#and it has been several months since then

[yellowtrinity]

For the character/pair requests, can I ask for fluri please? You drew them so cutely in your big tov post <3

besties 💢

[55sturn]

✮ RUNNING INTO EX!CHRIS STURNIOLO AT A PARTY

inspired by + creds to: everyone that has written the ex!triplet au!

disclaimers: swearing, angst, mentions of drugs + alcohol, allusions of cheating [ no cheating ever happened ], chris is so in love with reader

you didn’t wanna be here in some dingy kitchen, complete with a slightly (severely) outdated interior, mismatched furniture in heinous colours that didn’t pair well, tacky printed wallpaper that mirrored the weird carpeting from the hotel in the shining, every surface in the house sticky with various spilt liquids, crushed cans and solo cups crunching beneath the platform of your doc martens with every step you took, and drug paraphernalia laying around everywhere you looked. you could even spot the cocaine straws and leftover residue of the white powder on the brown countertops. truthfully, in hindsight, it was not the best setting for two kids that just got scouted and eventually contracted for some of the best college hockey teams in the state.

but still, you plastered a smile on your face and showed up, for matt and chris, despite that you and chris had broken up a couple months ago. you know and witnessed firsthand how hard they worked to get this far in their hockey careers. and this party was being thrown to celebrate and commemorate their shared dreams coming to fruition.

the air was thick with weed and cigarette smoke as you made your way through the house, your eyes and throat burning with each blink and breath. the smell of skunky ass weed alone could give anyone in attendance the worst case of cotton mouth. you fought the urge to gag at the sight of couples and people who were obviously seeing one another shotgunning smoke into each other’s mouths or even just straight up swapping spit and dry humping one another.

you knew you were being a hypocrite and a bit condescending, considering that you were in those girls’ places less than six months ago. you and chris constantly put on a heavy show of pda, not caring who was around. but as you kept pushing through the crowd of people, your best friend stopped in her tracks, turning to face you so fast you’re shocked she doesn’t get whiplash.

“chris is head of the drink table tonight.” she hums right against the shell of your ear, and you’re quick to stiffen. this is the first time you’re going to see him since the breakup, and it’s not going to be easy considering how harsh the breakup was.

“fuck, i need a drink.” you groan, trying to come up with some way to get a drink without your ex seeing you.

“i’ll get a drink for you, wait here.” she smiles, turning and walking away just as fast as before, and you didn’t even have a chance to tell her that when chris is head of the drink table, he’s quick to limit a person.

you wandered aimlessly around the equally dingy living room, the soft LED lights making your head throb slightly, and you swore could feel the thump of the bass bumping in your blood stream. you knew you needed a drink if you were going to tolerate this any longer, so you took a deep breath before turning around and pushing toward the drink table. you felt your hands begin to tremble as you got closer to seeing chris with each step. you weren’t ready, and you didn’t think you were ever going to be. the fight had been a clash of angry words and deep cutting insults thrown at one another, most of them directed at you.

you stand on the side of the drink table, opposite of chris as he talked to one his buddies, contemplating turning around and pretending you were never there, but his friend taps him on the shoulder and nods toward you, and before you could leave, chris turns around, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second before looking away, only for him to look at you again.

“yo jason grab me a fruit punch truly.” chris calls over his shoulder, and the fact that he stills know what your go to drink has your stomach churning with nostalgia and something a bit more heartbreaking.

you’re quick to take the drink from him and walk away, but he’s quicker, much quicker to tap his friend into their shift and tag along after you, he’s one step ahead of you figuratively, always has been, it’s almost as if he could tell what you were thinking before the thought fully formed in your mind. and he’s quick to catch up to you, to gently grab your arm, pulling you back to face him.

“can we talk?” the words slip out of his mouth before he can even really think about them, and your body goes rigid as you look at him, the question you wanted to avoid had finally settled into the air, thick as the smoke that hung amidst the crowd of partygoers. and you go against your internal wishes as you nod, walking behind him as he pulls you to one of the bathrooms on the top floor, and you don’t question him as he sits on the counter across from the wall you’re leaning against partially to respect his space, mostly because his cologne is intoxicating and you fear that if you sit next to him, you’ll make rash decisions that wouldn’t be fair to either if you.

after a pregnant pause coupled with him watching your face intently, he hums a simple question that hurts more than it should.

“how ya been kid?”

“i’ve been okay, just trying to push through the rest of the semester, you?” you whisper, scared to break the rather agonizing and bittersweet tenderness that clings to the atmosphere.

“i’ve been, well, if i’m being honest, i’ve been a wreck. i miss you, y/n. more than i know i should given what led to us fighting and breaking up, but i don’t want to lie to you. but it’s fuckin’ with my head, you fuck with my head.” he sighs, fiddling with the silver bracelet dangling off his wrist.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve been benched more these last few weeks than i have in my entire life playing sports, i’ve gotten enough penalties to be threatened with suspension because i’m angry and i hurt every day and i just want to believe that this is just some fucked up dream and that it’ll finally end and i’ll wake up next to you, but it’s like i’m stuck in a loop that started the day you walked out.”

“you mean the day you told me that i’m too much for you? the day you said that you could get with any girl you want, that you almost cheated on me?” you spit, not meaning to sound so angry, but the fact of the matter is, his words killed you. they hung over you like a dark grey cloud, repeating on an infinite loop in the depths of your mind every time you doubted yourself.

“yes. and i regret those words every single second. i’m not trying to justify it, but i could feel myself cracking under the pressure from my coach, under the self inflicted pressure of wanting to prove myself to you, to prove i was still worthy of your love. i wish i had asked for space that night, it would’ve given me a chance to take a deep breath and collect my thoughts instead of spewing hateful lies your way.” he murmurs, his eyes glossing over with tears as you watch him, your own eyes stinging ever so slightly.

“chris-“

“i don’t want to be one of those pathetic guys that begs a girl for another chance after doggin’ on them but god kid, i am so in love with you, you’re the girl i wanna marry, and if i don’t sit here and beg for one more chance, i’ll hate myself until the end of time. i don’t want us to end because i fucked up when i should’ve just taken a step back, i want us to end together, in rocking chairs on our deck when we’re eighty, with grey hair and wrinkly skin.” he pleads, climbing off the counter and dropping to his knees in front of you, his arms wrapping around your hips as he presses his forehead to your stomach, and as mad as you were and as much as his words hurt, the idea of not being able to love chris or feel his love again hurt just that tiny bit more.

the idea hurt enough to make you drop down to his level, your hands cradling his face as you promise him one more chance, but on the condition that he starts communicating with you, because you don’t want to lose him permanently to something that could’ve been so easily resolved, but you also don’t want to go through another night of hearing such painful insults thrown at you by the person that’s meant to love and cherish you. so you let him in again, because you love him, and you know him, you know his heart. because sometimes loving someone, means giving them another chance to prove themselves, it means forgiving their mistakes but not excusing them, and giving them an opportunity to heal and grow from them.

[notjustjavierpena]

Inés just broke something in the house, what does hubby and wife say????

Mess (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Such a fun writing project, tysm. I missed them terribly! 

Summary: Inés breaks a lamp. Javier has the scare of his life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Family dynamics, Javier POV, fluff, hurt/comfort, i write to fix my own trauma 

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Mess

The stack of folded clothes is growing taller whilst the laundry basket on the double bed is emptying out. Javier is enjoying a weekend with time to get housework done before midterms begin at the local college. He is nervous about guiding his students through the exams for the first time since starting his job as a teacher, feeling like he has only just begun his life as an educator and the responsibilities are overwhelming. You’ve sweetly encouraged him each time he’s voiced his concerns to you, told him that his class is lucky to have him whenever he has mumbled about nerves over dishes or during goodnight kisses. 

With your support, he has found that prepping for the exams is best done accompanied by mindless work and he has gone through several tasks on the list saved in his head; groceries have been bought, gutters have been cleaned, and two full baskets of children’s clothes have been washed and dried. He doesn’t want to admit to you that he thinks about the theories behind criminal behavior while folding Sebastian’s tiny socks. 

You are outside with the boys, enjoying the last months of your pregnancy with a book in your lap, laying in the hammock under the large trees. He checks on the three of you often, spotting that you have put down the book as you sway gently to substitute it with watching your children with a hand on your rounded belly. Lucas smiles brightly as he has Sebastian waddling hurriedly after him on the newly mowed grass. The soles of their feet will be green when they come inside later, marking the floorboards that he has just vacuumed but he doesn’t mind. It is evidence of fun, of love and joy. Messes equals life.

Inés is the only one who refuses to go outside. Her giggles and chatter floated up the stairs not too long again, blending with her little feet making the floorboards creak as she paced around with her hobby horse. It offers a rare kind of comfort to be able to hear her having fun while he packs clothes away into dressers and drawers. 

Until he doesn’t hear it anymore. Instead, it is a sudden crash that comes from downstairs and makes Javier tense up. He freezes to listen for her voice calling for him but only silence follows the loud noise. 

“Inés?” He calls. No answer. The t-shirt that he is in the middle of folding falls to the bed and his heartbeat quickens. 

He walks to the open door of the bedroom, grabs the doorframe, and leans out of it to listen again. He calls her name a second time, this time a little louder and more insistently, but there’s still no response. 

In his chest, his heart has started to pound enough for him to be able to hear it in his ears. Many thoughts go through his head at the sound of silence from the living room, firstly images of broken furniture but then finally the picture of his daughter who has fallen and hit her head. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to her? Why hadn’t he checked on her sooner? 

He is out the door before he even realizes that he is moving, barrelling down the stairs and taking it two steps at a time. Fuck, maybe he could have prevented disaster if he had gone downstairs the second she had gone quiet. He raises his voice without thinking, knuckles whitening as he grips the banister, “Inés? Answer me now!”

When he stumbles into the living room, he first notices the broken lamp, a shattered bulb lying beside the ceramic base on the wooden floor but with no blood on the shards. Next to it, Inés’ hobby horse lies discarded like it has been thrown in a panicked hurry. He furrows his brow, scanning the room to find her. 

When he spots her through the doorway to the dining room, crouched down under the table, relief floods him. She isn’t hurt, no sign of even a scratch on her, but then he sees the way she has her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes are fixated on the broken lamp. 

She’s scared not of the crash, he realizes, but of him; his shouting, his loud footsteps, the way he had said her name. She looks like she is bracing herself for trouble - more specifically the anger and disappointment in his voice - and she’s covering her ears with little, trembling hands in a way that is unsuccessful in keeping out noise. The sight of her terrified face makes Javier remember the feeling of being unfairly scolded for accidents horribly well, and his heart sinks.

He walks calmly into the dining room, not even thinking about the broken lamp anymore, and kneels on the floor. With his hands on his thighs, he takes a deep breath to steady himself, “Inés, I’m not mad at you. I just want to know if you’re okay, baby.”

His daughter lifts her gaze to meet his eyes. His chest constricts at the sight of the tears in Inés’ wide eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, still immovable. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly. 

