#bobs classic kicks

[finalgirllx]

guitar teacher!ellie x smartass!reader thank you for all the meet-cute requests @thatdammchickennugget -- they are my absolute favorite and this one is a classic. i plopped a lot of my real life into this lmao. i kinda wanna do a spicy part 2 here. idk. we'll see!

you wait with bated breath inside the cramped, soundproof lesson room at your local music store, where you signed up on a whim to learn the guitar. it’s an impulse decision, really—all but doomed to be just another tick off the ever-expanding list of random cool skills you’ve tried. at the very least, you hope maybe you can whip this one out to “impress the ladies.” maybe even serenade them with some songs and actually sound good doing it—lord knows many have endured the clunky chords of a red hot chili peppers song from some mediocre man already.

you clutch your new guitar semi-awkwardly, plucking the strings and lightly tapping the cool basswood. you can tell that the tune is off, but damn if you know how to fix it. you wonder if you’ll abandon it after the first 40 minutes, just like most other hobbies you’ve sampled.

in your hasty decision-making, you hadn’t even requested a specific teacher. you’d only ever seen middle-aged men employed here, which is fine. you trust their experience, picturing some warm-hearted old rocker coming in and showing off his tried-and-true tricks. what you don’t expect, then, is when the door opens and a girl your age enters the room, extending her hand to shake yours.

“hi, my name is ellie. you’re the one here to learn guitar, right?”

you shake her hand, eyes glancing over her form, trying not to seem like a dumbfounded creep. jeez, she’s cute. she has reddish-brown hair in a choppy bob, freckled cheeks, green eyes, and a dorky smile. she’s adorned in a faded blue jacket rolled up to her elbows, revealing arm tattoos, and a ragged t-shirt with a band you’ve never heard of. and this is the cutie who will watch you fiddle with out-of-tune strings and act like a complete dumbass? you half hope the ground will swallow you whole.

“yeah,” you manage to reply once you remember how to speak. “that’s me. word of warning: i really don’t know what i’m doing, so i’m, like, a total beginner.”

ellie chuckles reassuringly, likely having heard that tired statement a million times over. she gently picks the guitar up from your lap, inspecting its quality. of course, in her hands, the instrument looks like it was made to be held by her. “hey, that’s fine. everyone starts somewhere, right?” she gets to tuning the strings as naturally as breathing.

“so, what’s got you interested in learning?” ellie suddenly asks, just to fill the dense silence of the room. your mouth runs dry, struggling with a response that doesn’t sound as idiotic as “i’m an obnoxious flirt.” she catches onto your fumbling, adding, “what? wanting to look like a badass guitar god, hm?”

“calling yourself a badass, then?” the tongue-in-cheek question escapes before you can rein it in. ellie pauses her tuning to look up at you, and your heart drops to your stomach. she’s going to kick you out, you reckon.

“i mean… you are staring at me with your mouth open. must be in awe of my guitarist badassery or something. i don’t mind,” ellie replies with a knowing, smug smile, then returns to helping your sorry ass tune up your guitar.

yep, you definitely need that hole in the ground right now.

after that rocky introduction, the lesson takes on a more professional atmosphere, with ellie explaining the basics. she teaches you about the body of the instrument, the strings, and some basic history—you name it, and she knows it. it’s clear that ellie is enthusiastic about the guitar, her interest rubbing off on you, which does not help your case with how cute you already find her.

you try your best to be a good student, which isn’t the energy you typically bring to all your other short-lived courses. there is something special about ellie’s passion—how her lips move as she speaks about it, how her eyes light up, her fingers curling against the strings while demonstrating songs—it compels your attention. you listen respectfully to the multitude of rambles she embarks on and cuts short whenever ellie realizes she has led you too astray from the basics.

at approximately the 38th minute of the 40-minute lesson, you realize that you haven’t attempted to actually play the damn thing. ellie must have come to the same realization, flashing a tilted smile, hoping you aren’t too annoyed that this instructional course devolved into a ted talk, a worry she couldn’t possibly be more wrong about.

ellie assists your clumsy self in positioning the guitar onto your lap, showing you how to hold it correctly. the closeness has your heart racing, and every touch sends shivers through you—you hope the internal gay panic doesn’t translate outwardly. ellie takes her time helping you press your fingers onto the correct strings and frets to play a simple “c chord.” her fingers guiding yours with such precision causes your thoughts to veer into thousands of inappropriate possibilities. the pose feels a tad contorted, your fingers placed in a way totally foreign to you, but her reassurance builds your confidence to try. she crouches before you, making final adjustments before her greens glance back up to you expectantly, waiting for you to try.

you strum the one chord—a passable sound that resonates throughout the guitar. it gets the job done but, of course, lacks the flow that ellie could have had. but ellie is proud, her genuine smile and silly applause flustering you.

you find yourself feeling more accomplished in this single instance than in the last three skills you’ve tried combined.

“good start, guitar god. i’ll show you another one—if you think you’ll stick to a second lesson,” ellie then suggests, an endearing smile on her face as she watches you absent-mindedly fiddle with the individual strings a bit more. an effective bargaining tactic for sure.

“yep, no problem.” easiest commitment you’ve ever made.

