, you turn your head back, unable to look at him as he holds the spoon out toward your mouth. If you could smell anything you’d know just how tempered Jaime was to eat the soup himself. “Open for the airplane!” He grins. 

“Ja—“ Slipping the spoon into your mouth, you glare at him while he just smiles and pulls the spoon out. The soup is good, you’ll give him that. You couldn’t smell it being made, clogged nose, and all that jazz. 

“Khaji says you’re swallowing too fast, slow down.” With another spoonful, you don’t put up a fuss this time and he’s nearly giddy. He looks away, a sign that Khaji is speaking, and removes the rag from your neck. It had long since gone cold and wasn’t doing anything. And it could make it worse. 

The two of you fall into that rhythm for some time, he talks about random topics during the commercial breaks and you listen with half-lidded eyes. The warmth from the soup already making you feel good enough to take a nap without the worry that you’re going to cough yourself to death.

With the soup and bread gone, he hands you the pill and your cup of tea. This time, he lets you drink on your own and you swallow the pill with the tea as a chaser. He checks, making sure you didn’t slip the pill under your tongue before he nods, confirming to you that you had, in fact, swallowed the pill. 

“Time for bed,” He says, standing to clean up the items. For now, he’ll just place them into the sink. That’s an issue for tomorrow Jaime. 

“Stay with me?” You ask when he walks back around the couch. 

“Of course, baby.” He grins, kissing your forehead before he picks you up. God, you love having a superhero boyfriend who can lift a semi-truck with one arm. Holding his neck, you sigh and lay your head on his chest. 

When he sets you down on your shared bed, you don’t let go of his shirt, too afraid he’s going to leave. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promises, squeezing your hand before moving across the room to dig inside one of the drawers. You know what’s coming and work on taking your shirt off. When he turns around with a Vicks VapoRub jar in hand, you’re sure that he’s truly becoming his parents. 

Sniffling, he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and carefully rubs it along your chest. He works in small circles, humming along to the theme song he’d always hear whenever he was sick. When he’s done, he caps the bottle and sets it on the nightstand before going to turn off the lights. You lay on your side, a towel on your pillow to collect any snot that comes out while you’re sleeping. 

“Get some rest, okay?” The bed dips as he crawls in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Mhmm, ‘m tryi’g.” You respond, holding his hand while your eyes slowly close. He kisses your shoulder before he gets comfortable himself. 

“Night, Jai.” 

“Goodnight, mi amor,”

[littlespacereader]

Nb reader had beginning to have accidents so Steve Rogers comeforts them and helped them clean up

Such an adorable concept! I haven’t written for Steve Rogers in such a long time so when I first tackled this I had a bit of writers block. Thankfully I reworked it a bit and I think it came out so cute!! I really hope you enjoy this! Thank you for the request!

Summer in Brooklyn☀️����

Caregiver! Steve Rogers & GN! Little Reader (SFW!)

Tags - Summertime fun, bathing suits & sprinklers, Bucky & Sam mentioned, accident, pull-ups, forehead kisses, cuddles and hugs

It’s a warm summer day in Brooklyn! Finally the weather matched the season and everyone on the block was outside having fun!

The same could be said for Steve and Y/N who played together in their small backyard. Steve sat on a lawn chair watching Y/N run up and down through the sprinkler Bucky had brought a day prior.

It has become an afternoon routine of Steve and Y/N’s to get changed into their bathing suits and play a little game of tag around the backyard while the sprinkler sprayed them.

Today was an especially hot day in their small backyard. To make sure his little one didn’t get a heat stroke, Steve made sure they had plenty of juice and some ice pops here and there to counteract the crazy temperatures.

As the day went on, he could see his little one start to get more and more tired. There was nothing like a nap after playing in the water all day.

“Alright Y/N, let’s head in.” Steve stood up.

“Nooooooooowwwwaaaa.” Y/N whined behind him as he turned off the hose to the sprinkler. They were currently sitting in a puddle, playing with their zoo animal figures, splashing then into the puddle below.

“We’ll play tomorrow I promise. It’s just getting late and I need to get started on some dinner.” Steve explained, without the added part of a nap. That would come later.

Y/N sighed but nodded their head as the stoop up and walked over to Steve. But there was just one problem…there were no towels outside.

“Huh? Guess Papa forgot the towels upstairs.” Steve said more to himself than Y/N.

Y/N was holding their arms close. Being out of the sun and soaking wet was making them start to shiver. “Cold Papa.” They said softly,

“Here,” Steve took his shirt off and placed it over their head. Because of his tall stature the shirt was almost like a dress on Y/N. “There you go.” Steve smiled, “That will keep you warm till I grab the towel.”

While it wasn’t the warmest, Y/N wrapped their arms around the shirt and smiled. They always loved when they got a piece of clothing from their Cg. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome sweetheart. Now let’s go inside and get some towels.” Hand in hand, Steve and Y/N stepped back into the house.

Steve wasn’t wet at all. After sitting in the sun he had dried out. Y/N on the other hand was still wet head to toe. Steve had Y/N stand on a mar by the back door.

“Here sweetheart, you stay here so we’re not tracking so much water through the house and I’ll run upstairs and grab some towels okay?”

Y/N smiled and nod their head yes. Steve smiled back, placing a small kiss to their head before heading to the stairs.

~~~

Only issue is…Y/N was still cold. They held their new shirt close to them and crossed their arms infront. Papa said he wasn’t going to be long, just grabbing towels.

But with the cold making them shiver slightly, another issue came to the surface…they needed to use the potty.

The bathroom on the first floor was on the opposite side of the house. Papa said to stay on the mat so they wouldn’t track water through the house but…how much longer was he going to be? They didn’t want to track water but they had to go potty badly.

Maybe Papa would be back soon, maybe they could hold it, they reasoned with themselves. But as the seconds ticked away. They could feel their grip slipping.

But just then they heard Papa coming down the stairs!

~~~

Steve walked down the stairs, clothes and towels in hand, “I’m sorry I took so long bug. I figured I get all of your supplies and clothes from upstairs so you wouldn’t have to-.”

Steve trailed off as his eyes met with Y/N’s form. Small trickle down their leg and a puddle beneath gave away their accident. They looked up at him with tears in their eyes. “Y-You said, no move.” They explained with a little sniffle and a tear falling from their eye.

This is the second time his little one has had an accident. The first was during a thunderstorm last week. One loud crash had Y/N running to Steve in wet pajamas.