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she answer in a whisper and shakes her head. She’s always so bold, hilarious, and mischievous but she’s so clearly hiding from him, trying to decide if it’s safe to come out or not. 

“I know you didn’t, mija (my daughter),” he reassures and moves slowly until he holds both hands out to her, palms open towards the ceiling, “It’s just a lamp, okay? Come here, I’m not mad. Just let me take a look at you.”

Javier can only imagine how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now, knowing that he hurried down here with his own racing heartbeat. She must be dizzy from the anxiety just as he is disoriented by his adrenaline. He gestures gently at her, beckoning her to him. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she repeats quietly.

“Lo sé (I know),” he offers her a little reassuring smile, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor instead, “Can you come out, please?”

With hesitant steps, she moves from under the table and walks straight to him. He expects that he has to ask for a hug but just as she comes to a halt in front of him, she collapses into his arms like they are a harbor in a storm. He squeezes her tightly. 

“I thought you were mad at me, Papá,” she hiccups as her tears wet his shirt. He rests his chin on top of her head, his broad palm stroking her small back. 

“Not at all, baby. You just scared me is all. You didn’t answer and I thought you were hurt,” he explains while pressing gentle kisses to her hair. He inhales slightly, sighing at the way his baby girl smells of love to him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and practically crawls into his lap. 

“It’s okay,” he replies, cradling her in the same manner as he has done since the day she was placed in his arms for the first time, “It’s just a lamp. Mamá and I can just get a new one but we can’t get a new you.”

“Will you tell her?” She pulls back to look up at him with huge, wet eyes. 

He nods, using his thumb to swipe at the tears on her face, “Yes, I will have to tell her but Mommy doesn’t care about the lamp either. I promise. We care about you. I’ll also tell her that you gave Daddy the scare of his life and made him run down the stairs like a crazy person.”

A tiny, hesitant giggle escapes her and he feels another wave of relief wash over him. She finally smiles and her voice is more steady now, “Silly.”

“Very silly,” he agrees with a smile and runs a palm over her head, threading his fingers through her hair, “But you know what’s not silly though?”

“What?”

“If anything like this ever happens again - if you break something or you get scared - I want you to call for me instead of hiding underneath the furniture. Just say ‘Papá, I need you’ and I’ll be there, okay?” 

She only hesitates for a moment but then nods thoughtfully, “Okay.”

“And hey, te quiero tanto (I love you so much).”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she says, no hesitation this time. 

The two of them stand up from the floor to look at the broken lamp on the floor. Inés makes an uncomfortable face, reaching for Javier’s hand. He holds her hand in his palm, “How about we tell Mom together?” 

“Now?” She widens her eyes but she isn’t crying anymore. 

“Yes now. Watch your feet, alright?” He waits for her to initiate the first step towards the door to the garden. Her eyes are firmly on the floor as they pass the broken ceramic shards. 

Outside, Javier's face is warm in the afternoon sun. There’s a buzz in the air from the cicadas’ singing and the laughter from his two sons. He and Inés find you in the hammock, the book still discarded as you watch your children with fondness but this time, you’ve switched to sitting. 

However, as they approach, your eyebrows knit together when you spot Inés' apprehensive look. You carefully plant your feet on the ground, asking, “Is everything okay?”

Javier glances at his daughter, “Inés has something she wants to tell you.”

She fidgets for a few seconds, looking down at her feet, but when she feels Javier’s hand on her shoulder, she looks up with determination. She confesses quietly but her voice doesn’t waver, “I broke the lamp. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Inés, baby,” your expression softens instantly. With a gentle touch, you brush a strand of hair out of your daughter’s face, “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

She shakes her head, “I’m okay. Daddy said you wouldn’t get mad but it is messy all over the floor.” 

“You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” your gaze flickers to Javier, a look warmer than the sun in your eyes. He feels his heart nearly leap out of his chest but he catches himself in interrupting the moment between you. You continue, “Daddy and I don’t mind messes, do we? As long as everyone is okay.”

“Yes,” Inés nods in grateful understanding. 

“How about you sit here with Mommy while I clean the floor?” Javier finally suggests, “Then the living room will be as good as new and you can play in there again?”

“Yes, please,” she says politely, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. 

“Okay,” you chime in and kiss him softly on the mouth before he heads into the house once more. 

Yes, messes mean life, and Javier is lucky enough to live in a world where life also means love.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[tropes-and-tales]

Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part II

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW:  Light angst (relationship woes); open relationships; smut (oral, F!receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4180

AN:  This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has always prided himself on making the right move every time.  As a varsity athlete in high school, whether on the football field or basketball court, for example: he always saw the field of play, the players on it.  He could always calculate possible outcomes and always made the right choice.

Same for his military career.  He didn’t make it to Top Gun as a fluke.  He’s the best because he can sense the environment, can feel the strength and speed of the plane under his control.  He can crawl into the psyche of his fellow pilots and best them in simulations because he’s sharp and observant.

He always makes the right move.

Until he doesn’t.

Opening up his relationship with you felt like the right move months ago.  Jake loves you, truly.  He knows he can search for a thousand years and never find a woman as loyal as you.  He’ll never find someone so willing to put up with the chaos of his life in active service.  Even if he didn’t know it, the other guys would remind him of it:  that you’re a rare specimen, that he should have wifed you up years ago.

The thing is—you and Jake have been together for so long.  Since you were kids.  Since ideas like love and forever were abstract things.  Since your future together seemed both a small thing and a thing that would stretch out for an eternity.  It was one thing to date you as a teenager, to make lofty promises to you when the biggest decision Jake had to make was which party to attend after the Friday night football game.

It was an entirely different thing now.  To go from his small Texas hometown to the world and all its variety and promise.  To turn to the hard, often boring work of living together:  Jake getting his marching orders, you trailing behind faithfully.

Opening the relationship was for both of you.  It’s how Jake justified it to you, how if you both loosened the reins a bit, then when you eventually married, there’d be no lingering doubt.  There’d be no question of missing out. 

It worked for all those months.  Jake got to have his cake and eat it too.  He got to explore, got to experience different women…but always came home to you.  It was like a pressure valve, just him letting off steam, relieving the pressure that built up from a high-stress position as a pilot.

He encouraged you to do the same.  To explore.  To have fun.  There was a part of him that was turned on by the thought of you with another man, though if Jake were entirely honest with himself, the entire open relationship was mostly for him.

If you sat at the Hard Deck with a dour expression on your face, was that his fault?  If you refused to take advantage of the free pass he gave you, was that his problem?

Until you seemingly took advantage of that free pass. 

Until you don’t come home one night.  Until you breeze in late one morning with a soft smile of your face that Jake hasn’t seen for years.  Until you murmur a greeting at him, distracted, then slip into the bathroom for a long shower.

Jake always makes the right move, but as you seemingly wash away some other man under a steaming shower, he realizes that he’s made the absolute worst move.

-----

Who was it?

It’s the question that gnaws at his gut, that makes his jaw ripple with tension as he grinds his teeth together.

The most obvious answer is someone from your job.  Jake is away for long stretches, and you have a traditional 9-to-5 job in tech.  Your office is tilted heavily in favor of the men; there’s a lot of young guys in your orbit every workday.  Some asshole in khakis and a polo shirt, some asshole with a sensible Honda CRV with golf clubs stowed in the back.  Some asshole who perhaps goes out to lunch with you, the two of you sharing tacos in the San Diego sunshine, of sending flirty messages through Slack or whatever…

Another possibility?  A fellow flyboy, or at least a military asshole.  San Diego teems with young, fit men in uniforms, and many of them are looking for a loyal girl to lock down. 

Which puts Jake in mind of his fellow Daggers.  You accompany him to the Hard Deck nearly every night he goes.  You usually sit outside, listening to the surf…but you spend enough time with the rest of his squad.

Is it Coyote, with his killer smile and dimples?

It is Payback with his laid-back charm and easy way of talking?

Could it be Javi and the way he leans in, like he’s unable to resist a woman when he’s chatting her up?

Maybe it’s Bob.  Jake had made a joke of it often enough, just for the benefit of tweaking the little nerd and making him go atomic red.  Jake loved winding the back-seater up, and every time he asked Bob if he wanted to fuck you, he turned into a stuttering, blushing mess before freaking out and declining.

Rooster and his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and ability to draw all eyes on him when he plays the piano?  You took piano lessons in high school, and more than once, you’ve perched beside Rooster and added little musical flourishes as he pounded out another Jerry Lee Lewis standard.  Jake searches his memory.  Didn’t you give Rooster a shy little smile after each performance?  Didn’t Rooster throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side after a duet that ended in raucous applause?

And didn’t Rooster pull Jake aside just weeks ago to give him a stern talking-to about how miserable you seem?

Jake sits in the canteen and picks at his lunch, and he lets his glare settle on the man sitting two tables over.  Was Maverick’s pet pilot the man who put that dreamy little smile on your face two days earlier?

*****

Bob hasn’t been able to focus all day.  Thank god it’s just been classroom work about the physics of flying and not actual flying.

He picks at his lunch and lets the talk in the canteen fade into the background.  He can’t stop thinking about you.  About his date with you.  About the night he spent with you, and then the morning.  About driving you home—the home you share with Jake—and how you turned to him, shy, and brushed a kiss against his blushing cheek before you slid out of his truck and ran inside.

How can he be so happy and so miserable at the same time?  To have had that amazing moment with you, and to realize that you can’t be his.  Bob glances over at the man himself and sees Jake glaring at Rooster—that old, tired rivalry—and Bob feels jealousy lance through him sharper than a knife.

His mind rapid fires through the date like a slideshow, the images cycling in his mind’s eye as he lifts his fork, chews his food without tasting it.  He replays every moment.  He replays every word you spoke, parsing through them for some hidden clue.

Bob finds it when he’s eating a buttered roll.  He remembers what it felt like to make love to you, and he remembers that he wore no condom, and he remembers your words.

I’m clean, Bobby.  I had a test just last month and was clean, so if you don’t want to wear a condom...

He freezes with the piece of bread lifted halfway to his mouth.  His mouth gapes open, and he seizes up and doesn’t move as he considers the implications.  What you said, and what you really said.

You are in a relationship with Jake, and Jake sees women outside of your relationship.  You had an STD test a month ago and felt comfortable enough to tell Bob you were clean.

Ergo, you and Jake have not been intimate in at least a month, which means that perhaps your relationship to the cocky Bagman is not as solid as Jake sells it to the Daggers.

-----

How can Bob be so miserable and so happy at the same time?

It helps when the happiness tips the scales, because that date wasn’t a one-time thing at all.  That evening, after Bob had his realization in the canteen, he gets a text from you.

Thank you again for planning such a lovely date. I had the best time, you write.

The smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, and he’s grinning so hard that he doesn’t have a chance to respond before you send a second text.

If you ever would want to hang out again, I’d love that.