"hell yeah," ellie rejoices, reaching out one last time to high-five you. she looks delighted. just happy to have a new, consistent student, of course--that has to be it.

you sign up for another lesson after—and maybe another. and another.

[kitmon]

Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside. 

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back. 

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

[kumkaniudaku]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: Terry and Nyla work together to bring Patrice some Christmas cheer.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Previous: Back Up

Santa came down the chimney 

Half past three, y'all 

Left all them a good ol' present 

For my baby and for me, ha, ha, ha

Terry bopped his head along to Otis Redding’s classic playing from some soul Christmas station he found on Spotify as he examined his handiwork with a mouth full of baby fingers and no idea what he was doing. 

When he set off to decorate the house on Patrice’s behalf, he hadn’t considered all of the meticulous planning that went into her creating their personal Winter Wonderland. Ribbons needed careful tying to make beautiful bows. Garlands he thought could be tossed on any surface he chose required deliberate care to achieve their festive flare. And, to his surprise, Christmas trees out of the box did not come pre-fluffed.

He was so confident that he could start and finish his side project in his mother’s final hour of childcare that he didn’t change out of his office attire. The tightness of a half-buttoned polo and stiff slacks with a sleepy little girl cradled in the crook of his arm reminded him of just how wrong he was.

Clear bins labeled by function and location crowded their quaint living room with Patrice’s arrival coming quicker than he was prepared for. He squinted at the tree, trying to understand how he’d managed to put every single ornament on only the front while leaving the back side bare. The sensation of Nyla’s fingers tightening their grip on his bottom lip brought his attention from the eye sore he’d created to the four-month-old with her mother’s smile. He pretended to gnaw on her hands. 

“What you looking at, girl, hm? You watching Daddy tear up Mommy’s tree?”

Sleepy baby giggles lit up her round face and dark eyes as her pacifier bobbed in her mouth, thoroughly entertained by her father’s voice and smile. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before smoothing a hand over her soft hair. 

“Hopefully she likes it. Mama hasn’t been feeling like herself so we gotta bring the Christmas joy for her. What you think? Did I do a good job?” He adjusted Nyla in his arms to turn her toward the tree for her opinion. She squirmed in his grip, whining and fussing before releasing a small cry as the only way to communicate that she’d seen enough. He took the hint with a chuckle. “Oh-kay. You are Patrice’s child, I’ll tell you that.”

With Nyla providing lively company, Terry adjusted and re-adjusted earth-toned ornaments of all sizes in a failing attempt to salvage his surprise. She cooed along to Terry’s chatter about work, music, and life, offering commentary here and there like a child who’d been speaking for years.

He listened to her grunt and kick at the mention of watching football on Sunday and smiled. “Maybe me and you can go to a game together one day. Don’t get your hopes up for the Panthers being good though baby girl.”

Nyla laughed as if she understood Terry’s jokes, making him laugh in response. From the foyer, their back and forth sounded perfectly ridiculous to Patrice’s already scrambled mind. Motherhood had come with an unexpected price. Every day came with the overwhelming responsibility of balancing work and home life. Months away from her desk only to return during the end of semester swirl made reaclimating to eight hours away from home grueling. Her emotions were a jumbled mess that she traversed on a fraying tightrope. Exhaustion was her default setting these days. No matter how much her family assisted her, there were never enough hours in the day. 

A sigh of relief rushed between parted lips as she pressed her back against the front door to seal her home from the frigid early evening wind. A single minute of tranquility couldn’t erase the day she’d had, but it came close. The rest needed the help of her two favorite people in the world. 

The alarm’s chime stopped Nyla and Terry’s conversation, alerting them to their queen’s arrival. 

“Petey! You’re home,” Terry exclaimed from the living room. 

Patrice scoffed and rolled her eyes as she placed bags on the ground. “Don’t play with me, Terrence. I don’t wanna have to knock you out in front of your best friend.”

“I’m not worried about it. She got my back. Right, MiMi? You got Daddy’s back?” Patrice smiled at Nyla’s squeal in response, listening and watching it intensify as Terry appeared in the foyer. 

His standing there, tall and thick with a baby carefully balanced in his arms and an incredible softness in his eyes, instantly awakened senses that had long taken the day off. 

“How you doin’, beautiful?” 

“I was exhausted until I saw you. You married or just out here fine for no reason?”

He chuckled at her shameless flirting and flashed his ring. “Happily married. She a little off in the head too, so be careful.” 

“That was perfect. Make sure you say it just like that every time.” 

Terry closed the gap between them, pressing quick kisses to her forehead and lips as he helped her shrug out of her coat with his free hand. 

“Was your day okay,” he asked, a hand gripping her elbow to hold her steady while she kicked off her boots. She shrugged. 

“I didn’t feel like crying by the end so that’s a step up, right?”

“Sure, but I don’t want sad at all. Is there anything I can do?”

Patrice attempted to answer Terry’s concern with a weak smile. “No, but I appreciate you lookin’ out for me. I’ll get better. For now, let's talk about this smiling girl instead. Come here, my sunshine!” 

Nyla kicked her little feet and panted from excitement as she transitioned from one set of arms to the next. She worked overtime to ward off sleep for dueling kisses on both cheeks from doting parents elated to have their baby girl earth side. 