At first Steve and even Y/N, thought it was a one off thing…until today. But Steve had already had a conversation with Y/N about this the first time it happened. Accidents were okay, and didn’t define them and their regression. He was more than willing to help his little one.

“Oh Y/N,” He walked over and brought them close, pulling them into a hug. “I am so sorry. This accident is my fault. I should’ve checked in with you earlier to see if you needed to go potty.”

Once they broke apart Steve picked his little one up, though they protested. “No! Icky!”

“It’s okay, Papa needs to get changed too. I don’t mind. Right now let’s worry about getting you changed.” Steve reassured. Y/N looked as though they were going to say something but settled for hiding their head in his shoulder.

Steve carried them into the bathroom, closing the door behind them and settle his little one down on the toilet cover.

As he organized everything a small sniffle came from the opposite end of the bathroom, “Papa i sworry.” Y/N said, tears falling from their eyes.

Steve immediately stopped what he was doing and went over to his little one. He places a soft hand on their shoulder, “Y/N what happened is nothing you need to apologize for. What did I tell you when you had your first accident last week?”

“Accidents are ‘kay.”

“That’s right. You know accidents are okay. This one is on me. I should’ve kept a better eye on your juice intake.” Steve sighed to himself. “But having an accident doesn’t mean anything bad. Sometimes our bodies just don’t realize what we need to do in time and that’s okay. Everyone’s body works differently.” He began to explain getting a small nod from Y/N.

“We’re going to clean you up, and get you into some comfy pajamas for the night. Then you can help Papa cook dinner. How does that sound?”

Y/N nodded, a small smile returning to their face. “Accident okay?” They asked one last time.

“Yes sweetheart, accidents are okay.” Steve smiled back. “Now, let’s get this little rascal dried off before you catch a cold.” That got Steve a small giggle from Y/N.

First he helped wash and dry his little one off. But before he went a step further he paused and turned to them for guidance. “Now I know this was just an accident, but do you want to wear some protection? It’s your choice bug. I won’t be mad if you say no.”

Steve watched as his little one stopped and thought long and hard about it. But after a moment they pointed to the pull-up then they put their thumb in their mouth.

“Good choice sweetheart.” Steve smiled. After that it was just getting them changed into a fresh pull-up and warm pajamas.

Once done, Steve also changed out of his wet clothes and into more comfier clothes for the evening. “There we are,” he said as he lifted Y/N into his arms. “All nice and dry.”

By now Y/N was loosing the battle to stay awake, the long but fun filled day catching up with them. Steve walked back into the living room, grabbing their pacifier off the end table and replacing their thumb with it. “There we go, much better.”

Y/N nodded snuggling closer to Steve. Steve knew that there was no way Y/N was going to let him put them down for a nap. But he did know they would fall asleep in his arms. The solution? Send a quick text to Sam and ask if he can pop over and help out dinner.

With the text sent, Steve walked over to the couch and plopped down onto it, Y/N still half asleep in his arms. He rubbed their back up and down as their head rested soundly in his shoulder.

Before they really drifted off he managed to hear them say, “Papa best.”

Steve chuckled, moving to place a small kiss to the top of their head, “I’m only the best because I have the best little in the whole wide world.”

Accidents will happen, floors and clothes can be cleaned, but what will stay forever is the trust and love between Steve and Y/N.

[twost3ps]

Mmnnn I’m thinking of redesigning my Michael won’t really commit tho so crack idea lol

Anyways I wanna make him blind

So tw gore

So like, maybe he got blind because of Lucifer and stuff. When the first rebellion happened and it was the angels vs the fallen so Michael vs Lucifer and stuff Michael cuts Lucifer in half (if that’s from somewhere idk when) but that’s like Lucifer’s bottom half is cut off (That’s also why’s he’s short, he never got that bottom half back) I think that’s paradise lost ref but yeah. It’s a shock to everyone because it’s the first any angel has actually been harmed and mikes staring like wtf in horror as Lucifer grovels and stuff but Lucifer kinda gets his bearings and manages to pluck out Mikes eyes in his rage and the fight carries on and stuff. Mike and Lucifer and fighting on raw adrenaline

Ik crazy sibling fighting (they make up for it but that’s like faaarrrr faaarrrr future and very circumstantial so okay they might not but wtvr)

Anyways after the battle and they send the fallen to hell and stuff, Mike gets back his eyes somehow and the rest of the archangels are wtf. It’s gross and scary ofc. So later Raphael and Uriel work together to try and give Mike his eyes back but no they can’t get back in there so they make glasses from mikes eyes so that he can see again. He can’t see without them lol, but his senses are enhanced w/o his sight so think like toph from avatar but he can also feel the air around him move as well and smell people so yeah.

As time goes on he looks like this (long hairs Mike has grown on me)

So justice is now fucking blind. His glasses have those eyes things yea. If I do stick to this redesign I wanna make him a bit more metal. I was thinking about my enabler Michael post and how he was supposed to be a rocker a bit. His military uniform is studded too maybe

Other than give him sight, his glasses also shield his eyes from people looking at them. It’s like staring into an endless pit and if people look at it too long they feel guilty and compelled to confess crap. It’s weird and very mind boggling for anyone who sees under the glasses so he rather not take them off. Pitch black and freaky and it looks really off since he is an angel.

Ig this is also a reworking cuz if I commit he’d be a bit more crass and subtly rude. Def an enabler or sumn.

I wanted to give him a walking cane that could change into a sword but idk if that’s insensitive or offensive so idk. He’s still bitter from the eye thing so he def talks mad shit (subtly) about Lucifer . I wouldn’t say Mike is evil but he’s def manipulative. The things he does are in the name of justice and to the benefit of those he cares about (heaven and stuff) but it can be a bit scummy

I’m not sure if I’ll commit to this revamp tho so yea. Maybe he’d be a separate Mike or the enabler Michael I was thinking about idk tho lol

[war-forged-storms]

(On Anon because my horny blog is a sideblog) I think, being a dom with a fairly popular bog, you're a good person to ask this: I am quiet in bed. I don't even breathe or pant very loudly, I rarely moan or whimper or make any fun noises people write about and gush about and record for later.

Are there people who like quiet partners? Is there a way to make being quiet seem sexier?

Thank you for your time, sir.