That makes him scoff.  The soft wording of it, if he ever would want to.  As if you haven’t been occupying his thoughts for every waking moment since that date.  As if he hasn’t been praying and hoping for just this invitation from you, this toehold for more.

I absolutely would love to hang out with you again, he replies.

You:  When?

Bob:  Anytime. Sooner the better.

You:  Give me a date and time.

Bob:  Right now?

It’s a joke, but not really.  It’s a joke, but he wants you with him now, wants to soothe the jittery anxiety that comes from having you for a night and then not having you.  It’s a joke, but not really, because you respond with three words that make his pulse race and his mouth go dry.

On my way.

It’s a joke, but not really, because half an hour later there’s a knock at his door, and when he opens it, you’re standing there and neither of you say a word because he opens the door wider, and you step through it.  You step into his arms, and he enfolds you against him, and then your mouth is on his, his glasses are knocked askew, and he’s half-dragging you as you half-push him back into his bedroom. 

There’s no hesitancy this time around; Bob senses no reserve or shyness.  He only feels your hunger that matches his own, a ravenous urge that makes this moment sloppy and rushed.  Neither of you finesse it—he only pushes the skirt of your dress up and tugs your panties down enough.  You only undo his belt, his button and zipper, push his pants and boxers low enough for his cock to spring free.

You both only do enough to clear the obstacles to your mutual goal, and when Bob slots the head of his cock against your entrance, it’s both of you moving as one:  him pushing into you, you pulling him into you.  The moan you loose at the sensation is echoed by Bob, and it’s only afterwards—sweaty, panting, sated—that you finally actually exchange words.

“I’m glad you reached out,” Bob says.  He runs his fingertips up and down your arm, and you nestle closer to him.

Something has changed in you since that first night together.  You’re less uncertain.  Braver.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admit simply.

That pulse-racing, dry-mouth feeling returns.  “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Bob swallows hard.  There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue.  Where is this going?  Where is Jake?  What happens next?

Instead, he wraps his arm firmer around you.  “Tell you something,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”

*****

A month passes.  You and Jake even out.  Your relationship finds the sort of easy equilibrium that he always wanted with the open thing—or at least, you don’t seem so morose when he has dates with other women.  He doesn’t hear you sniffling in bed when he comes home late. 

You, though?  Jake can’t quite figure out what’s going on with you, and since one of the rules of this thing is a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell,” he can’t know for certain. 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

It’s a rare evening when you both stay in.  You make dinner, and the two of you sit and eat.  You chat about your respective days, and when the conversation peters out, Jake clears his throat.

“Have you been…taking advantage of the free pass?”

Your eyes slide up to meet his gaze.  “We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

“We said we’d never discuss specifics.  This was just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

You arch an eyebrow.  You say nothing.

Jake stares at you, tries to read your expression.  He weighs the entirety of your relationship.  Everything he knows about you, which is a lot.  His loyal girl, his ride-or-die.  He weighs all of it against this new you who is more at ease with your arrangement, and he concludes that no, you must not be sleeping with anyone else.  You probably just came to accept it from him.  You probably just see the wisdom in letting him let off steam and explore before he comes back to you and settles down.  Your refusal to answer him must just be a way to needle him.

It's the wrong conclusion, but he won’t realize that for a while longer.

-----

Another month passes.  The ease continues. 

Jake relaxes.  That single night months ago must have been an aberration.  Another way of needling him.  He assumes you spent the night at a girlfriend’s place and just chose to act mysterious about it to make him jealous. 

His life finds a blissful rhythm.  He has his home with you, and he’s not so blind that he can’t admit how nice you’ve made his life here in San Diego.  You give him a warm, cozy place to land after stressful days on base.  You give him simplicity, and when he looks across the kitchen table or the couch and sees you there, it makes him feel like he’s been wrapped in a weighted blanket.

Jake’s momma always said he should put a ring on your finger before you left Texas.  “Girl like that is hard to find and harder to keep, Jakey,” she used to say. 

But Jake’s dad always said he should wait before tying himself to any one woman.  “Take it from me, Jake,” he used to say.  “Don’t get your high school girlfriend knocked up and marry her at nineteen.  Live a little before you commit to the ball-and-chain.”

Jake can see his father’s wisdom now (even though he was the cause of that shotgun wedding at nineteen).  This open thing is clarifying what Jake wants for his future.  He’s getting all that latent, restless energy out of his system.  Each stranger he goes home with, each woman he fucks just brings him that much closer to a future where he puts that ring on your finger and promises to only be with you for the rest of his life.

*****

It’s more than just hooking up.

Bob can’t deny it from his side of things, and he has a feeling that you see it the same as him.  The two of you meet up, make love—sometimes frantic, sometimes slow and drawn out—but you also spend time together.

Two blissful months pass from that first date.  You and Bob find time in your schedules where there’s overlapping availability.  For you, that tends to be when Jake is off on a date or at the Hard Deck conquering another conquest.  You and Bob meet up there too, play it cool, pretend to just be the usual friendly acquaintances that you’ve always been…. then once Jake is out the door, the two of you slip out a moment later when it’s clear.

It's all-consuming.  Bob has never been in a situation with a woman like this before.  He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you aren’t around.

He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you are.

He dreams of you, wakes up hard and aching, wakes up feeling like he’s taken a cannonball to the chest.  He holds imaginary conversations with you in his head; he’s driven to near-distraction, and only Nat keeps him in line during his workday. 

Even so, more than once, Maverick has caught him daydreaming, and Bob’s paid for it with countless pushups on the tarmac.

But when you’re with him, he can’t get enough.  He’s become pushier than he’s ever been with a woman before.  Countless times, he fails to get you home before he takes you:  he’s fucked you against the lifeguard stand yards away from the Hard Deck, the ceaseless waves covering up the sound of you moaning his name.  He’s bent you over the sink of the bar bathroom, met your unflinching stare in the water-spotted mirror as he found a fast and hard rhythm that spoke more to the lack of time you had before the other Daggers missed the two of you.  He’s pulled you into his lap in his truck, pushed your panties to the side, pulled you down onto him.  He’s knelt at your feet and feasted on your perfect pussy so many times that he wonders how the other pilots—how Jake—doesn’t smell you on him. 

You’re ravenous for each other, but there’s also sweet moments.  Little mundane moments where your appetites are sated, and you can just be with each other.

The way you run your fingers through his short-cropped hair.  The way you rub the pad of your thumb over the little indents on the sides of his nose from his glasses.  The way you stretch out like a cat, pleased and lazy after sex, and ask him all about his life.  What he was like as a kid, what his family is like.

Sometimes, you ask him where he sees himself in a year, in five years, in a decade.

He never answers those forward-looking questions.  He turns them around on you, echoes the questions back to you.

You never answer them either. 

It’s like both of you are in a stalemate.  Neither of you ever mention Jake by name, and you only occasionally mention him obliquely as him.  The two of you operate in a bubble suspended in time, where your past with Jake doesn’t quite exist and where your respective futures are hazy and unclear.

When Bob lies in bed late at night, alone, he knows how he’d answer you if you really pressed him.

Where does he see himself in a year?  With you.

Where does he see himself in five years?  With you.

Where does he see himself for the rest of his life?  With you.  Always with you.

*****

The Hard Deck is packed.  Javi and Nat play pool, and you, Rooster, and Bob watch them as you chat amiably.

Jake feels relaxed.  He feels good. 

He called his parents over the weekend, and he had a good talk with them.  An honest talk, or as honest as one can have with their parents.  He described work and how well it was going at Top Gun, how things with you have evened and smoothed out.

He hesitates only a beat before he tells them:  he wants to bring you back to Texas for the holidays.  He has leave, and you can take the time off too.  A big Seresin family Christmas.  It has been far too long.

“I thought I might go see her dad,” he mentions too.  “Gotta ask him a question.”

At that, his mother squealed over the line, and his father took a moment to clear his throat, then gruffly added that he thought Jake had turned into a fine man, and that he was proud of him.

Jake feels good.  It feels right.  He glances over at where you stand with Rooster and Bob, the three of you laughing as Javi tries and fails a trick shot.  You look relaxed, almost happy, and Jake smiles to see it.  Hasn’t this been the ultimate proof that the two of you were meant to be after all?  You survived the open relationship, gave him the grace to sow his wild oats, and now—

“You’re hella cool about it, Jake.”  The voice interrupts Jake’s thoughts, and when he turns, he sees Fanboy standing beside him. 

“Cool about what?”

“Your girl.”

An icy finger of dread drags itself down his spine, but Jake hides it behind an easy smile.  “What about my girl?”

Fanboy shrugs and leans against the bar.  “I know you had this open thing.  I just never saw it play out in a way that wasn’t messy.”

Jake’s smile widens.  “She came around in the end.  It was just hooking up.  She always knew she had my heart.”

“Nah.”  Fanboy elbows him lightly in his side.  “I mean, you seem really cool with your girl hooking up with the pussy-eating champion of Miramar.”

That icy feeling of dread sinks into his stomach and settles there.  “What?”

“I’d be so jealous, man.”

“Wait, what?”

Fanboy nods in your direction where you stand with Rooster and Bob.  “You haven’t heard the gossip about him?  Yale’s girlfriend��s roommate dated him way back.  Nothing but good things to say about him.  Said he ate the kitty like a starving kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

Jake has always relied on his lightning-fast reflexes, his quick thinking, but Fanboy’s words move through him like tar.  His mind slows down and refuses to grasp the words, and he shakes his head, tries to clear it.

“What?” he breathes out.

“Cafeteria-style, man.  Boy’s well-fed is what I’m saying.”

Jake’s eyes find you, then slide over to Rooster.  The blond man is saying something that makes you smile—

“Bradley?”  Jake says his name and it comes out rough, a growl.  “You talking about Bradley?”

Fanboy elbows him again, unaware of the way Jake’s world is tilting off-axis, the ground slipping from beneath his feet.

“Nah.  I’m talking about Baby on Board.”  Fanboy turns and looks at Jake, takes in the angry flush along his neck, the way his jaw twitches as he clenches his jaw.  “I mean, her and Bob, y’know?  You knew, right?”

Jake doesn’t answer.  He only shifts his gaze a fraction and focuses on Bob.  Bob.  Of all people, Bob.  Jake narrows his eyes and looks at what he has failed to see for months, and he finally notices that you stand an inch closer to the WSO.  He finally notices that Bob’s turned his body a degree towards you, the faintest bit of angling.

“How did you find out?” Jake manages to grit out to Fanboy.

“It wasn’t really a secret, man.  Harvard…”  He trails off, doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Harvard what?”

Fanboy huffs out a breath, clearly uncomfortable.  “Harvard…saw them.  Once.  They were…y’know.  Out by the lifeguard station.”  He takes a step back and holds up his hands in surrender.  “Don’t take it out on us.  We all thought it was cool with you.  That open thing you have going.”

-----

Part of him doesn’t believe it.

Part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

Part of him—a small, conscience-driven part of him—understands that this is the consequences of his actions.  Part of him knows he’s reaping what he sowed.