Terry pulled away from family time to collect the heap of bags left by the door. “What’s all this?” 

“Just me tryin’ to find some Christmas cheer. I figured we could bake some cookies with Ny before she goes to bed. Then we can have a drink, order in, and watch a movie or something? I don’t know. Tell me if that sounds stupid.” 

Uncertainty was thick in her delivery. She hadn’t been sure of anything in the past four months. Herself, her parenting skills, being a good wife, her teaching - nothing. The need for validation was growing more dire by the day. 

“We can do whatever you want, baby. I’ll dress up like Santa if you need me to.”

His affirmation came with a gentle kiss and a slight squeeze to her backside that made her giggle like a teenager in the presence of her crush. “Thank you, Pooh. You hear that, Naomi? Daddy’s gonna dress up like Santa and let Mommy sit on his lap.”

“That ain’t all Mommy can sit on but we have to wait until you’re asleep for that part.” His joke came with a suggestive eyebrow raise that incited a hearty guffaw and butterflies in Patrice’s belly. She leaned in to rest her forehead on his chest for as much touch as she could handle. He rested his chin atop her head to speak. “There’s a surprise for you in the living room if you’re up for it.”  

“Does this surprise have something to do with my baby being drenched in all this glitter?”

“No. That’s courtesy of her grandma and her outfit earlier today. You know your mama loves sparkles.”

Patrice attempted to dust silver flecks from Nyla’s face to no avail. “Then lay it on me. I’m ready to be surprised. At least I think. I never know when you two get in cahoots.” 

True enough. Terry and Nyla usually found a way to cause havoc, whether in the middle of the night with a dance party or throughout the day with a host of loud distractions. Terry couldn’t deny his propensity to look for trouble with his partner in crime, but he could convince Patrice that, this time, their mischief was something she’d enjoy. 

Carefully, he pulled Nyla from Patrice’s arms and led her into the living room with strict instructions to keep her eyes covered until he gave her permission. Anticipation had Patrice nervously bouncing from foot to foot while she waited for the signal. Nothing in her immediate area gave away what she might see on the other side of an extended blink. There were no smells outside of something hearty with a hint of spice simmering nearby. The soft murmur of what sounded like Christmas music didn’t seem out of place. She attempted to feel for clues with one hand out in front but came up empty. 

“Can I open my eyes now,” she asked for the third time. 

Terry chuckled as he positioned her in the center of the room. “You’re so impatient, baby.” 

“Now, don’t make me start on you. We just had our first wedding anniversary on our original wedding date but I’m impatient?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Open your eyes before you go too far.”

All of Patrice’s smug laughter slowed to a halt as her eyes feasted on every detail in the room. Crooked garlands dusted in artificial snow adorned the fireplace. Gaps in the Christmas tree created portals to the blank wall behind it. Ornaments sat jumbled together with no rhyme or reason. The skirt meant to hide the unsightly plastic tree stand was comically flipped inside out. Her Christmas star, passed down from her mama’s mama sat glittering under soft white light, waiting to take its rightful place on top of her most eclectic tree to date. 

Each imperfection made her heart swell ten times its size, creating a steady stream of tears that coated her cheeks. 

She released a shaky breath, the sound betraying the emotions she attempted to keep at bay while she marveled at the tree with her back turned to her helpers. “Oh wow. You did all this for me?” 

“When I told Ny how much you love Christmas she was like, ‘Dad, we should do something for Mommy since we love her so much.’ It was all her idea. I only opened my wallet. And put stuff together. And held her the whole time because she hates her mat.”

“Yeah,” she asked, laughing to release nerves and wiping at her face as she finally turned to face them. “You talk that much, little girl?” 

“Oh, she’s a great conversationalist. Give her a little formula and she’ll yap all day.”

Patrice stepped closer to rub her nose across her daughter's cheek, inhaling the fresh baby scent that never failed to calm her often racing thoughts.

“This is…so sweet. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she started. “It’s been kinda tough to get excited this go round. I can’t really find that spark like before and I’m trying so hard.”

“I know. You’re doing a great job, Mama. A perfect job. I wouldn’t wanna be doing all this with anybody else,” Terry reassured while he pulled her into a hug. 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing with all the love in her body when no words could get past the heavy lump in her throat. The leak in her emotional dam had erupted into a crater, turning small tears into a near sob that made her head hurt. She’d cried all of her sadness away in the dead of night or when sitting in traffic between work and home. This was happiness. An unmistakable joy and gratefulness for being blessed beyond her wildest imagination. 

Terry didn’t intervene or coax her into deep breaths to stop her crying. Instead, he held her close with one arm and alternated loving pecks between her head and Nyla’s face as the infant rested on his shoulder for comfort. Her tiny hand reached out to leave little pats against Patrice’s forehead, finally making her giggle as her crying paused. 

“You’re right. Mommy needs to get it together,” she laughed. “I’m killin’ the vibe big time.”

Terry chuckled. “MiMi cried when I showed her, too. Is this a happy cry or do you hate it?”

“I love it and I love y’all. So much. So, so much.”

“We love you more than we can put into words. You know, since one of us literally can’t talk.” 