Hi!!! So to answer your question shortly, yes! There are absolutely people who enjoy quiet partners! I personally am not the loudest when it comes to sex (the noises I make aren’t always very stereotypical sounding, and I refuse to fake anything that has to do with sex lmao, so sometimes I’ll just stay quiet if I’m not comfortable to make noise yet) but there’s 1. Nothing wrong with not making a lot of noise, and 2. There’s a lot of ways to play into it, and other things you can do not related to those noises that you can do to kinda replace the “purpose” of noises during sex (purpose being that it demonstrates that you are being pleasured.)

So what you can do is based in your personal preferences during sex. Personally, I like talking, doesn’t even necessarily need to be very explicit, just saying if something feels good, bad, I want them to do it again, etc. Usually this helps fulfil the praise that making noise can give partners. More than that, sometimes it helps, uh, make more noises happen because I get distracted or caught off guard trying to speak and I just…get into it lol. Maybe that’s something that’ll happen with you too, but everyone’s different.

Something else could be to be gagged to relieve the stress of feeling like you need to make noise, it can be freeing to feel like you don’t have to focus on that and you and your partner can focus on your non auditory tells of what makes you feel good. And over time, if you start to notice you do something more as a tell (like if your legs shake or something like that) and start to point attention to that rather than sounds, like instead of “I love hearing you moan.” Saying “i love seeing you shake” (which might help you start doing those things more, and you can use those things in place of the sexiness of moaning), you might find those tells are hotter to you than sounds ever could be.

I know this is like, very vague advice, but I think honestly working with your partners, figuring out what you enjoy, and finding things to focus on during your sex in place of making noise will help rework in your mind what your “sexually pleasured” reactions are. Your focus should be less on the thought that no noise is unsexy, but rather what the sexy purpose noise has in sex, and finding ways that replace that purpose.

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you all for being patient with me. We need to develop this plot, so let's all buckle up.

Warnings: Nothing wild here. Testosterone being tossed around.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 9 - First Time

One Month Later

Normal is a relative term, isn’t it? By definition, it means conforming to a standard. Therefore, my life was getting into a sense of normalcy, as I was forcing it to.

I couldn’t handle the heartbreak anymore. It was too painful to allow myself to continue to sulk. Every time she left, anytime we said goodbye, my soul folded in on itself more and more. Is it going to stop hurting just because I want it to? No. Can I allow myself to move on? I think so.

One hundred and eighteen days since she ended things. My world fell apart, but I only have to wait so long before I start trying to put it back together. I’m encouraged to move forward. I’m told to let myself heal. And I think maybe it’s time.

Thirty-six days since Mileena and I recovered from the stomach flu, and our safe bubble was burst. We haven’t kissed, fucked, or had any above mildly flirtatious contact since.

We’re still close, and we still talk every day - sometimes for hours, but I’ve put up a silent barrier between us. Continuing to allow the physical affection was only making it harder for both of us. And I’ve learned, through months of dealing with this, that she has little to no control.

She’s still seeing Justin, which stings in ways I can’t even begin to explain, but I’ve swallowed it. Leena seems to have taken to him, which makes me happy. Although I never expected to feel that way, I do. Seeing her smile, and seeing her joy has brought a sense of calm to my soul, even if I’m not the person lighting that fire inside her.

Maybe I’m moving on.

Today, I was awake early, driving to the guys’ place, anxious and excited all at once.

Today was album completion day. After hours on hours of sitting with Jolly in the studio, rewriting lyrics, re-recording vocals, and reworking the instrumentals, it was finally ready.

Today, at 9AM, the album was due to Sumerian. We were going to send it at 8AM, the email already drafted and all of the files attached. It was a big moment, and we were ecstatic. The amount of work that had gone into this album made Death of Peace of Mind look like child’s play. We were all so ready to be moving to the next stage - preparing for release.

I pulled into the driveway, and noticed the amount of vehicles. I, clearly, wasn’t the only one there.

Just inside the front door, I kicked my boots off and made my way toward the living room, already hearing many conversations ongoing. Just inside the foyer, I could see Nick and Laura, enthralled in whatever conversation they were having. Jolly was sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, surely checking the email again to make sure all of the attachments were sound, and nothing had been forgotten.

In the back corner of the room, Folio stood by the fireplace, mid-conversation with Leena, who was holding Addison on her hip.

“Well, hello family!”

Everyone’s eyes flashed to me, smiles breaking out on everyone’s faces.

“There he is!” Nick walked over and clapped my shoulder. “Cant believe you’re the last one here!”

I shook my head. “Traffic was rough this morning.”

I gave him and Laura welcoming hugs, and made my way over to Leena and Addison.

“There’s my girls.” I gave Mileena a one-armed hug, and took Addie from her, squeezing her tight.

“Are you excited?” Leena was beaming at me, something like pride on her face.

“Excited and anxious. I’ll be glad once it’s out of our hands.”

Folio snorted next to me. “Yeah, so you can’t fuck with it anymore.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “It’s not fucking with it. It’s perfecting.”

He reached over, slipping Addie from my arms. “Well, go check on Jolly. He hasn’t spoken in twenty minutes.”

I padded over to the couch and flopped down. “All good here?”

He nodded, reopening the email. “I think so. Everything’s working. Cover art and back art is there. Lyric docs are attached. I think we’re all set. Bryan is going to forward in the pictures for the social media announcements. And Matt’s working on the details for the release party already.”

I nodded. “We don’t know how long?”

Jolly shrugged. “Three months, maybe? Slaughter is releasing their album next month, but then Alec told me it’s pretty clear until November. We’re likely shooting for a fall release.”

“Oh sweet. We can start touring in spring, maybe?”

Jolly smiled and leaned back. “I fucking hope so man. We’ve been getting a lot of heat for not hitting Australia on the last tour. Or Asia.”

“Maybe we start there?”

I could feel eyes burning into the side of my head, Mileena standing close enough to hear our conversation, but I ignored them.

“Festival season is in the spring and summer, so maybe we start with that? And work our way out?”

I huffed, and let my eyes drift over to Leena, who had a sad expression on her face that she wasn’t hiding well. “We’ll let Matt and Lana work it out.”

“Two minutes, guys.” Nick called from across the coffee table.

Folio came and plopped next to me. Nick sat next to Jolly, Laura perched on one of his knees. Leena sat, Addie in her lap, on the arm of the couch.

Jolly’s finger hovered over the ‘Send’ button, and we all held our breath.

“As always, I would like to just say, you guys are the best. We have worked our asses off for this, and if we receive even half of the success as Death of Peace of Mind, we’re lucky. We’re lucky to do what we love, and do it well.” I spoke to the entire room. To my brothers.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Folio announced, and the clock struck 8:30, Jolly clicking the mouse.