But part of him doesn’t believe it.

He pulls himself together.  He waves off Fanboy, says he’s just joking around, that everything is fine.  He goes to the bar and orders a shot.  Throws it back.  Takes long, deep breaths and composes himself.

He doesn’t believe it, but belief isn’t proof.

Once he’s calm, he makes his way over to you.  He takes it slow, casual, and he studies your face when you catch sight of him.  You give him a smile, and Jake thinks Fanboy is full of shit.

Jake makes up a lie.  He tells you that he’s found a friend for the evening, but he uses his usual oblique wording to soften the blow of it.

“I’m heading out early,” he says.  “You good to go home alone?”

Your smile falls a little, but you nod.  Rooster, beside you, lets out a displeased grumble.

Bob says nothing at all.

Jake leans in and brushes a kiss against your mouth, and you tell him to be careful, and he replies for you to be careful too.  Then he turns and leaves the Hard Deck…but when he gets in his truck, he only drives it out of the lot and into the shadows of a nearby cross-street.  He has a perfect line of sight to the door of the Hard Deck, but no one would see him unless they knew exactly where in the darkness to look.

It doesn’t take long for Jake to get his proof.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes after he moves, you leave the Hard Deck too.  You’re laughing, your smile is so wide it must hurt your face…and right at your heels stumbling behind you, his hands on your waist as the two of you make your way to the parking lot…

It’s Bob.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon laughs into his mouth and kisses him back easy and eager, and the moment Tim drops his hands off his face he’s looping his arms around his neck–which Tim is very normal about, for the record–and leaning down into him. Tim puts his hands on his hips in return and feels several extremely complicated ways about someone who’s capable of lifting literal construction equipment trusting him with their weight, most of which he’s pretty sure are going to haunt him for the rest of his life, or at least his next four to six months of, uh–personal time. 

. . . he can never, ever be anywhere near any telepath again. Ever. Just ever. 

Or at least for the next four to six months, anyway.

The park really is deserted now, and lit by a couple of streetlights and a bit of bleedover from the street, but not much else. The rest of the streetlights are definitely out, and it looks like there weren’t that many to begin with. The neighborhood isn’t even that bad, really, but it’s Gotham, so Tim’s not surprised. He’s assuming the other skaters were regulars who knew how bad the lighting gets here this late, given most of them cleared out around the same time and how it’s only gotten darker since they did. 

Well, he doesn’t mind the dark, personally, and definitely doesn’t mind the privacy. 

“Sorry,” he says as he leans back from the kiss for a moment, mostly to make sure he doesn’t get carried away with anything. “Didn’t mean to cut you off.” 

“Yeah, you’ll have to make it up to me by doing it some more,” Kon teases, squeezing his arms around his neck for a moment before giving him a peck on the cheek. Tim gives himself three seconds to be a useless mess of goo, then clears his throat and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth in return. Kon grins underneath it, and Tim needs another three seconds to burn alive, then clears his throat again. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and Kon giggles again. Tim really has no idea how he feels about the giggling thing. It’s so cute he wants to throw himself in the harbor, but also he’s weirdly, like–just weirdly aware that it’s just not a thing he’s ever heard Kon do as Robin. Which, yeah, obviously there are several things going on right now that would not be going on with Robin, but still keeps throwing him off. 

Kon’s just . . . like, he’s very clearly the same annoying bastard who’s been driving Robin literally insane every single time Young Justice meets up, but also he’s doing all these things that he’d never normally do and Tim feels like he’s just constantly learning weird little unexpected new tidbits about him, most of them directly targeted to destroy his life. 

And then–one or two less “little” things that are directly targeted to destroy his life in a very different way, but that’s just not something Tim wants to be thinking about while Kon’s grinning and giggling at him and just–like this, he guesses. 

He’ll update his fifteen-year plan after patrol tomorrow, he promises himself. At least take some preliminary notes, anyway. 

“Can you teach me?” Kon asks, and Tim–blinks, trying to figure out what–

“To skate?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah!” Kon says excitedly, and Tim almost reminds him he can literally fly, but can’t really bring himself to in the face of that inexplicable excitement. 

“Um, sure, yeah,” he says. “I can teach you a couple things, maybe.” 

Kon beams at him. Tim, somehow, is still completely unprepared. He thinks Kon just makes it very hard for him to be prepared, somehow.

So that's a weird experience, all things considered.

[cherrycranes]

Dream Girl (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You're Neil's favorite (and only) camgirl and the girl of his dreams, and he finally has a video call with you. Word count: 3,307 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl! Needy Neil, cam sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, fluff! Author's notes: Once again, a collab with @fuckiingloser my beloved. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Underneath there's a Neil playlist I made, the pinterest moodboard to help you visualize this fic and something more! ;)

Neil anxiously stared at the computer screen waiting for it to connect. The circular motions of the loading icon toyed with his impatience. This was serious to him. After selling some old valuable tapes from Gumshoe, he had just enough to pay for a private video call with her: his favorite cam girl, his ultimate dream girl, the one he had been dedicated to watching for the last few months.

He had stumbled upon her in his usual search for porn months ago, in one desperate and lonely night. After closing and closing several porn tabs and profiles, finding absolutely nothing that scratched the right spot for him, he saw her. In all her pink, fluffy, girl-next-door-esque glory. He sat there in complete awe, watching her just smile and laugh, chatting to subscribers and also watching her touch herself… Neil loved it all. From her beautiful hair, her beautiful smile, pretty eyes and perfect body… She had taken over every single thought of his. He became completely hooked since. Generously tipping her, subscribing to her only fans and leaving sweet messages since subscribing.

He couldn’t believe it, after months, he had finally gotten the chance to have a one-on-one call with her. Half of his daydreams and fantasies were about the moment he could talk to her and not just write her his usual nice comments online. He nervously fixed his hair on the reflection of the monitor at the thought. Nothing in this world would let him miss this… Not even the cost. Selling a few of his vintage vhs tapes was not a big deal if it meant he got to see her. 

Neil was positively and undeniably obsessed… Not in the stalker way, of course… He was always respectful. He just had a crush, and a deep yearning to have the chance to take her on a date, get to know her, make her laugh at the very least… His dream girl…

Snapping him out of his thoughts, the screen finally blinked on, making him smile softly when he saw his dream girl pop on the screen.

“Hi there, Neil…” You greeted him with your sensual but sweet voice. You quite liked him as a subscriber. You had seen from his profile that he was only a few years older than you, and from his comments you always knew he was nice, but when you finally saw him appear on your screen you were pleasantly impressed. Neil was much cuter than what you expected him to be. His beautiful pale blue eyes, his soft brown curls, his sweet smile… God help you, he was dreamy…

You sat pretty on your pink fluffy duvet cover on your bed, your laptop was propped right in front of you at the perfect angle, showing your body and lovely face. Neil’s reaction to that image was just delicious, his eyes widened and you moved back a little, revealing the tiny see through pink lingerie set you wore…  At his request, of course. 

From the screen you could tell this already had an effect on him, his cock definitely hardening in his pants and his eyes raking all over you through his monitor. Despite being so used to watching you he still felt weak on the knees. 

“H-hi… you look… so beautiful ...” Neil stuttered just so cutely through his big smile, his usual sweetness shining through. Even when he commented in your livestreams or messaged you he was always a total sweetheart. Most of the other comments you received were well… Vulgar and far too descriptive. That is why Neil always stood out to you, the only one who was actually nice, the one who always tuned into your streams, even the ones where you weren’t naked. He just wanted to see you and hear you talk. 

 “Thank you… You’re too sweet..” You purred to him, smiling and turning around on your knees just to let him see the outfit from the back. Your hand slowly and very sensually ran over your body and the delicate pink lace and flower embroidery of your see-through bra and thong. He watched, completely out of breath. The shape of your ass, the way the lingerie did nothing to hide your charms. He felt himself grow harder.

“Wow…” He whispered, almost dizzy. “You’re perfect…”

Words weren’t enough. “Perfect” didn't even cover just how incredible you were to him. Neil LOVED the dainty, girly lingerie sets you always wore, your all-pink girly room, your innocent eyes, your soft voice. You were the perfect girl next door, the embodiment of all his fantasies combined and presented like a goddess in front of him… And now you were his… Even if it was just for the hour. 

Satisfied with his cute reaction, you sat back down on the bed, smiling softly for the camera.

“You’ve got all of me for an hour… Any special requests?” You asked kindly, charmingly. Neil felt his mind turn to mush for a second, just staring at you for a bit before gathering his thoughts enough to answer. 

“Could you touch yourself and moan my name…  Please?” He asked so softly, your lips curled into a smirk.

“Of course, I can do that. Fingers or a toy?” Your tone was slightly flirty but still very sweet.

“A vibrator… the one you always use…” Neil answered right away, not even thinking about it. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“As you wish..” You smiled and leaned off camera for a second to grab the toy that waited ready for you to use.

“This one?” You came back into frame and, with a cheeky smile on your face, held up the realistic pink dick shaped vibrator.

Neil’s eyes widened a bit in recognition and he nodded with a smile, his hand squeezed his hard on over his pants as he took in the sight of you on the screen. You leaned back against your pretty pink pillows and slowly spread your legs. He shifted closer towards the monitor, lured in by you and the way you gently pulled your sheer panties down your legs and tossed them aside, exposing your pretty little pussy.

It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d seen it… But it was the first time that only him got to see it. He groaned, looking at your perfectly waxed lips reverently. How he wished he could just dive into the screen and magically appear in front of you.

“How do I look?” You asked with a pretty smirk, two gentle fingers spreading your lips apart for him to drool for. His breath hitched a bit and he swallowed hard, fighting his own brain for coherent words.

“You look like a goddess…” He said, almost in awe. “Your pussy is so pretty..” 

You smiled sincerely at his compliment before a motion from your thumb turned the vibrator on. The pink toy slowly and teasingly traveled to your clit, and you moaned instantly when it touched it and made it send waves of pleasure through you. You closed your eyes and Neil kept his wide open, your lips curved into a little smirk before you fulfilled his second request:

“Neil… oh baby… feels so good..” You could have killed him with that breathy moan. He couldn’t contain a groan and his hands couldn’t stop themselves from squeezing his aching cock over his pants. 

When you opened your eyes, you looked at your screen, smiling at the sight.

“You can touch yourself if you want… I wanna see you too…” You cooed to him. 

“Really?” Neil asked, obviously very excited at the thought of both of you getting off together, even if it was through the computer. You nodded with a pretty moan, moving the vibrator against you a bit more. He breathed out, your pussy glistened more and more before his eyes, and for a moment, he savored it in his imagination. His hand took his aching hard on out of his pants and scooted his chair back so you could see all of him. 

Quickly, he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his needy cock, gently groaning at the feeling, imagining it was your pussy instead of his hand. He looked up and saw you watching him with those lovely eyes of yours, he gave himself a few slow pumps.