Patrice's belly laugh made Terry grin from ear to ear in triumph. His chief concern was bringing her happiness, even if only for a few hours. He’d take today as a win and try to top it for the rest of his life. 

Wiping fresh tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and received another whiff of the aroma wafting from the kitchen reminding her that she was starving from a day of educating the leaders of tomorrow. She hummed at the smell with her eyes closed. “Why didn’t you say you cooked? What is that? It smells good.”

“That is your other surprise. Think about it and tell me what you think it could be.” 

Hints of cayenne and the spice of fresh jalapenos made her nose tingle. Something warm and sweet followed as the perfect accessory to the savoriness commanding attention. The smell felt familiar. It felt like her childhood. It felt like home. 

Her eyes shot open and up to his in sudden realization. “Daddy’s chili! Really? Is that what that is?”

“I owe him some help in the shed but it’s worth it for you. Hope it brings back some magic for you.” Patrice stared at Terry, eyes misty and lips drooping in a deep frown that confused him. “Wait, what did I -”

“Oh my God, whyareyousoperfect!?” 

All of her words came out in another muffled sob as she dramatically buried her face into his chest. He couldn’t help but tease her, whispering comments about her theatrics and how she could’ve been a movie star from her ability to burst into hysterics at the drop of a hat. 

Drooping eyelids from their pride and joy forced them to share hushed laughter while Patrice regained enough of her composure to help add the finishing touches to their first Christmas display as a unit. Watching Patrice gently bounce Nyla to sleep while she adjusted ornaments and decor to her liking filled Terry with enough warm fuzzies to make him blink back emotions he didn’t know he had brewing. 

He had a family.

For all the ups, downs, and haymakers life had thrown him, he had two people looking up at him like the sun rose and set in his eyes. The thought alone took him back to his first time in the same spot with a pecan pie and a carefully wrapped gift in his hands. 

Terry slowly approached Patrice from behind to assist her in the effort to place the topper where it belonged. “Remember our first Christmas together?” 

“The one when you stayed too long and had your mama worried,” she laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Now look at you. Still over here after all this time.”

“I always knew what and who I wanted.” His declaration came with silly, loud smooches to her exposed neck while they wiggled the star into place atop the tree.  

Perfection. Patrice smiled at their joint effort and the feel of Terry holding her and Nyla close. She angled her head to watch him shower their little one in soft kisses.

“Hey,” she called to get his attention. “Merry Christmas, baby. Thank you. For everything.” 

He met her thanks with a tender kiss and the gentle graze of his lips against hers, sharing a silent conversation between lovers that needed no explanation. 

“Of course. Merry Christmas, honey.”

-----

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[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 18 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna's life in California is everything she never thought she could have. If she can convince Kevin to agree to her terms, she can be free of him once and for all. She is finally starting to understand how much easier it is when you have people who care about you and are willing to help you along the way.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Anna felt like she was still in shock. Bob humored her when they got back to his house by setting up shop at his dining room table and letting her sit on his lap while she read through some parts of her manuscript and copied everything from Kevin's computer to her own. Bob even let her save it to his personal cloud account and gave her permission to change the password to whatever she wanted it to be.

"I trust you," she whispered, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

He kissed her cheek and said, "I want you to change it. To anything you want. That way you'll know it's secure."

She only thought about it for a few seconds before she started typing out the new password, and she said it out loud as she entered it.

"ILOVEBOBFLOYD. All caps. All one word."

Anna could feel the tip of his nose press against her ear as he murmured, "You do? In all caps?"

She'd all but told him she did in his truck barely a few hours ago, but he deserved to hear it with her whole heart behind it. She turned to face him on his lap and said loud and clear, "I love you."

His lips met hers in a kiss so intentional, she wasn't at all surprised when he broke it a moment later to once again confirm, "I love you, too."

She was still wearing Jessica's cocktail dress and a full face of makeup, but she told Bob, "I'm ready for bed."

He definitely knew what she meant. His chair went skidding across the floor behind him as soon as he stood with Anna in his arms, and she let him carry her upstairs to his bedroom. She was already so used to sharing his bed, and now that she had her manuscript, everything felt like it made more sense. The instant connection they had. The way she already knew his writing before she met him. The fact that she was also friends with his friends now. It felt right. And so did his lips on the inside of her ankle after he set her on her back on the bed.

Anna kicked off the shoes, and Bob shook his head as he let his hand slide up her leg to her knee and then her thigh. "You're incredible. If I could make you mine, I would."

He seemed more than willing to give her the time she needed, but she already knew exactly what she wanted. "I promised you I'd get my shit together," she said with a smile as she started to wiggle out of the borrowed cocktail dress. "Don't give up on me."

"I won't."

She was going to get everything she needed tomorrow. She was determined. But right now all she wanted was Bob. She inched the fabric up slowly, and his hands were on her hips, rubbing her most decadent pair of underwear between his fingers.

"All these freckles," he said reverently, tracing them with his knuckles as she finally yanked the dress over her head. "Covering every inch of you." He was touching her inner thigh, scraping his nails along her underwear, driving her closer to the point of begging for him. Then she realized what this was. He was worshipping her. And he was just getting started.