A second of silence fell over us, until the confirmation that it was sent popped on the screen.

We all broke out in celebratory hollers and clapping.

“Fuck yeah! We fucking did it!” Nick exclaimed, patting Jolly’s shoulder.

“You guys are awesome, you know that?” Laura smiled at us all.

“We need to celebrate!” Folio stood up suddenly, all of our eyes snapping up to him. “Let’s call Matt, Bryan, Lana, and Davis, and let’s go fucking celebrate!”

“Uh, dude…it’s not even 9AM…” I was smirking at him.

“It doesn’t have to be a party.” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “Let’s go ride fucking roller coasters!”

Nick, Jolly, and myself all stood up, affirming our excitement at once.

“That’s fucking awesome! Let’s do it!” Nick was still holding onto Laura. “You’ll come?”

She smiled wide. “Blocked my whole day for you, babe. I’m down.”

Nick glanced at Leena. “You too?”

She seemed to hesitate, her eyes looking over to me. “I, uh, might need to pass.” She chewed her lip. “Addie and I had plans today.”

“So…cancel them?” Jolly interjected.

“We were supposed to meet with Justin.”

I scoffed. “So bring him?” Her eyes widened in surprise at me. Valid, given I was mildly surprised at myself as well. “Unless, of course, he’s too scared…”

-

The drive to Knott's Berry Farm was quicker than I expected. Folio and I rode in my truck with Addison, Nick and Laura were in her car, Bryan and Matt were picking up Davis and Lana, and Mileena would be meeting us in about an hour after she picked up Justin. As we turned right off of La Palma onto Beach Boulevard, the traffic came to a dead stop. The turn-in to Knott's toward the parking lot was packed.

"Is something going on today?"

I shrugged. "No idea. We got here early, so I didn't think it would be too packed for a Thursday." I glanced at the dash. "It's only noon."

He rolled his window down, leaning his body out of the window, and waving at a security guard who was directing traffic.

"Hey," The guard walked over to my car. "is there a reason it's so busy?"

The guard stood with his hands on his belt, and glanced down to the line of cars.

"The concert today. It doesn't start until 6, but folks want to get in early."

Folio raised an eyebrow, dropping back into the vehicle. "Concert?" He pulled his phone out and opened his browser. After a moment of searching, he smiled. "Oh dope, dude! There's three bands playing today!"

I was pulling toward the parking lot now, waiting for my turn to pay at the stall. "Which ones?"

"Skillet, Daughtry, and Lifehouse."

I nodded in surprise. "That's fucking cool, man. We picked a good day to come."

Once we had all parked, I was pushing the stroller with Addison squealing excitedly. We all talked about which rides we were hitting first.

"Dude, we can't just start with the biggest ones. We've got to warm up." Nick was trying to reason with Folio, who looked as though he was crawling right out of his skin.

"Bro, I am riding the Xcelerator first, and you can't fucking stop me."

I chuckled. "I'm so in on that, man."

Laura reached for the stroller, taking it from me easily. "That's fine. You and Folio go get your adrenaline rush. Addie and I will be waiting for Leena in Camp Snoopy."

I bent down to kiss Addie's nose as she munched on her cotton candy, making an absolute mess. "You be good for Auntie, baby girl."

She blew a bubble in response.

Folio and I practically sprinted to the line for the roller coaster, only being a few dozen people back. He immediately hopped up onto the railing, smiling wide.

"So excited. I haven't been here since I was a kid."

I nodded. "Leena and I came like...three months after we met? She likes to act like she loves roller coasters, but in reality, she only rides the mellow ones."

He giggled. "She always talks such a big game, dude."

"Fucking honestly. She's as human as the rest of us, contrary to popular belief."

He nodded, jumping down to move with the line. "You going to be good with her bringing Justin?"

I perused this a moment. "I think so. I've had some time to adjust."

He looked at me suspiciously. "Have you been adjusting? You and Leena seem to be pretty...I don't know...weird?"

Leaning against the rail, I crossed my arms and looked at him. "Weird like how?"

"Well, let's see," Folio turned to face his body toward me. "you break up, when clearly neither of you wanted to do that. You both get majorly depressed for a while. Then you have an outburst at the 4th party, where you both disappear for half an hour." He raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "Then you flirt all the time, and both get sick at the same time, hiding out for three days together, where neither of you will talk about what happened." I chewed on my bottom lip. "Now you guys just stare longingly at each other from across rooms, and act like everything's okay." We moved forward with the line.

"Oh, and not to mention that she has a boyfriend."

Thanks for that, Folio.

"Doesn't seem very adjusted."

I scoffed. "Well, I didn't realize I came today to get attacked, but alright."

He chuckled at me, smacking my shoulder. "I'm just asking. I'm not sure any of us really get why you two aren't just...together...."

I shrugged, then. "That was her decision."

He cocked his head. "But why?"

I sighed hard, arms still crossed. "She can't handle it, dude. The," I waved my hand around us. "Bad Omens, rock and roll, touring thing."

Folio looked interested. "No?"

Shaking my head, I noticed we were getting closer to the front. "Nope. And that's my life."

"Can't her and Addison come on tour?"

"Man, I wish. I've even tried to convince her too, but having a toddler on a tour bus wouldn't work, and even I know that."

He looked disappointed. "Fuck, man."

"Yeah, I know." Huffing out a weak laugh, I rubbed the back of my neck. "I even offered to quit. Just write and produce so I wouldn't have to tour."

"You couldn't do that, dude. You love this shit."

I nodded, and looked directly at him. "I know, but I love them more."

Folio and I were walking over to Camp Snoopy, where everyone had convened after riding their respective rides. I caught a glimpse of Mileena sat at a picnic table, surrounded by everyone, feeding Addison in the stroller. Before I even reached the group, I noticed it.

Everyone was speaking, laughing together. Justin was stood talking to Davis, talking about something with his hands, and Davis was definitely into the story. The entire group was engaged in some form of conversation, looking excited and lighthearted. Everyone, except Mileena.

She was handing Addison her snacks, back turned to the group, and a look of frustration on her face.

We approached them, everyone turning their attention to us.

"How was it?" Nick chirped up from behind Laura.

"Fucking rush. So much fun." Folio responded, coming to sit next to Leena, and grabbing the snacks from her. Leena smiled at him as he started talking to Addie, handing her the puffs from the bag. If anyone bonded with the baby the most, to everyone's surprise, it was Folio.