“Mmm, your cock is so big…” You moan softly, biting your lip as you teased yourself with the toy, enticing the gentle strokes he gave himself.

“Big enough for you?” He asked almost desperately as he jerked off. 

You smiled, gently turning the toy off and sliding it between your wet folds, just teasing yourself with it before finally pushing it in. 

“Mmm… Definitely...” You moaned back to him, and he watched in amazement. You gently pushed the tip of the toy inside you, moaning deliciously as you adjusted around it.

“You wish this was your cock, instead?” You asked him seductively, earning an immediate nod from him. 

“God, yes…” He answered quickly. “I'd literally do anything you wanted of me… I’d-I’d worship you…” 

You moaned again, loudly, his words making you push the dildo in deeper and stretch yourself more.

“Worship me?” Your voice came out sensual, slightly affected by the feeling of the pink toy in you. Neil nodded and groaned, pumping his cock a bit faster.

“Yes... I’d love to kiss you, taste you… make you smile… make you come…” He was beautifully desperate, too fucking sweet. You felt your cheeks at the edge of burning, your hand kept moving, you kept fucking yourself with the dildo.

It was inevitable now, his adoring and genuine praises did something to you, to your wet cunt that only got much more wetter. You arched your back and moaned, never once stopping your hand that held the dildo. 

“More..” You whined to him, needing more of his sweet words. His breathing sped up as his hands worked his cock faster. He was dumbfounded for a split second, but he would never deny you anything.

“I'd spend hours eating your pussy if you let me… I just wanna make you come with my tongue…” He added, his voice a little shaky. 

“Oh fuck..” You moaned loudly, feeling so turned on and getting closer, faster than you expected too… You looked at the screen, seeing him stare at you with those beautiful desperate blue eyes. So, you moved the toy back to your clit and turned it up even higher.

“Neil… I'm gonna come..” You warned him with a loud whine that mixed with the buzzing sound of the vibrator. It was so uncommon for you to even reach this stage so fast, but there was something about his sweet voice, his eyes, his praises… They were doing something to you that you weren’t at all used to…

“Please, come for me…” Neil begged softly, his hand sped up around his cock. “I wanna come with you…” He moaned, shutting his pretty eyes and breathing heavily. 

“Yes... Yes!” You cried out loudly, every muscle of your legs trembled viciously and your clit sent overwhelming waves of pleasure to every last nerve you had. The perfect prelude to an intense, looming orgasm. “Neil…” You moaned needy. 

Neil´s baby blue eyes widened even more, watching you in amazement. With a few more vibrations against your sensitive clit, you came undone just for his eyes to enjoy. Your cry of pleasure sent shivers down his spine and harder pumps to his throbbing, aching cock. Oh, he’d do anything to feel that sweet orgasm of yours happen all around him.

“Fuck, me too.. I’m coming too..” He spoke with  a strained voice, looking right at you and keeping eye contact through the screen. His eager hand jacked him off almost in desperation, massaging his hard cock until reaching an intense abrupt stop. Ropes of his thick white come coated his hand as he let out little groans. His dick twitched and pulsed in his palm and he threw his head back for a moment there. Your eyes studied the scene on your laptop screen detailedly, up until the last little bit of his cum dribbled out.

“Fuuuck..” He groaned softly, he then gave you a satisfied smile. “That was fucking amazing..”.

You giggled a little, his voice was hoarse and just so attractive. You couldn’t agree more with him.

For his eyes, you spread your pussy lips again, proudly showing him the aftermath of what he helped you achieve: your lips glistening with your orgasm. He groaned a bit, his mouth nearly watering.

“I wish I could clean you up with my tongue… I’d give anything for a taste…” He whispered desperately. You bit your lip, it was unbelievable just what this sweet guy did to you.

After a few more breaths, you both sat up and angled your cameras back up to your faces. Neil cleaned himself up on camera, a box of tissues ready on his desk.

“Sorry it happened so fast…” You started to apologize, your mind now clearer and aware that you still had a half hour left for the call, but Neil cut you off before you could finish speaking:

“Please… don’t apologize. That was… Everything to me. Besides… I’d love to just talk too, is that okay?…” He muttered softly.

“Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want…” You answered with slight sheepishness at his sweet words. Still, conversation with Neil just flowed… So naturally… 

“You already know what I do for a living…” You said with a little smirk, his cute laughter resonated from your laptop´s speakers. “What do you do for work?” 

“I actually own a small movie rental store… It's called Gumshoe Video. Been my dream since I was a kid, opened up about 5 years ago now, actually.” Neil answered with a genuine smile, proud of himself. 

“Wow, that's awesome.. I actually love movies, especially older romance movies…” You confessed, and he felt butterflies. You were beautiful AND loved old movies? You really were his dream girl after all. 

“Really?” He asked, a little shocked. You giggled gently.

“Yeah, of course… Brief Encounter is one of my favorites.” You looked at his perfect brown curls through the screen as his mouth turned into a grin. 

 “Wow! Yeah, I love that one! I love David Lean.” He agreed, something deep in his chest fluttering. The more you talked, the more you realized you had more in common than either of you would have ever thought. Talking with him was just so easy, so effortlessly. Neil was just as sweet talking face-to-face as he was online.

“Can I ask where you're from?” He said shyly, not knowing if that’s crossing the line or not. Understandable nervousness stirs in you.

“I usually don’t disclose that kind of information to anyone…” You started and received a pleasant little surprise when you saw Neil nodding in acceptance softly. But before he could speak you felt your gut just telling you to say it. “I live in Chicago.” You suddenly blurted out. 

You watched his eyes widen a bit.

“Chicago?” Neil whispered to himself softly. “I-I’m in the Chicago suburbs!” 

Your eyes widened too, the revelation feeling just right. He was so close to you this whole time and you didn’t even know it…

“Wow..” You whispered, a little shocked at the news. “Small world i guess…” You smiled and Neil laughed a bit.

“No kidding.” He agreed. The girl he’s been pining after and thinking about for months… Practically neighbors with him. 

There was an awkward silence for a second as you both processed the information. Finally, he spoke:

“I'd love to possibly take you on a date sometime… If you’d be okay with it, that is… Just want to treat you like a princess... We wouldn’t have to have sex or anything…”  He rambles just so cutely. You really considered it. Butterflies flew in your stomach. Most men only saw you as a sex object, something they could use and move on from. Neil wasn’t that kind of guy, that was obvious. He was kind and thoughtful. You had never even considered ever wanting to meet someone from only fans… Until today… Until Neil. 

Your beautiful glossy lips almost uttered the word “yes”... But suddenly, you decided against it. You felt a little bad when you saw his face fall a bit at your decline, but you had to watch out for yourself. Though he was bummed, he understood.

“Of course, I understand completely… Maybe we could have another private session? I’d really love to talk again…” Neil adapted the goalposts for your comfort, his sweet innocent eyes making you melt. You smiled, and decided to accept. The grin returned to his handsome face.

“I'll have to sell some things but I'll be good…  Maybe next week? Same day and same time?” He said enthusiastically and your smile fell a bit. Guilt crept back on you. He was selling things just to pay to speak to you. No, you wouldn't let this be. 

Despite the fact that it had just been one call, you felt more for him, more than you ever thought you would. You usually had no problem taking men’s money but with him… It just felt wrong. You felt terrible. 

“No, please don’t do that…” You stopped him, he furrowed his brow a bit in confusion. “Next one's on me because I finished so early this time…” It was an excuse, yes, but one that seemed to work well enough so he wouldn't have to sell his possessions just to see you. 

“Really?” He asked softly, seeming a little shocked by your words. “It's really no problem… I don't want to take advantage of you… I know it’s your job…” He whispered, giving you those perfect sweet eyes that made you melt once again.

“Really.” You told him, completely sure of your decision. “I promise” And you reassured him with a soft smile. Neil´s smirk grew. 

“Thank you so much… I'd just like to see you again... Maybe talk more about movies too, hopefully?” he asked softly, gentle excitement in his voice. You blushed a little bit. God, he’s sweet. 

“I'd like that!” You agreed with a soft smile, a casual glance to the time on your laptop made you notice that you had reached a little over an hour on the call. “Well… I'll see you next week then, Neil…Bye bye!” You said softly, looking at him through the screen and giving him a little wave. 

“Goodbye, beautiful…  Sleep well.” Neil said so genuinely it made your heart burst a little. He gave you a soft wave and you smiled in return. The video call finally ended and you let out a deep sigh, feeling all kinds of emotions.

As the call ended on his end and the screen went back to black, Neil smiled to himself, feeling happier and more excited than he has in a long time. Now that he knew he would see you again next week, just like he did tonight… It made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He went to bed that night still reeling, replaying it all in his mind over and over. Finally, he set his phone down and settled into bed. A movie played for background noise as he tried to relax, even if the image of your beautiful face kept him awake and so painfully aware of just how much he needed you. It was then when his phone pinged with a notification from his bank:

 $800.00 USD refunded to checking account.

Under it, there was a message reading: 

“I enjoyed myself as much as you did… I’ll see you next week Neil, can’t wait…” 

It was from you. His jaw dropped a bit in disbelief. This was only the beginning…

Pinterest moodboard to help you visualize, made by @fuckiingloser the queen herself!

Neil Lewis playlist made by me!

Part 2... (coming soon) ;)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fever

Fever - any body temperature elevation over 100°F (37.8°C).

How long a fever lasts and how high it may go depends on several factors, including its cause, the age of the patient, and overall health.

Most fevers caused by infections are acute:

appearing suddenly and then

dissipating as the immune system defeats the infectious agent.

An infectious fever may also: rise and fall throughout the day, reaching its peek in the late afternoon or early evening.

A low-grade fever that lasts for several weeks - is associated with autoimmune diseases such as lupus or with some cancers, particularly leukemia and lymphoma.

A fever requires emergency treatment under the following circumstances:

newborn (three months or younger) with a fever higher than 100.5°F (38°C)

infant or child with a fever higher than 103°F (39.4°C)

fever accompanied by severe headache, neck stiffness, mental confusion, or severe swelling of the throat

A very high fever in a small child can trigger seizures (febrile seizures) and therefore should be treated immediately. A fever accompanied by the listed symptoms can indicate the presence of a serious infection, such as meningitis, and should be brought to the immediate attention of a physician.

A healthy person’s body temperature fluctuates between 97F (36.1°C) and 100°F (37.8°C), with the average being 98.6°F (37°C).

The body maintains stability within this range by balancing the heat produced by the metabolism with the heat lost to the environment.

The ‘‘thermostat’’ that controls this process is located in the hypothalamus, a small structure located deep within the brain.

The nervous system constantly relays information about the body’s temperature to the thermostat, which in turn activates different physical responses designed to cool or warm the body, depending on the circumstances.

These responses include: decreasing or increasing the flow of blood from the body’s core, where it is warmed, to the surface, where it is cooled; slowing down or speeding up the rate at which the body turns food into energy (metabolic rate); inducing shivering, which generates heat through muscle contraction; and inducing sweating, which cools the body through evaporation.