When his lips found her ankle again and started making their slow journey up to her knee, she wanted to have this forever. She wanted his body above hers and underneath. She wanted him to make her come and then clean her up before destroying her again by pulling her close and keeping her there all night. Anna just wanted to belong here with Bob.

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

Bob was exhausted when his alarm started blaring at five o'clock in the morning on Tuesday. He and Anna had been at it most of the night, and he could see the proof in the dark circles smudge beneath her eyes as she dozed with her cheek on his chest. She was naked and warm and glued to his side with her fingers in his sparse patch of chest hair. He was desperate for the two of them to get through the morning. If Kevin didn't simply agree to these final terms, he didn't know what the hell he was going to do. He needed Anna to be rid of him so they could move forward. Together.

"Baby, we need to get up," he whispered, voice cracking softly from lack of use after yelling her name in pleasure a few hours ago. And maybe a little bit from nerves. It had been awful for him to stand outside of the hotel in Carlsbad and simply wait for Anna to make it out safely. He wouldn't be doing that today, but the nerves were still kicking in on her behalf.

"Mmkay," she mumbled, trying to stay in her serene state of slumber even as he pulled the blanket away from their bodies. He needed today to happen in the same way Anna had needed her manuscript back. Now that she had that much, he couldn't stop thinking about what came next.

Bob kissed her freckled cheek and whispered, "Anna. It's Tuesday. Kevin is probably flying back home today. Let's go."

She sat up a bit abruptly with her hair sticking out at a weird angle and a look of surprise on her face. "Let's go," she murmured before climbing out of bed. 

The plan was to get up there and get back before either of them were unforgivably late for work. Bob would stick by her side the whole time. He wouldn't let anything happen to her ever again. The two of them got dressed quickly, and Bob left Anna to gather up the computer to return to Kevin along with the freshly printed out documents from her lawyers. He made coffee and poured two bowls of cereal, only poking at his until Anna came downstairs in jeans, an oversized sweatshirt and a messy braid.

"It's not even six o'clock yet. Should I call Kevin?" she asked, toying with the charger cable for the computer. "I just wish I could do this without having to see him again."

"Same," Bob agreed, reaching for her hand. "Eat something first, and then you can call Kevin and I'll call Jess."

Anna let him take her hand and coax her into the empty chair, and he watched as she ate her cereal very slowly. She looked small and scared this morning, nothing like she had last night. But he didn't want her to give up now that she had the upper hand. When she finally finished eating, he kissed her cheek before he stood and said, "I'll clean up while I call Jess and tell her about your manuscript. Just finish your coffee and try to relax, and then I'll hold you while you call Kevin."

She nodded up at him, unshed tears glittering in her eyes as she whispered, "Thank you."

When Jessica answered her phone on the second ring, she still sounded a little groggy. "Sorry, I know it's early," Bob said as he rinsed the cereal bowls. 

"Everything okay?" she asked with a yawn.

"Yeah. I just wanted to let you know that Anna doesn't need a ride to work today."

"Are you taking her?"

He glanced out into the dining room where she was still sipping her coffee and looking through the paperwork. "No. We're going on a bit of a mission up in Carlsbad this morning."

"Sounds like a D&D adventure in real life."

Bob smiled and had to contain his laughter. If anyone could make him feel better about all of this, it was Jessica. "I wish your Barbarian character was real. Might come in handy today."

He could hear Jake's voice in the background now, but Jessica hushed him as she said, "Wait. Does this have to do with Kevin? Just like the cocktail dress and the wedding rings?"

Bob's voice was hoarse as he said, "Yeah. And hopefully this will be the end of it. The conference he's attending is wrapping up." He sighed and said, "She got her manuscript back, but she wants to tie up all the loose ends."

"She got it back?!"

Bob yanked the phone away from his ear at her loud screech. "Yeah," he added quickly. "But Jess, she has to see him face to face again today, and he's going to be less than thrilled about what she did." He looked back out into the dining room and quickly said, "I need to go so we can head out. I'll call you later."

"Bob! You take care of her!"

He ended the call before he said another word. This was one thing Anna needed to initiate herself.

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

"You can do it," Bob coaxed as Anna sat on his thigh and unlocked her phone. "You're so strong, and you've come some far."

"Yeah," she muttered, looking at Kevin's contact information. "All the way to California."

"Baby, you have your manuscript," he said, and she smiled.

"I guess I have come pretty far." She took a few deep breaths while Bob rubbed her back with his big hand. "Okay. I'm doing it."

As soon as Anna tapped Kevin's name, a chill ran through her body. She kept trying to tell herself he was in control here. More than anything, she wanted to be in control.

"Anna," he snapped as soon as he answered his phone. "What the fuck do you want?"

She swallowed hard and grabbed at the edge of the table to keep herself grounded. "Kevin."

"I don't have time for your bullshit right now. I'm trying to leave this conference, and something is missing from my hotel room. I have housekeeping trying to track down anything that might have-" He cut his sentence short, and Anna shook as soon as he spoke again. "It was you. Wasn't it?" His words were void of emotion. "Somehow you took my computer."