I stepped over to stand in front of Leena, staring down at her. I lowered my eyes so I was looking directly at her. I gave her the look; the one that she knew asked if she was alright. She just pursed her lips, and nodded curtly.

I glanced back over to where Justin was still talking to Davis, Jolly now having joined the conversation.

I smiled down at Leena. "Want to come with me to grab a soda?"

Her eyes drifted over to Justin, who was paying her no mind, and stood up.

"You okay with her for a minute?" Folio just nodded to her in response.

She followed behind me as I made my way toward the Calico Ghost Town, and the snack shops they had nearby. We joined the long line, and I turned to look at her.

"What's going on?"

She sighed. "Nothing, just wanted to be here a lot sooner."

"Everything okay with you two?"

She looked at me, her eyes hesitant, but I could see that she wanted to tell me.

I held my hands up. "Safe space, here."

Leaning her head back, she groaned. "He's irritating me."

"How so?"

"He's pissed that I wanted to come here. We had plans to get lunch, and take Addie to the park. I explained that today was a big deal, but he told me he didn't see why I had to come."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ah, okay. Makes sense."

"No, it doesn't. He knows that I'm close with all of the guys, not just you. But he still gets so fucking weird about it." Her voice was full of annoyance, which amused me.

"I mean..." I calculated my words. "Can you blame the guy?"

Her head snapped toward me. "What?"

Laughing, I took a step away from her. "Leena, I am your ex. We spend an awful lot of time together."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "We have a kid together, Noah."

I nodded. "I get that. I'm just saying, he probably has pretty good reason to be skeptical."

She huffed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know. I just," Taking a slow breath, she calmed herself. "if him and I are going to make it work, he's going to have to understand. You guys are my family."

I let my arms reach for her, pulling her into a comfortable hug. "I know. And if he really likes you, he'll figure it out."

The day passed comfortably, the warm sun baking us while we waited in lines, played games, and ate funnel cakes. Mileena passed on the bigger coasters, as I had expected. Laura and I rode the Jaguar six times in a row, nearly toppling over from lightheadedness after the last ride.

Justin and I didn't speak much, only in passing comments and niceties. It was easier that way.

By 5PM, we started to see the signs go up for the concert, so we decided to head over to the stage area, tucked behind the Ghost Rider, in an attempt to get decent seats. We found a table big enough for everyone - with the exception of Matt and Lana, who insisted they be at the front - and got comfortable.

Addison had been sleeping for about an hour, and I had pulled her from the stroller, cradling her to my chest against my sweatshirt, so I could try and shield her ears some from the music. I stood at the end of the table, swaying her back and forth, Mileena sitting next to where I stood, chatting idly with Laura about the day.

I felt a bump to my elbow, and looked to my right, seeing Justin standing next to me, large beer in his hand.

I nodded toward him. "What's up, man?"

My hand was rubbing circles on Addison's back, my knees bouncing gently.

"Could I borrow you for a minute?"

Looking at him curiously, I tried to gauge his intentions. I had kept a good enough distance from Leena for the day, in an attempt to not stir any drama.

"Uh, one sec." I turned, motioning with my chin for Folio to come over. "Can you take her for a minute?"

He just peeled her off of me, repositioning her on his chest. This caught Mileena's attention, who had a concerned look on her face as I began following Justin to where he stood a few feet away. I flashed her a small smile for reassurance.

The opening riffs to Skillet's first song caught my attention for a split second before I turned my attention back to Justin.

"What's going on?"

He took a long pull from his beer, and I noted that it wasn't the first he had that night. "I just wanted to chat with you. Hadn't had much chance to talk today." He snorted then. "Or...ever, really."

I laughed, putting my hands in my sweater pocket. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Congrats on finishing the album, man."

I nodded. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

We both looked over to the stage, taking a second to listen to the song. Comatose. A good one.

"So, can I ask you something? Man to man?"

I turned back to look at him, shrugging. "Go for it."

"Are you fucking Mileena?"

This caught me wildly off guard, making me lean back on my heels, eyes blown wide.

"Excuse me?"

"Cause you two seem a little more comfortable than typical exes."

My mouth was hanging open, my brain scrambled. "Dude..."

"If you are, I guess it's whatever. We never made anything exclusive." His words didn't match his tone at all, which told me if I didn't give the right answer, he would probably put a fist straight into my mouth.

As tempting as that was...

"No, man, we're not sleeping together." I waved a hand in between us, shaking my head. "We're not like that."

"Anymore." He added on.

"Well," I glanced back at Leena, who was watching the concert from her seat. "clearly. We do have a kid together."

He smiled at me then, his eyes darkening. The look made my stomach turn.

"She's great in bed, isn't she?"

My blood turned to ice, and my spine involuntarily straightened. I may be moving on, but I'm still a human being. I can only tolerate so much, and he was testing my fucking limit.

Before I could respond, he decided to continue. "I can't imagine how you ever let go of that, brother. She's fucking wild."

I ground my teeth together, jaw clicking in the process. My hands were balled into fists at my side.

"Let's not." Was all I could get out.

He scoffed. "Oh come on, it's not like we haven't both been there."

The eyes staring back at me were malicious. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A hot, angry fire lit in my chest, screaming at me to rip this jackass' tongue straight out of his mouth, but I didn't. Instead, I returned his smile with my own, venomous and rage-induced.

"I mean, I guess you have a point." He raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting my response. "There is a small difference, though."

He took another chug from his cup, wiping his mouth. "What's that?"

I licked my lips, glancing around to ensure no one was around.

"You get to fuck her, right?" He just nodded in response. "She begged me to fuck her."

I watched his smile fall, his eyes squinting and chest puffing out. "Oh yeah?"

I let my shoulders roll back easily. "Yeah. So," I leaned in, making sure he could hear me clearly. "that girl over there, regardless of if she's riding your cock, or any other douchebag's, belongs to me."

I could see his jaw tighten. I turned my body to walk away, leaving him with one last comment.

"And I'll just warn you now," I looked him up and down. "you're just temporary. May want to wrap your head around that."

With that, I walked away. It wasn't my proudest moment, I'll admit, but I didn't care. I held my head high as I walked back to the table, and took my daughter from Folio, bobbing to the music while she slept soundly in my arms.