Physicians agree that the most effective treatment for a fever is to address its underlying cause, such as through the administration of antibiotics.

Also, because a fever helps the immune system fight infection, it usually should be allowed to run its course.

Drugs to lower fever (antipyretics) can be given if a patient (particularly a child) is uncomfortable. These include:

aspirin,

acetaminophen (Tylenol), and

ibuprofin (Advil).

Aspirin, however, should not be given to a child or adolescent with a fever since this drug has been linked to an increased risk of Reye’s syndrome.

Bathing a patient in cool water can also help alleviate a high fever.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Realistic Injuries

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to my overall taglist please let me know - I am no longer creating individual fic taglists though. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs. Tag lists are a bit funky at the moment, so I recommend following me or my fic account @thelightsandtheroses-fics (you can enable notifications for that account) if you want to ensure you're up to date

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[userautumn]

not to romanticize the grotesque but stalker!buck stalking his ex and breaking into his house while tommy is on shift and sniffing his post-workout boxers and jerking off on tommy's bed and wearing his clothes and doing everything he can to cover himself in tommy's smell so when he's alone later, he can still smell him on his skin. meanwhile, tommy thinks he's going crazy because it's been six months since they broke up so why the fuck does his jacket still smell like buck even after it's just come out of the wash? it's weird and makes him feel insane, like he's either broken his own heart so severely he started hallucinating, or like he's losing track of time and it really hasn't been six months and he just thinks it has because being without him feels like an eternity. both of these fears are fears he cannot articulate for fear of being pulled off his job and thrown into therapy but they both disturb him and fill him with longing. he almost hopes he's hallucinating because at least then he'll be closer to buck in his grief-addled imagination than he is in real life. because that's a completely normal response.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again no problem 11/26/2024

i don't have a good anecdote this week, i have the flu. look at my cat

listening

ty @shinygoodrock for the rec! billy bragg's the marching song of the covert. i was startled by the british accent but briefly forgot the uk's been colonizing way longer than god's favorite country, the usa

so SO cheery and so catchy! samples When The Ants Go Marching In!

Here we come with our candy and our guns And our corporate muscle marches in behind us For freedom's just another word for nothing left to sell And if you want narcotics we can get you those as well

it reminds me a lot of this poster i have framed but not hung up yet, jesse purcell's "A.G.F.T.P.O.T.U.S.O.A. (A Gift From The People Of The United States Of America)" (getcher own print at the link through justseeds)

-

reading

my favorite tinned fish newsletter is back! i like this newsletter for its dry anecdotal voice, but i coincidentally have a tin of mackerel in tomato sauce in the pantry for mackintosh name reasons. seems like the best way to have it is fairly plain with some light seasonings. the author was a senior editor at vice and has been out of work for a bit since that site's collapse, so it's good to see him back doing silly free nonsense like his tinned fish newsletter

i had Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis on hold for nearly six months so it extra hurt when i didn't particularly care for it.

like, what a premise! a beautifully written blurb that got my attention! i think i got an ad for this one on instagram. either that or it was floating around on this site.

A sharp-witted, high fantasy farce featuring killer moat squid, toxic masculinity, evil wizards and a garlic festival - all at once. Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, K. J. Parker and Travis Baldree. It’s bad enough waking up in a half-destroyed evil wizard’s workshop with no eyebrows, no memories, and no idea how long you have before the Dread Lord Whomever shows up to murder you horribly and then turn your skull into a goblet or something. It’s a lot worse when you realize that Dread Lord Whomever is… you. Gav isn’t really sure how he ended up with a castle full of goblins, or why he has a princess locked in a cell. All he can do is play along with his own evil plan in hopes of getting his memories back before he gets himself killed. But as he realizes that nothing – from the incredibly tasteless cloak adorned with flames to the aforementioned princess – is quite what it seems, Gav must face up to all the things the Dread Lord Gavrax has done. And he’ll have to answer the hardest question of all – who does he want to be? Dread Lord Gavrax has had better weeks.

this is a debut novel based on a friendgroup's DnD campaign, and it does show a bit. maybe you have a friend who’s freshly into improv? it gets a little wrapped up in Doing Bits. at several points i did think “i could be reading terry pratchett right now instead of enduring this bit.”

the writing itself is solid on a technical level-- there's a good balance of dialogue to description, no word choices really slammed me in the face, it flowed pretty nicely and was a fast read. flounders a bit in the middle but does pick up speed, a middling-okay pacing. if this were not a debut novel and felt a little bit more done on purpose i would be interested in talking about how the frantic lunge from plot point to plot point mirrors our protag's internal sense of self.

i do not think this rises to the level of farce, or even pastiche. it is a darkly comedic but fairly straightforward fantasy. very light PG romance elements.

so much of it is concerned with perceptions/expectations/visual tropes and then the big baddie is simply a baddie with no further interrogation. like a lot A LOT of philosophical musings on the nature of evil and the expectations thereof creating self image and morality and has unionized goblins. everything else in this book is questioned. you can’t go halfway with a deconstruction or you’re just writing more of the genre you’re trying to deconstruct. there was a scene that really clicked satisfyingly in my brain with a female sorceress, where she goes basically everyone expects me to be a bitch and a whore so let's just cut to the chase and have fun being a bitch and a whore. this alternate viewpoint of misogyny making you evil does not successfully contrast with our protag's internal calibration and view of evil but damn if that isn't the experience of being a woman in stem.

the protagonist, gav, wakes up with No memories and thereby becomes Good. or at least Better. does rozakis feel that everyone is born good and your reactions to things happening to you shape your morality? there's a reveal that one of the murders amnesiac!gav is most torn up about didn't actually happen bc his staff faked it and smuggled her out. i think this seriously undercuts the moderate amount of thinking and soulsearching and figuring out how to atone for past actions he does previously. and then it doesn’t really address any of the problems it tangled with in favor of a movie ending. it did tread a bit into therapyspeak for me. fewer shades of gray than i would have liked.

this book is also extremely heterosexual for what i expect a modern comedy fantasy to be. it neatly sidesteps the gay=/= evil conundrum but it was startling to find our protagonist with not even a curious homosexual thought.

occasionally irritating, but it was funny, except when it had to unfold some plot and forgot about being funny. this was a perfectly pleasantly written debut novel but wasn’t quite what i wanted or expected. it tries a lot of things and it’s interesting to watch the rube goldberg machine of a plot work and fail in some parts, even if it really did not carry through on its central philosophy.

-

watching

breezing through a lot of stuff bc it's easier to sleep propped up on my couch arm than in my actual bed. i usually don’t long DNFs but has to remind myself never to try Quo Vadis again. my god is that a tiresome film. and not even pretty costumes or pretty set design for the first forty minutes. whereupon i bailed. all of these were first time watches, dunno why I haven’t been reaching for comfort movies lately

-

playing

genshin update knocking it out of the park and also really reminding me of link tearsofthekingdom. also introduces a really good bird you can possess and fly around with. lots of vertical sky/coastline exploration which is so so so fun. i have done most of the things in this update inside a week bc i don't think they anticipated unemployed people like mainlining it between applying for jobs.

this girl's village has background music that reminds me of classic american westerns like bernstein or copland? heavy billy the kid ballet vibes. the music in this update is SO good im excited to yell about it in an future week when they drop the next album.

-

making

still fallow baybee. currently incubating the influenza. no longer feverish thank u nyquil

[eretzyisrael]

Six months ago, someone painted a large Palestinian flag along with anti-Israel graffiti on the wall of the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast.

The message says "Stop the genocide. Stop "Israeli" terror. From the river to the sea Palestine will be free! BDS IPSC"

The local Jewish community is frightened and do not want to go to a hospital with such a message. It is clearly inflammatory and upsetting, not to mention illegal.

It is still there.

Why hasn't the hospital removed it? 

That's what the Democratic Union Party's Diane Dodds  asked Belfast Trust Chief Executive Maureen Edwards.  "My understanding is that it has been there for almost six months. In the interests of a health service that's available and open and everyone is welcome to that health service, it is a bit appalling that we have waited six months to get rid of antisemitic graffiti," Dodds noted.Edwards answered that they approached several contractors to sandblast off the graffiti - something that would take at most a couple of hours - but they all refused. 

Not because they disagree that the graffiti is antisemitic.

Because they are fearful as to what the pro-Hamas BDS antisemites would do to them if they erased the message.

This is terrorism, pure and simple.  And Ireland appears to be OK with it, as long as the only people hurt are Jews. 

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

So how do you think Harry's kids got here? Do you think a surrogate was used? Do you think a donor egg and/or sperm was used?

I'm of the opinion a surrogate was used for both kids and that they might not be 100% their biological children. I know some people say Archie looks like August and Lili from her photo when she was one years old is supposed resemble the late Queen at that age. But people often see what they want when deciding who kids look like and kids can look like different people as their faces change.

You could go to any school in multiple countries and find a kid who looks just like Archie and we don't know what Lili looks like because whenever she's been "papped" the person apparently used the worse camera ever and their specially is blurry photos.

More importantly for me the question is why the BRF have played along is it just because they were afraid of being called racist if they said Archie isn't eligible to be in the line of succession? Do they not actually know whether a surrogate was used or do they simply not care?

For Harry and Meghan they should have been open about using a surrogate. They would have received so much support, there would be the conversation about whether people should use surrogates but the majority of the UK would've supported their decision to have a family. Funny thing is it would've made their kids special and got them the attention they wanted. Hiding all the details about the kids has resulted in no one caring about them or having any connection to them.

I would like the truth to be publicly known even it causes problems for the BRF. You won't generally find me defending members of the British aristocracy but if they have to adhere to the succession laws then so should members of the BRF.

I shared my thoughts on this several months ago (sometime between February - May 2024) but I haven't been able to dig that post up. I'll repeat what I said here but I will not be discussing this topic any futher after this gets posted.

What I said several months ago still remains true: Sometimes I think it was a gestational surrogate. Other times I think she really did carry Archie.

On the gestational surrogacy: Their story of Archie's birth, as told via Spare, gives me extraordinary pause because medically, none of what Harry says happened is/was possible. The lack of detail and/or sob story from Meghan also gives me pause. Consider the way she shouted from the mountaintops about her miscarriage in the New York Times. Now consider how silent she's been about her traumatic birth with Archie (according to Harry) or about how California's COVID protocols during her pregnancy with Lili may have affected her mental health. I specifically point out the latter because most of the women I know who were pregnant and/or gave birth between March 2020 - Summer 2021 talked a whole [fork] ton about the COVID protocols in place that made pregnancy an awfully lonely experience. Additionally, Meghan's desire for privacy on these experiences contradict her usual preference to compete with and/or one-up Kate. Since we know Kate had difficult pregnancies, we expect Meghan to either claim she had it worse (which Archie's traumatic birth as described by Harry in Spare definitely is, since KP's reports of the three Cambridge births were "textbook and uneventful") or her pregnancy was so easy, so straightforward, so textbook, so uneventful that she was literally a goddess of pregnancy. But yet Meghan has remained suspiciously silent, even when she's doing her "as the momest mom to ever mom" PR.