Part of her wanted to argue that technically it was their computer, but she thought better than to do that quite yet. "I don't even want it. You can have it back. I'll be at your hotel in about an hour. I'll meet you in the lobby."

Anna ended the call with shaky hands and looked back at Bob. He was smiling softly at her. "I'm ready to leave when you are."

On the drive back up to Kevin's hotel, traffic was heavy, which gave her ample time to freak out. What if her husband had called the police? What if they were waiting in the lobby with him? What if they could find a way to pin everything on Anna? Could they somehow take her manuscript away again? Even from Bob's account?

"You're okay," Bob reminded her as she held tightly to his hand.

She nodded. "I just want him to go away now."

"He will," Bob assured her. "Back to New Jersey. And you'll stay here. With me."

With Bob. With the man of her dreams. It seemed too good to be true, but here he was, offering. "I like the way that sounds." She watched as he drove along the now familiar streets of a town she wished she didn't know, and then all too soon, he was parking his truck.

Wordlessly, Bob climbed out and then helped her down. Anna held the computer, charger and the paperwork to her chest as they made their way up the sidewalk in the early morning sunlight. The air from the ocean was crisp and cool, but she felt warm with Bob's steady hand at her back. When they walked through the doors into the hotel lobby, Anna muttered, "There he is."

Kevin's gray eyes were glued to her every movement as she nodded at Bob before taking a step away from him. He let her go toward her husband who looked raging mad, and when she was close enough to see his nostrils flare, his big hand reached out and wrapped around her bicep, dragging her toward a quiet corner.

"Ouch," she gasped, and she could hear Bob behind her immediately. 

"Don't touch her."

Kevin's gaze moved between the two of them, and now that Bob was standing just behind her, Anna knew he wasn't going to leave them alone for a private conversation at this point.

"Maybe you'd be better served minding your own business," Kevin snapped, clearly unafraid of the two of them. Then he focused solely on Anna as he said, "Now why don't you go ahead and hand my computer over to me after you tell me how you got it in the first place. I have a conference to close out in twenty minutes."

She bit her lip to try to stay calm. She already knew they only had a few minutes here since she had the entire conference schedule memorized. "Sign this for me first." It was impossible to hide the way her hand was shaking as she handed him the paperwork.

Kevin simply laughed as he looked at it. "I'm assuming you took your manuscript, so if you think I'm going to sign anything for you, then you're a fucking moron, Anna. You want to finalize a divorce? Fuck you. No."

"Don't talk to her like that," Bob growled, but he was largely ignored as Kevin continued on.

"You want to discuss legal documents?" he asked, holding up the new details of a divorce agreement she desperately wanted his signature on. "How about I call the police and let them know you broke into my hotel room?"

"I didn't," she snapped in response. "I outsmarted you."

Kevin's cheeks grew red as he pulled his lips into a thin line, and Anna was so thankful she wasn't here alone. "There is no version of reality in which that's even a remote possibility. But I'd be more than happy to let the police decide."

He started reaching for his phone when she said, "This is as much my computer as yours, Kevin. I don't even want it anyway. I got my writing from it, and you can have it back."

He shook his head at her like she was a small child and said, "You still broke into my room."

"I didn't." He was dialing something on his phone now with the papers from her lawyer half crumbled up in his hand, and she felt tears in her eyes. She was suddenly terrified that he'd be able to find a way to abuse the system and take advantage of their marital status just like she had. "What about Alyssa? She thinks we have a finalized agreement," she blurted out, heart pounding so hard, it was making her sick. "What about your career? You'll miss the end of the conference."

Bob's warmth at her back couldn't combat Kevin's icy stare. "I'll deal with Alyssa when I get home. She'll just have to get over the fact that you and I will remain married indefinitely."

His career. He was more concerned about his career than any relationship, and she knew it. "I have nothing to lose," she said, voice barely a harsh whisper. "I'll go into the conference room right now. You're at the top in your field. How embarrassing for everyone to find out that you got Alyssa pregnant when you're actually still married to me."

"I would like to see you try," Kevin snapped, closing the distance between them as he tucked his phone away again. His face was just inches from hers as the first tear trickled down her cheek.

"You need to back up before I make you," Bob said in a calm but threatening tone, and finally Kevin's attention moved to him.

"If you so much as try to touch me, I will tear up this bullshit paperwork, and then I will level you to the ground."

The tears were falling faster now. The last thing Anna wanted was for Bob to get hurt in any way. A punch to the gut he would recover from, but she knew Kevin wouldn't stop until his career in the Navy was obliterated if he found out where he worked. The idea of having a panic attack in front of these two men was more than she could handle, but she was almost there. "If you touch him or tear up the paperwork, I'll go right into the conference room, and you can't stop me."

Kevin rounded on her again immediately. "You are pitiful. You can barely handle doing anything by yourself, because you're not smart enough. I don't know how you think you could possibly intimidate me now when you never had the balls to do anything!"

Anna heard an incensed gasp somewhere behind her, and then a familiar voice practically shouted, "She has huge balls! Enormous! And she's way smarter than you!"

Kevin looked taken aback as he glanced past Bob and Anna, and when she spun around, she found Jessica leading the troops across the hotel lobby, adjusting her glasses before her hand curled into a fist.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kevin barked, but this time it was Jake who responded.