Mileena and Justin had disappeared shortly after our talk, which didn't surprise me. I didn't see them through the rest of Skillet's set, and Lifehouse was due to come out after the intermission. I had handed Addie to Laura, taking a few minutes to run to the restrooms and grab a pretzel. I waited in line at the snack stand, scrolling through the photos I had taken on my phone that day, when I felt a hard slap come across my left shoulder.

I looked over, seeing a tearful Leena, face red with anger. "What the fuck did you say to him?!"

My eyes panned around, seeing all of the eyes staring at us.

"C'mon." I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the line, but as soon as we were alone, she squirmed out of my grip.

"Seriously, Noah! What did you say?! He fucking left!"

I rolled my eyes at that. "I didn't say anything he didn't need to hear."

She deadpanned at me. "Which was what?"

Sighing, I adjusted my hat, turning it backwards on my head. "The guy's a dick, Leena. He wanted to talk about how you are in bed with me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I just made it clear that wasn't a good idea."

She narrowed her eyes. "He told me you said we were still sleeping together."

I shook my head. "Nope. I actually told him that we weren't."

"Noah, what did you say?"

After several attempts of trying to give her the cliffnotes version, she finally snapped and demanded to know what I said, verbatim.

Once I told her, I thought the big vein in her neck was going to explode all over both of us.

"What the fuck, Noah?!"

I kept my voice even. "I love how you're only mad at me, when he wanted to antagonize me, while also being halfway drunk." I threw my hands up. "On a day that's about my band, to begin with." I smirked, annoyed, and put my hands in my pockets. "Guy's got some fucking balls, I'll give him that."

Leena shook her head. "I am mad at him. But I'm more mad at you."

My face held an amused, bewildered look. "Make it make sense?"

She rolled her eyes. "Noah, you were the one who reasoned that he had a right to be uncomfortable."

"Oh, well let me be clear - I hereby retract that statement. Guy's a douche." I nodded at her to emphasize each word.

She groaned, and rubbed a hand over her face.

"The fuck am I going to do?"

I snorted. "That's on you, dude." She glared at me. "But my two cents? Break it off. He's an ass." And with that, I walked away from her, leaving her to stare after me with an exasperated look on her face.

Lifehouse finished, but my mood was dead. I had no interest in staying for Daughtry. I was so beyond annoyed by this entire situation, that I elected to leave early.

I offered to take Addison, but Mileena assured that she would take her until my regular day. Rather than argue, I just said my goodbyes to everyone, and headed for the entrance of the park.

My irritation grew the further out I got, and was at a full blown rage by the time I reached my truck, my fist landing on the door.

How could she? This muscled-up dirtbag comes in, pisses her off, and then has the audacity to try and talk shop with me, about her, and she's mad at me? Where is the fucking math on that? What did I fucking miss?

I had been so God damn tolerant. So patient. I had taken the mixed fucking signals, the back and forth emotions, the wanting me one second, and treating me like the outlier the next. I had taken it all on the chin. I'd sat there and watched her be in a new relationship, ignoring how painful that is. Moving on before my very eyes.

And all for...what? For going on tour? For leaving her alone? For admitting that I'm a human fucking being and pictured another woman naked? That for a split fucking second, I considered sleeping with her? For which I then beat myself up and felt guilty as fuck afterwards?!

I was done. Done being patient. Done being the bigger person. I got the fucked end of the stick this entire time, and now she's mad at me?

I sped down the highway, no regard for the limit, zooming toward my house so I could be alone. She ruined this day, and I was fucking over it.

It only took me twenty-five minutes before I was pulled up to my gate, noticing a sedan parked on the street outside of it with it's headlights on. This caught my attention, as it was a vehicle I didn't recognize.

I swiped in, and saw the sedan following me through the gate. This had me on guard, my eyes watching my rearview mirror as the car stopped behind my truck. I was too keyed up, willing to fuck up anyone who tried me at this moment.

Jumping out of my struck, I slammed the door behind me and walked toward the vehicle. The driver's door opened, and a small man, slightly hunched over, stepped out. He wore a lanyard around his neck with some form of ID, and held a manila envelope in his hands.

"This is private property." Was all I said before he walked up to me, a kind smile on his face.

"Noah Davis?"

I scrunched my nose. "Who's asking?"

He looked down at his papers and back up to me. "My name is Leonard James. Are you Noah Davis?"

I crossed my arms. "Sebastian."

He adjusted his glasses. "Oh, I apologize sir. I see that here. Noah Sebastian Davis?"

I rolled my eyes. "My government name, sure. Who are you?"

He handed me the envelope, still smiling at me.

"You've been served."

[lornaka]

Thoughts on Ventress returning?

I’m ecstatic. I always absolutely despised the way they did her dirty in Dark Disciple, after everything she went through she deserved better than to get killed by her abuser for the sake of a man and his manpain. I’d have preferred for that whole book to be retconned tbh but since they already confirmed the show is staying faithful to the events of the book as canon, I’ll gladly take Ventress somehow returning to life after the events of DD.

I was made aware yesterday that they apparently planned to bring her back for a while, maybe even back when they first planned that unproduced TCW arc that later was reworked into the DD novel. Something about them considering bringing her back in the Resistance cartoon but in the end Filoni decided not to (and I’m personally selfishly glad they didn’t, I’m not a fan of that show’s writing and overall have no interest in the st era). But idk.

I hope she outlives everyone. And I hope she visits Obi-Wan on Tatooine for tea and to make fun of him, and that’s the maximum dose of Jedi drama she has to put up with ever again.

[dalamjisung]

Matching Set Masterlist

college!AU

popular!jeongin x introvert!reader

summary: Y/N and Jeongin had been together since birth. Seriously since birth– their mothers were best friends and while hanging out to complain about their never ending pregnancy, bam. Rumor has it that Y/N took a little while to cry, blinking around for a couple of minutes until the gentlest of screams came out of her tiny body. Only later, when the parents got together to congratulate each other, did the mothers found out that Jeongin had been born five minutes before Y/N, and it seemed that her quietness had been her own early way to wait for who would later be her best friend. And as if sharing a birthday wasn’t enough, these two had to share everything else; from their lunch at school to the bed they slept on. Thankfully, as next door neighbors, the trip was minimal.