On the "Meghan really carried Archie" side: I have a cousin who's as thin as Meghan was pre-Archie, right down to the ankles that could snap. Like Meghan, my cousin's only weight gain during both of her pregnancies was in her belly/baby bump. So I know it's possible for some women to gain no weight but the baby bump. And second, Meghan did gain weight during her third trimester - she was noticeably fuller in her face at the Windsor presentation and had a noticeably fuller body at Trooping and Wimbledon and appeared to struggle losing the weight until spring 2022/Platinum Jubilee. We know that Meghan is incredibly vain to where she wouldn't have gained all that extra weight without good reason - after all, she made Trevor sign a pre-pregnancy contract listing her demands / requirements to get her body back should they have a baby.

Now to your questions:

is why the BRF have played along is it just because they were afraid of being called racist if they said Archie isn't eligible to be in the line of succession? Do they not actually know whether a surrogate was used or do they simply not care?

I've already covered this here. I think you can find it under the surrogacy tag. So I won't go into too much here.

My theory for why the BRF played along is because they didn't know there was a surrogate until it was too late and by then, they were already trapped in the scheme so they had no choice but to go along. Presenting their schemes as faint accompli has been Sussex MO for a very long time, with no one developing a spine until they demanded to commercialize the monarchy.

My theory for why the BRF continues to play along is because Charles is somehow involved and/or implicated and that truth coming out would lead to a scandalously huge lapse in confidence that could only be reconciled by his abdication to William. Charles has waited too long to be top dog to let anything get in his way and I suspect that we'll only find out the truth (or even a partial truth) if Clarence House finds a way to untangle Charles from it.

As I said at the beginning of this post, I won't be discussing this anymore and will not be posting any asks resulting from this. You're free to discuss in comments or reblogs, though.

[zylian]

day 4 (lost track of time whoops-)

animals/objects: rumoured cryptic au !

vampire mapic lives in a creaky house just on the outskirts of a village, most villagers are told to stay away from him as he usually visits town to restock on his food blood supply by slaughtering unfortunate villagers who stayed outside a bit too long but recently a rumour has been going around

the merciless vampire who haunts the village at night has been seen carrying a bucket of water around causing confusion among the villagers

the rumours slowly became facts and over several months mapic was seen always holding a bucket of water, even when eating or taking a scroll and setting it down before going for a kill

new rumours started up saying the bucket was speaking which confused the villagers more, that is until a villager saw a yellow creature jump from the bucket and watched the vampire run in circles chasing after it, scold the little guy as the creature complained about being too excited than get tossed back in the bucket with a death threat if it ran again

the villagers never got an answer, the only rumour left was whoever heard the axolotl speak had death awaiting them

mapic who usually kills and stores away blood for his meals had found zam, a talking axolotl in his backyard, he immediately tried to kill it but the axolotl told him his blood would be cold and not tasty, since mapic was in a good mood that day he decided to talk with the creature

zam was VERY talkative and for mapic who has been alone for centuries he found the guy entertaining and decided to keep him around, even giving the yellow axolotl a tiny crown to wear

aka mapic murders the villagers for blood, for fun and for finding out about his little buddies existence who can not stop talking

[ts-critsfander]

I have seen multiple posts from fanders saying "Thomas doesn't deserve all the hate." To which I have to say-GET A GRIP AND ACTUALLY LEARN WHAT HE'S DONE.

Underpaid Brei

Brei was the main person who designed merch yet received no royalties until recently. To quote her "royalties were something I requested for several years while working there and was consistently told no." Thomas tried to cover the whole thing up and just said she wasn't going to be on the team anymore. As of now he hasn't addressed this.

Refuses to Communicate

Thomas has delayed the Sanders Sides finale for years now. He said it would come out in 2023 and the public received 0 updates until December 27th where he said the year just didn't work out for him. Even now the non finale episode has been delayed for months now and only Patreon receives updates that aren't even regular. They just drop at random dates weeks or months apart.

Sent Fans After People

On numerous occasions Thomas has responded to critiques from random accounts. On multiple occasions he's directly responded to people on X just saying they miss Sanders Sides or posts that aren't even critiques. A couple of months ago he posted a private message from a person on Instagram of them asking something along the lines of "When are you gonna make more Sanders Sides?". Since he posted a screenshot of said message and didn't hide their username in any capacity he made it easy for fans to find their account and DM them. Fanders have a history of sending death threats.

These points aren't just mindless hate. Brei deserved to be properly paid, fans deserve transparently ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY PAY FOR UPDATES/CONTENT, and people deserve to speak their mind without fear of being targeted by a large creator and their fanbase. Don't get me wrong I've seen posts that are just hating or meaningless nitpicking but there's genuine things Thomas deserves to be called out for and held accountable for. He's not your innocent white boy content creator, he's an almost 40 year old man who continues to mistreat people around him no matter their proximity.

[svsssfanonarchive]

ANNOUNCEMENT: SVSSS Fanon Archive, Grand Reopening 2025

After several months of hiatus and a lot of stress on my part, I'm going to officially be revamping and reworking this blog, hopefully in a way that resolves some of the issues with the previous version and makes things a bit more streamlined.

What to Expect:

Changes to post format will be a big one, as well as an actual schedule for posting. The ranking system will be simplified and updated. Additionally, in line with the url update, there will be some changing to the way things are worded throughout the blog.

When to Expect It:

I'll slowly be working on the changes as I have time and energy, but my hope is to have the reworked SV Fanon Archive blog ready to go by the beginning of 2025.

More details about specific changes below:

The Biggest Change: Tone

When I first made this blog, I tried to take a sort of humorously-disparaging tone as an homage to our beloved 绝世黄瓜 (Peerless Cucumber), which is reflected in the tone of the blog intro and pinned post. Since then, I've come to realize that there are a decent number of people to whom the humorous nature is lost, who see this blog and think that the intention is to stir up fandom wank-- and while most of these people understand after explanation, I've decided to try to limit that misconception to begin with.

That is why I've implemented a title and url change on this blog-- I was primarily thinking of rhythm and humor when I chose the original name and theme of "Fanon Exposed," but it turns out that the word "exposed" has a more negative connotation than I originially assumed, which misrepresented the stance I wished to take on this blog. Because of that, I will be updating the blog title, intro, and making a new pinned post that hopefully is more clear in terms of tone, to prevent any more knee-jerk reactions.

In my posts, I'm not trying to stand on a high horse or present a "gotcha," but genuinely look at and analyze the novel and share information that fans may have forgotten or missed or mixed up through engaging with the established fandom, and to figure out where certain ideas come from.

In addition to these changes, I will be updating existing posts to remove the "Fanon Exposed" tagline, and instead simply titling them as the topic they discuss, with a rating below the title.

That brings me to the next change:

Streamlined Rating System

I realized as I wrote for this blog that sometimes it was very difficult to decide where to sort a topic between supported, neutral, unsupported. Sometimes, a topic didn't fit cleanly into one of the categories, or the assigned category was far more subjective than was useful. Since I want the ratings to be more of a first-glance understanding of topics, I'm going to be changing the way that I rate the posts as follows:

CANON - There is direct support for the claim within the novel itself. Depending on the topic, things that are canon via MXTX's interviews may also be sorted this way, but the revised version of the novel (the version that was published by pinsin studios and subsequently used for the 7seas translation) will be the main determiner of canon.

FANON - There is no direct support for the claim within the novel, BUT there is also nothing that says it is not true. This encompasses what would have been considered unsupported, neutral, AND supported in the old ranking-- anything that is not canon to the novel, but not refuted either.

CONFLICTING FANON - There is evidence within the novel that directly refutes this claim. Claims such as "Luo Binghe was not abused" or "Yue Qingyuan frequently calls Shen Qingqiu 'Xiao-Jiu'" will fall into this category-- either things that have a directly stated contradiction, or a very strongly implied contradiction within the novel.

AMBIGUOUS - New rating, for claims where they are still not especially clear where they lie on the canon-fanon scale. For any "ambiguously" rated subject, further analysis and viewpoints are especially welcomed (though they are still welcomed on other ratings), with the goal being to sort as many such posts into an official category as possible, or alternately to provide as many potentially-accurate viewpoints as fans are willing to share. This is also to further delineate this blog as a fanon archive, and a more aggregate source of meta posting.

Important note: Because SVSSS has been unlocked on JJWXC and is being edited, I will be waiting for more information about that and for the edits to be finished before deciding whether to take the new version or the older version as canon, or to compare and contrast them. I don't yet know how much will be changed, whether the story will change significantly or whether it is more of a matter of editing to appease the censors, so for that we will have to wait and see.

Posting Schedule

Before, I never really had a schedule for my posts, and sometimes put out one each day, or one a week. Now, I have many things I'm working on and am not so deep into SVSSS fandom as I was before, though still interested in both the novel and this blog. Instead of posting more frequently and sporadically, I will try to maintain a fixed schedule of one new fanon post per month, to be posted on the first day of the month. This doesn't necessarily include other types of original meta posts (such as "Canon Examined" posts or simple ask answers), which will not have a distinctive schedule and will come out when I feel like working on them or have the time to do so.

Which brings me to...

Blog Content and New Post Types

So far on this blog, I've had two types of post: "Fanon Exposed" and "Canon Examined." In the reworked blog, these posts will continue to exist, though slightly reworked, but I also hope to include more additional meta written by others via reblog. Going forward, all of the posts on this blog will be sorted into the following types and tagged as such:

#FANON ANALYSIS - The original post type, formerly "Fanon Exposed," in which a fanon or presumed fanon is measured up against the novel's text, analyzed, and rated. These posts will have a fixed format in the future, with hopefully clearer delineations between which parts are canonical and which are my own more subjective analysis. Any topic for Fanon Analysis will be one that was sent in via the askbox. These posts will simply be titled as "[CLAIM BEING ANALYZED]". More on the updated format later.

#CANON EXAMINED - A more in-depth look at a topic in canon (for example, my piece on the pre-canon PIDW timeline). This type of post will not have a fixed format, and should be taken as primarily a personal analysis and interpretation rather than a delineation of canon vs fanon-- but within these posts I will always include as many quotes and sources as possible to still make it clear what is from the text and what is my interpretation. These posts will be titled as "Canon Examined: [TOPIC]" and may or may not be topics that have been sent to the askbox. There will be no fixed schedule for these posts, and I will make them as the inspiration strikes.

#QUICK QUESTIONS - Any small question sent to my inbox that doesn't warrant a full analysis post, or doesn't quite fall in line with the previous two categories. These will be answered directly from the inbox, rather than posted separately. A lot of these might involve various cultural details or translation questions-- I will answer these to the best of my ability. I am Chinese (Originally from Mainland), but due to various life circumstances, I've ended up with a certain disconnect from my native language and culture. Though I am working to bridge that gap personally, I am not completely confident or comfortable to be considered some sort of consummate cultural authority. I'll provide the answers I know to the best of my ability, but welcome further extrapolation or explanation from others less disconnected than I, and cannot guarantee that I will answer all questions of this sort. This also applies to other types of post.