"It looks like you've got a bigger problem than you planned for," he drawled easily, wrapping his hand around Jessica's waist to keep her at bay as she tried to get closer to Kevin. "So why don't you just go ahead and do as the lady says and sign the paper."

"I'm only going to ask this one more time," Kevin replied, but his voice was much more subdued now. "Who the fuck are you people?"

Anna's other friend rolled her eyes in response like she was bored of this entire scene already. "Haven't you ever made a friend before, Kevin? Or have you always been such a prick that nobody would ever have your back?" She reached into her pocket of her tweed jacket as Kevin's face grew red again, and she pulled out a pen. Then she turned toward her husband and kissed him on the cheek. "Do you think he might be able to figure out how to sign his name if he had a pen, Beer Boy?" she asked him sweetly.

Bob reached for Anna's shaking hand as Bradley took the pen and held it up directly in front of Kevin's face. His smile was devilish and his biceps looked massive as he said, "Your problems are going to keep growing if you don't learn how to use a pen real fast. Didn't you go to medical school or something? I thought you'd be a bit less dense."

Now Kevin was looking around the lobby in every direction, but Anna saw Natasha pop up about twenty feet behind him, sipping from a Starbucks cup as she gave him the middle finger. He was truly surrounded, and now Anna was crying for a very different reason while Bob squeezed her fingers in his.

"Just sign it and let her go," Bob said, voice pleading in a way that made her heart clench. "Let her be with the people who care about her. That's all she wants."

Finally, Kevin snatched the pen out of Bradley's hand before actually reading the paperwork. It was straightforward. It was the new terms of their divorce now that she had her manuscript. She didn't want anything else from him. It was a clean cut. A real ending. Just his signature would suffice, and it would be the beginning of the end of this nightmare. Anna was holding her breath as time ticked away. Kevin's eyes drifted up to examine his surroundings one more time, and that's when Jake and Bradley crowded in on either side of Bob. If Anna didn't already know they were both sweeter than puppy dogs, she would have been scared of them. And that must have done the trick.

Kevin clicked the pen, took the laptop from her hand, and signed the document from her lawyer on top of it. Then he shoved the pen and papers back into Anna's hands with nothing but a hard stare. "Don't try to come after me for a single penny in the future," he muttered as he started walking off with the computer.

"Don't worry," Anna called as she verified he had signed everything, her heart fluttering with elation. "You'll never hear from me again."

"Fuck Kevin!" Jessica said, loud enough that more and more people in the lobby were looking their way as Kevin strode toward his conference room.

"Guess he didn't want the shit kicked out of him," Bradley said, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind.

Anna laughed which immediately turned into a sob, and she threw her arms around Jessica. "I don't know how you knew what was happening today, but thanks for coming here."

"Don't mention it," she replied, giving Anna a squeeze. "And you can thank us by being so sweet to Bob."

"I will," Anna promised before hugging her other friend and Bradley at the same time. Then she wrapped Jake in a quick hug while Natasha finished her coffee.

"Please, don't. It's too early for a hug," the other woman grumbled with the cup in her hand. "I only get up at this hour to fly or kick someone's ass, and I didn't get to do either of those yet."

"I can respect that," Anna told her before launching herself at Bob. She was welcomed into his arms along with the signed paperwork, and he kissed her long and hard, surrounded by their friends. Nobody seemed to be too concerned with what they were doing now as Bradley and Natasha started discussing whether or not there was time to stop for breakfast on the way to work. Anna kissed Bob back while Jake reminded Jessica that they had dinner plans. She really felt like she was one of them now.

"Hey," Bob whispered, forehead pressed to hers as he broke the kiss. "You were incredible. Standing up to Kevin like that."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "I couldn't have done it without you. Without all of you."

Bob pulled her closer in his arms and said, "Yes, you definitely could have. But it would have taken longer, and it would have been harder. You don't need to be afraid to ask for help, Anna. We've all got your back."

She pulled away a little bit more and looked at his beautiful blue eyes and his eager face. "I finally free free," she told him with a smile

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?"

Anna nodded, never wanting him to question any of it again. "I love you, Bob. I'm staying here. I'm staying with you."

There was still so much she wanted to tell him and so much she wanted to do, but she ended up getting a ride to work from Jessica after all. And the first thing she did when she got to her office was email copies of the signed paperwork to her lawyer. Then, after she gave her Classics lecture, she ate lunch by the weird looking tree with the two kindest women she had ever met in her life. When her phone pinged with a new email, she opened it to read perhaps the most poetic and beautiful sentence in the English language from her lawyer. 

Everything is in order, and we already started the ball rolling for your speedy divorce from Kevin.

She carried those words with her for the rest of the day, and eventually Anna was alone in her office when Bob knocked on her door, ready to pick her up.

"I thought we could stop at Chippy's to celebrate with the best peanuts in San Diego," he whispered against her lips when she greeted him with a kiss. "And then we can go home."

She nodded up at him, pushing her fingers through his soft hair. "Home. Where I can start the long and intense process."

Anna tried not to laugh as Bob's brow creased with concern. "What process?"