It continued like this for decades to come, through middle school, high school, and finally, college. Their applications were sent together and their letters came in the same day. Miraculously, they chose different degrees, and for an entire night, Y/N cried to her mom about losing her best friend. Maybe this will be a good experience for you two, she laughed, petting her daughter’s head. But Y/N just couldn’t see a positive side to being without her Innie. Later, they would make a pact– one that vowed to always be there for each other. And he looked so earnest and honest that Y/N just couldn’t understand where that nagging doubt tugging on her heart was coming from…

What happens when these two experience freedom like nothing they’ve ever seen? And what will be of the matching set when they are put apart? Can the lifelong friendship survive the ultimate test of time– college?

update schedule: Every Sunday :D

——————————————————————————————

🌚 chapter one: hyung I’m suing you

🌝 chapter two: fellow clowns

🌚 chapter three: what bothers you, my little freeloader?

🌝 chapter four: forgiven but not forgotten

🌚 chapter five: she doesn’t need me anymore

🌝 chapter six: Mandatory Movie Marathon™️

🌚 chapter seven: delayed reactions

🌝 chapter eight: no turning back

🌚 chapter nine: things are about to change

🌝 chapter ten: another case of innie being innie

🌚 chapter eleven: see you then

🌝 chapter twelve: it’s a date

🌚 chapter thirteen: we need to talk about yesterday

🌝 chapter fourteen

🌚 chapter fifteen 

🌝 chapter sixteen

——————————————————————————————

hi lovelies! I know I have been a bit gone from the fake text scene, but I’ve been working on this for a bit now, and I am really, really excited to share this new story with you all! Han’s story will be going into HIATUS as I’m trying to sort the overall plot and details and will be reworking it after I get my muse back fro Rhythm & Rhyme. Also: there are timeline plot-holes and for that I apologize! Because it’s been a while since I wrote these, there was a mixup with the timeline of all the following stories, so truly, I am sorry-- I’ll do my best to keep everything together neat and tight! Thank you for your love and constant support!

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET TAGGED FOR THE RELEASE OF MATCHING SET PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I’LL START A TAGLIST!

[cupcakeslushie]

How much of a perfectionist are you, when it comes to your own art or writing? If you're not completely happy with a piece, do you still post it, or do you scrap/rework it?

Good question!

I think it depends on what it is. For my EW comic, I take a lot of pride in that, so I tend to be kinda meticulous, and probably cause I stare at those pages for weeks, I just have more time to see the things that need to be fixed and re-worked. For commissions, that’s probably when I am like max perfectionist mode, cause I really want ppl to be 100% happy with what they get. If they want changes, I’m happy to make them.

But for the most part, my style is kinda messy anyway, so I’m never usually too fussy with the fun stuff. I work fast, and post like 99.9% of what I make immediately, and if, later, I notice something’s off, I’ll just edit it quietly, or leave it—things like that definitely don’t haunt me. (No I’m not still thinking about how I forgot to color the tip of Gemini Donnie’s tail for Kay’s DTIYS)

Having ADHD you just kinda learn that if you wait around for perfection, you’re never going to accomplish anything. If Shia Leboeuf was ever right about one thing—just do it. Get stuff out. If you make like 100 pieces of work, and like maybe 20% is crap 40% is good and the rest is kinda mid, most ppl will find the good and even enjoy the mid enough for it to be worth it. And the more you work, the better those numbers will get! That’s the way I always look at it anyway.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 26 - There’s No Place Like Home

*Door opens*

Masumi: I’m home.

Tsuzuru: Aahh~, finally home…

Itaru: I’m exhausted… There really is no place like home.

Sakuya: Welcome home!

Citron: I am phone~!

Chikage: You got back yesterday, right, Sakuya?

Sakuya: Yeah! I’m really glad I got to be the one to say “welcome home” to you guys!

Izumi: We’ve been waiting for all of you.

Banri: Startin’ tomorrow you guys are gonna have a pretty strict rehearsal schedule to follow.

Citron: What a sporkin’ assistant director~.

Tsuzuru: I think you mean “spartan”.

Tsuzuru: Ah, right. There’s something I wanna discuss about the script, can we talk about that later?

Izumi: Sure thing.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: Alright, to kick off our rehearsals starting up again, I’ll pass out the new scripts right away.

Sakuya: Did you rewrite the script?

Tsuzuru: Just a bit. I wanted to focus on Romeo’s sword-fighting scene a little more. I got the idea after seeing your sword fighting during our remote rehearsal the other day.

Tsuzuru: I thought it’d be a good way to distinguish things from the original and change the pacing a bit.

Itaru: How’d you manage to rework things in such a short amount of time?

Tsuzuru: Thanks to the training camp, I was able to train my typing fingers to work even faster.

Itaru: Nice.

Izumi: I’ll go ahead and explain how the stage direction has changed to better fit the script.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Banri: Aight, let’s call it here for afternoon rehearsals.

Izumi: Good work, everyone.

Sakuya: Good work!

Itaru: Aghh… My body is still jet-lagged…

Chikage: There wasn’t even that much of a time difference between here and where you went.

Tsuzuru: Well, it is kinda tiring just being on a plane.

Izumi: Masumi-kun, are you able to have a quick promo meeting after this? Sakyo-san asked me to fill you in on the project we’ve been working on.

Masumi: I’ve actually been doing some research into that too.

Masumi: I think social media ads are a great way to get more votes from streaming and to target the recent theater user base.

Masumi: And we should get a good grasp on outdoor advertisements too… You can put them up for relatively cheap around this area.

Izumi: Really? I see…

Masumi: I think I can probably get us some ad space through my company.

Izumi: Really? Alright, we can put together a budget with that in mind.

Masumi: Got it. I’ll get right on it.

Tsuzuru: Masumi’s really starting to look like a guy who’s in charge of promo.

Itaru: The rate at which he’s growing as a short-term intern is actually just sickening.

Sakuya: That’s our Masumi-kun.

Chikage: And you’re getting even better at sword fighting, Sakuya.

Tsuzuru: I decided to change the script thinking it’d be kinda difficult for you, but it turned out to be no problem at all.

Sakuya: Really? Thank you so much!

Banri: I’m sure you’re able to show the audience that Romeo’s grown up to be pretty damn strong since the original while out on his journey, right?

Sakuya: I’ll do my best!

Citron: I feel like Chikage has also changed since going out on his trip~!

Itaru: True. It’s not quite the same as growing up, but he definitely seems to be some kind of refreshed.

Chikage: Is that so? I wonder if I really have had a change of mental state since I got some closure on my feelings.

Banri: By the way, we got a request for an interview from some foreign press the other day. That ‘cause of you, Citron?