#MYRIAD PERSPECTIVES - This is where the "archive" role of this blog really starts to come in. This tag will be for reblogged meta written by others. However, I will be very, very selective as to which meta I reblog, which must meet the following requirements:

Canonicity claims MUST be sourced, with relevant quotes included within the body of the post. The post cannot just say "The Mobei Clan have hereditary ice powers" if that claim is a significant part of the analysis, but must also include the quote from the Holy Mausoleum chapter that verifies it.

Cultural claims MUST be indicated that they come from someone within Chinese culture, or otherwise be linked to sources that confirm the claim. I'll reference these against my own knowledge (and CNet as well where possible), but I can't claim to know or be completely sure about everything. The idea here is to provide accurate and thorough information that can be verified by any reader, rather than asking readers to take things at face value.

Translation/Linguistic claims MUST be accompanied by a complete, detailed analysis of the passage both in the original and translated text. A post can't just say "the idea of Shen Yuan being sickly is due to a mistranslation and author's note," but must also include the passage in the original chinese, the author's not in question, and an explanation of the phrase 混吃等死 and its connotations. Again, I will reference these against my own knowledge and CNet where I can, but unless the translation and error is fully analyzed and explained, I won't be reblogging the post.

In general, for me to reblog a meta post to this blog, it should be in as much detail, and as thorough as one of my own posts. These requirements also apply to any correction or debate added to my posts. I will not respond to refutions that do not source their claims.

Due to time constraints, I will not usually be seeking out meta posts to reblog myself. If one happens to cross my dash, I may reblog it here, but if you find a piece of particularly good meta that falls in line with these requirements, please send a link to the post via my inbox. Please DO NOT tag me in a reblog or reply on the post. Reblog recommendations must be sent through the askbox for me to have a look at them.

#FANDOM EVENT - This category of post has nothing to do with meta or analysis, but rather, due to this blog's substantial following, I am more than happy to signal-boost fandom events. These include exchanges, zines, group projects, fans looking for collaboration, etc. as well as any significant fandom news. Preferably, send a link to the post or news to my askbox to have me reblog it-- but I will also reblog event and announcement posts if i am tagged in them. Fandom events MUST be SVSSS centric, or mxtx/danmei/cnovel centric in general where SVSSS is relevant in some way for me to reblog them.

#FIC SEARCH - Another category that does not involve meta or analysis. I am willing to post asks that involve searching for a specific fic in order to use this blog's reach to help fans find what they are searching for. I will limit these fic searches to one per week, however, so as not to flood this blog. If sending in a fic search, please start your ask with "Fic Search:" before describing the fic (so that I can easily search my very very full inbox to find fic search asks). All fics being searched for must be SVSSS fics, or SVSSS crossovers.

These will be the main/only types of post on this blog going forward. Once in awhile, I might use it to promo my own things for the sake of reach, which will be tagged as "#off-topic posts" for easy blacklisting. I will not be reblogging or posting any non-fandom asks, donation drives (aside from (rarely) my own), or current-events topics on this blog, both because I don't have the time or energy to see if things are legit, and because this is meant to be a fandom space away from real-world issues.

And finally...

The Fanon Analysis Post Reformatting

This is something that I've noticed and had issues with in the past-- while I try to keep my analysis more objective wherever possible, there are necessarily parts of my posts which are "my interpretation" rather than a distinctive, fully-objective answer. While any analysis I post here is informed by canon or other factors rather than being mere headcanon, it is still subjective by nature, and whether readers take or leave my interpretation is up to them.

I'm not going to stop adding my own analysis to my posts-- but I am going to try to make it easier to divide direct canon statements from my own interpretations.

The old "Fanon Exposed" posts didn't really have a set format of any sort, and tended to be a bit rambling-- and while that can flow nicely, it can also muddy the waters for those looking for a quick explanation. So, from here on out I will be using a distinctive format for every fanon analysis post:

<above the cut>

Title

Ranking

"What does the text say?" - relevant quotes, with very limited analysis or explanation where necessary. Essential translation details will also be included here if specifically relevant to the topic, otherwise they will appear later. Sometimes, for posts rated "fanon" especially, there will not be any reference in the text-- in that case, any adjacent notes will be included (for example, in a post about Shen Jiu having a sweet tooth, there is no reference to that specific claim in the text-- however, there are some details about Shen Yuan's snacking habits as Shen Qingqiu, which will be included in this section for the sake of relevancy, discussion, and clarity). If I miss an important quote or passage on something here, please tell me in a reblog or reply, so that I can add it to the post!

<below the cut>

"My interpretation" - where I analyze the quotes provided and make connections for myself-- striving for "informed interpretation" rather than headcanon, but not "distinct canon" by any means. Take it or leave it. More important translation details will go here, and if a reader wants to provide an alternate perspective, this is the part that would be debated.

"Fun Facts" - Small details that have little to do with a claim's canonicity or fanon analysis, but I thought would be neat to include anyway. Often little details that may have been missed (see my post on Mobei-jun's blue eyes for this, where I bring up the chrysoberyl/cat's eye stone and what that might mean) or small cultural references. Typically, just a fact that is adjacent to the actual topic or claim being made that I include because it might be interesting to know.

"Headcanon Ideas" - Now this is where "my own headcanons" come in. Nothing here needs to be considered canon in any way whatsoever-- see for example my post on heavenly demons' zuiyin (erroneously called "huadian") and the idea that demons might wear similar ornamentation as a sort of reference to the real-life presumed origin of huadian. This is not canon at all, but simply a headcanon suggestion/in-universe explanation for fanon at most or a fun idea at best. Anyone is welcome to use these little ideas with or without credit, but you can also completely disregard them as well, and they shouldn't be considered part of canon.

Every post might not have all of these parts (especially the "fun facts" and "headcanon ideas" sections), but I intend to keep to the basic structure at least. That way, everything that directly involves "canon" is at the top, above the cut and easily readable to allow readers to make a decision based on their own readings, with a descending "relevance to canonicity" as you go down the post if you're interested in my specific take, interpretation, and ideas.

I may be reformatting/rewriting some of my old posts in this format as well-- for the most part, it will simply be an edit to the old post, but if there are substantial updates or changes to the overall rating and interpretation, I may make a new post instead.

Conclusion

Those are all the major changes I intend to put in place here, unless I'm forgetting one or two details. Hopefully, this blog will be better for it-- but I'm interested in any feedback anyone might have on these updates, or things I may have missed. Feel free to comment on this post if you have something to say-- and I look forward to the reopening!

[sergeifyodorov]

I know 4 nations is still a couple of months away but if you specifically were the gm choosing the roster right now, what would your team Canada look like? (I am also curious about the other teams but don’t want to overwhelm you) I always love hearing your hockey thoughts!

ooh sarahhhh LOVE this q... also lowkey thank u for only asking about Canada b/c i have not thought about the other rosters at all. to be honest

ok lets get into it

(13 F, 7 D, 3 G)

Forwards:

Already named to the roster: Sidney Crosby, Nathan MacKinnon, Brad Marchand, Connor McDavid, Brayden Point

I'm not entirely sure if I had complete control I would pick Marchand, who is both a) pretty far past his prime (even if he is one of those guys who doesn't really age like other players do) and b), not entirely That guy, but I digress. Eight more forwards to name.

Mitch Marner: Easily the best Canadian player not on this list. Since there's no salary cap for the roster and you can go wild by just picking Everyone Good, the most important note of roster construction in my mind is special teams; on any given team you should have ~2 units each of PP and PK, so eight-ish PP forwards and four-ish PK forwards. Some guys don't really do either, so it's always an extra asset to find a guy who is good at both. Mitch Marner is good at both. (And also good at basically everything else.)

Sam Reinhart: I don't like saying it, but I will

Mark Schiefele: I also don't like saying it

Dylan Strome: Here's where it gets interesting. No, I promise this is not a purely narrative choice, although I understand why one might think that. I shrimply love me a smart playmaking centre (yes his points totals are probably inflated by the Caps' really high oish% for him, but he is firmly Very Good and, even as a 4C, should be firmly considered for the 4N.)

Travis Konecny: Legitimately one of the best penalty killers in the league, and also just an all-around threat. Also also a lot of the guys who tend to be picked for 4N are natural centres (e.g. Sidney, NateMac, CMD, Pointer, Reinhart, Schiefele, and Strome are all centres) so it's nice to not have to worry in his case about if he's going to have to move to wing or not.

Connor Bedard: Oh my god I want to see what this kid can do with offensive deployment on wing and actual good teammates

John Tavares: Departing from my usual "don't pick players who are floating into their mid-thirties if you can possibly avoid it" to say that Guys. Johnnifer is still Good. Like, still really good. Chugging along at a point a game and very, very good in the faceoff dot (58%) type of good.

Seth Jarvis: Also firmly underrated IMHO; just because he is a little guy and a bit of a dork doesn't mean we shouldn't, like, remember that He's Good. Because he is.

Reserves: Steven Stamkos (always a power-play threat), Mat Barzal (competent teammates question part 2), Claude Giroux (we all know what his deal is)

Defencemen:

Already named to the roster: Cale Makar

Oh, boy, are we not great at this whole "developing defencemen" thing. Let's see who we can put together.

Josh Morrissey: Basically Morgan Rielly but a little better, I think? Solid shooter, Of-D, etc etc.

Thomas Chabot: Severely undernoticed considering that the Sens have been shit and ass the entire time he's played there. Not his fault, though. Also there's no other Francophones on this list I feel so we should really fix that. What IS Quebec Doing?

Brandt Clarke: Okay, we can have a little "developing defencemen." As a treat.

Evan Bouchard: Why are you booing me? I'm right.

Chris Tanev: Chris Tanev

Brandon Montour: There are probably one or two better options but I like him more TO BE HONEST. Picking the forwards is like a careful examination of PK ability and faceoff percentages and primary points per minute. Picking defencemen has been entirely vibes. I'm very, very sure the L and R balance is just Not There.

Reserves: Maveric Lamoureux (queb AND developing. dual threat), Devon Toews (considering literally everyone will beg for the makar-toews pairing), Shea Theodore (I guess)

Goaltenders:

Lol and Lmao, even

Logan Thompson: The man is the Capitals' starter, helped win Vegas a Cup, and is also lowkey hot sexy and hot and sexy. Starter!

Joey Daccord: Swiss, Canadian, and American, so I'm sure we could convince him to come to the dark side. (Especially since the USA has holy-fuck level goalie depth. Jake Oettinger is a third-stringer.)

Marc-Andre Fleury: Look, this forward core is good enough that it can win us a game 7-6 if we really need it to. I just think he's fun.