Tsuzuru: Whoa, was it really from overseas?

Citron: I am instanding when it comes to publicity!

Tsuzuru: It’s “outstanding”.

Itaru: Makes sense since a minister’s definitely got a high visibility stat.

Izumi: That said, we’ve only got a limited number of people here who can correspond with people overseas, so it’d be great if we could have your help in this regard, Chikage-san.

Chikage: Understood.

Citron: Maybe I can work with Chikage to develop things directed at the entire world!

Sakuya: I think that’s a great idea!

Masumi: Then I’ll come up with some ideas too.

Itaru: All of you are out here shining while I’m stuck as a corporate slave that’s only gained more fatigue from all of this…

*Phone buzzes*

Itaru: Ah, sorry, it’s the company.

Izumi: Go ahead.

Itaru: Thank you for your hard work. This is Chigasaki.

Itaru: Yes… What was that… Oh, I see. Understood. Thank you so much for taking the time to do this.

Itaru: Yes, I’ll get in contact with you later. I look forward to working with you.

*Beep*

Itaru: Hell yeah, baby!

Sakuya: Did something happen?

Itaru: Hm~, sorta. I’m just having a rare happy moment where I’m actually happy with my job.

Citron: Congratulations!

Chikage: We’re happy for you.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Itaru: 《Well then, I’ll leave this matter to you.》

Itaru: 《Also, regarding the matter we discussed the other day, is your schedule looking okay for that?》

Itaru: 《Understood. I’m pleased to be working with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.》

*Beep*

Itaru: Haah…

Itaru: (I know I’m the one who started this whole thing, but God, I’ve been so busy planning this ceremonial event…)

Itaru: (Well, it’s forgiven because of what it’s related to.)

*Phone rings*

Itaru: Thank you for your hard work. This is Chigasaki.

Itaru: End Links is--? Understood, please put them through.

Itaru: Hello, the line has been switched. This is Chigasaki. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of talking to you.

Itaru: Thank you so much for your cooperation with this ceremonial event.

Itaru: Yes, both the local fans and Japanese fans have high expectations regarding--Yes.

Itaru: …Pardon?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: You got an offer to play Lancelot as part of the overseas KniRoun Stage!?

Itaru: I mean, sorta? It’s just a music concert, though, so it’s more like a guest performance where I’d do some minor sword fighting during it.

Itaru: Hoshii-san called me to tell me that the stageplay of KniRoun is really appreciated among overseas fans.

Citron: It is amazing that you heard that directly from Director Hoshii!

Sakuya: That’s just how much your Lancelot is recognized by both Hoshii-san and the fans, Itaru-san!

Itaru: Yeah… It’s honestly pretty nice to hear.

Itaru: But even though I was the one who submitted the plan for KniRoun for the ceremonial event, I’m still crazy surprised because I never thought they’d offer something to me personally.

Chikage: KniRoun fans both in Japan and around the world are going to be paying attention because of where it’s taking place. There’ll be a lot of PVs from overseas, so it’s a great PR opportunity too.

Citron: It will absolutely be peeling them!

Masumi: Not peel, it’s “appeal”.

Itaru: But the event date’s right before Spring Troupe’s performance. And I’d need about a two or three-day schedule for all the rehearsals and everything…

Itaru: And even if I were to leave there immediately after the show if you add in the travel time, I’d be back home on our opening day.

Itaru: There’s just not enough time. I don’t think there’s any way for this to work.

Izumi: But it’s such a great opportunity--.

Masumi: Don’t you want to do it?

Itaru: Well, of course, but…

Itaru: If I have to choose between it and Spring Troupe, I’m choosing Spring Troupe, no hesitation.

Tsuzuru: …Isn’t there something we can do?

Banri: …You said you’d need about two or three days, right? You could prolly get away with it if you’d be chill with losing out on your off days from rehearsals.

Izumi: Right. We’ve been making good progress, so…

Chikage: There are lots of flights that depart at night and arrive here early in the morning on opening day. You’d be able to make it in time for the start of the show, and you’d probably be able to be part of the dress rehearsal too.

Izumi: It’ll be okay, Itaru-san.

Itaru: --.

Tsumugi: If you need an understudy, I’ll be able to handle it. I practiced a bit with Sakuya-kun the other day.

Tenma: I can help out too.

Sakuya: Please go and do it, Itaru-san!

Masumi: Hasn’t our whole thing been taking on new challenges as much as we can, no matter how reckless they might seem?

Tsuzuru: If you’re hesitating about something, then you should just go ahead and do it. That’s what I thought when I decided to do my scriptwriting training camp.

Chikage: We’ll make it all work, somehow.

Citron: If you love your child, sell them out on a journey!

Tsuzuru: Send, not sell.

Itaru: …Thanks, guys. I’ll go ahead and take this chance.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[distracted-milkshake]

Kay so the tags of this post started me in a thought tangent that lowkey got me hopping mad.

Disabilities.

Umbrella Academy character have none and if they do they get reversed/healed/“fixed” somehow.

Examples:

Diego’s adaption doesn’t have an eyepatch/has both eyes

Five’s arm came back in the reset (literally minutes after he lost it!)

Allison got her voice back (in the comics it took Commission magic surgery and was for plot but in the show it just heals, and not for any real reason except so she can use her power again ig? The story could’ve been reworked :/)

Vanya/Viktor straight up doesn’t get shot at all and he does lose his memory but again, he just gets it back

The only exceptions I can think of are Harold (who’s a villain and fucking dies btw) and Harlan (who also fucking dies!) who’s not a positive or even neutral representation of non-verbal autistic characters by any means (I’ll get into that in a later post).

What the actual hell is up with that?! They’re superheroes, literally? Even after the reset they have training and that would almost render most disabilities unnoticeable from a writing standpoint, the only difficulty being actually fucking properly representing what limitations they would have.

And? Eyepatch Diego would be flipping awesome. Mute Allison finding some other way to channel her powers equally fucking so! I DON’T THINK I EVEN NEED TO MENTION PROSTHETIC ARM FIVE.

This show already seems like it’s never going to properly explore these characters’ trauma, PTSD, and other various mental health issues and disorders (example Five never fricking crying, all PTSD symptoms somehow erased after s1, Klaus’ flashbacks only maybe twice despite being trapped in time in a war for nearly a year, all of them remarkably keeping from breaking down [except Allison of course, you know how women are!] in s3), but it also seems like they’ve been purposefully cutting out their physical disabilities, and since day one.