She let her hand trail down his uniform shirt to all of his pins until her palm was resting over his heart. "The process of letting all of my books mix and mingle with yours on the living room shelf."

His expression melted into the most charming smile. "I can hardly wait."

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

Ahhhh!!!!! Bye, Kevin! I love this friend group with my whole heart, and I have loved writing about them! One more part to go! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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[wcnderlnds]

spooky scary movies | peter maximoff

✧ fluff/angstober day one | scary movies ✧

・❥・warnings: peter is a lil suggestive bc he’s peter and mentions of chucky ig. ・❥・ authors note: a day later than i wanted but we here. also trying out a new format 💕

“Sweet! What snacks we got?” Peter jumped over the back of the couch, sitting down next to you. It took him no time at all to start rummaging through the snacks you’d placed on the small coffee table.

Somehow, you had managed to convince Peter to have a scary movie marathon with you. Spooky season was finally here and there was no better way to kick things off than with a marathon of all the best spooky movies. It was even more of a necessity when Peter had told you he hadn’t seen most of the ones you’d listed off to him. How could he not have seen the classics like Friday The 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street?

Peter wasn’t exactly the type of guy that sat and watched movies. He had tried — he had really tried so many times but sitting still for such a long period of time wasn’t in his repertoire. Focusing on just one thing for more than ten minutes was hard, he constantly had to be on the go, had to be doing something. Sitting down and watching something for almost two hours seemed like torture to him. It was so slow. Too slow but for you, he’d get his shit together and give it a go even if it pained him. Besides, it was worth it to see the wide smile on your face. Your excitement made him feel all gross and tingly inside — he hated the feeling and loved it all at the same time.

“Peter,” you scolded him, batting his hands away. “Don’t finger all the food before the movies even started.”

“I’d like to finger someth-�� You cut him off with your hand over his mouth before he could even finish his sentence.

“Behave,” you blushed, moving your hand away when he licked your palm. “Gross.”

He snickered, quickly snatching a Twinkie off the table. He leaned back against the couch, ripping it open and almost stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. All you could do was roll your eyes. Typical Peter but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

The silver haired speedster had had your heart for the last six months. It had been a slow blossoming romance. It had started with lingering looks, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve until one day he had ran right up to you and, in a flurry of words, had asked you on a date. From there things had only grown and here you were now.

Peter’s arms were stretched out on the back of the couch, one of his legs crossed over the over. He looked like the epitome of comfortable as he finished chewing his Twinkie. “We’re watching the one with the weird doll first, right?”

“Chucky and yes, we are.” She hit play on the movie. Peter had insisted they watch this one first because the idea of a killer doll seemed hilarious to him.

An hour into the movie and you were cuddled into his side with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. His leg was bobbing up and down, his fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay still but the fact he was trying for you warmed your heart. You looked at him, his eyes were focused on the movie until you placed your hand on his bouncing knee.

“Hey,” he smiled down at you.

“You hate this, don’t you?”

“What? No! I…. it’s just hard for me to stay still but I’m enjoying it, promise. Being here with you, watching this freaky little doll is a blast. Promise, babe.”

You searched his eyes for any sign that he was just telling you what you wanted to hear. When you found none, you cupped his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Peter Maximoff.”

“Pfft, shutup.”

“Make me.”

Peter grinned. In one swift movement, his lips were on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. His hands gripped your hips to pull you into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck as you settled into him. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and it took no time at all for you to part your lips, his tongue meeting yours. The movie was completely forgotten now. As the kiss grew more passionate, Peter slid his hands under your shirt, holding your waist. A content sigh passed his lips briefly before they captured yours again.

It was very, very reluctantly that he pulled away. His forehead rested gently on yours, his eyes closed until he spoke and ruined the moment in only the way he could. “So, this Chucky doll… he’s totally real, right?”

[nomsfaultau]

I had a dream Techno and Tommy were stage fighting for a gaggle of school kids. They were insanely fast, dueling swords flashing and ringing out in sharp notes. Tommy quickly became the face of the match, working over the crowd with such rallying cries as ‘Girls! Girls! Girls!’ and a classic under dog angle, while Techno was very menacing and looming and all together a wonderful heel. The match ended with Techno fully kicking Tommy off stage and then leaping down to plunge his sword into his neck. Okay well almost into his neck, it was just angled to look that way to the audience. Tommy sold beautifully, thrashing until Techno forced the sword deeper and deeper into the wood floor in jerking, halted plunges that left it hilt deep in the ‘dead’ Tommy’s neck. Crowd was absolutely silent on horror.

Techno retrieved his sword and scooped up Tommy to throw him carelessly over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, clambered back on stage and exited into the wings. The kids howled with boos and hisses, genuinely very upset. Some were crying a little. A little unsettled, Techno jogged back on stage to explain to the kids that it was all play fighting and no one is hurt and Tommy is still alive see??

And Tommy just dangled limply in his arms. “Bruuuuuuh he’s NOT dead! Tommy stop selling they’re crying. Ahh this is what I get preforming for babies…” the crowd kept getting more and more riled as Techno was trying to do damage control on the kids while Tommy was a useless twit who was still playing dead.

Eventually Techno gave up and slumped back towards the exit still carrying Tommy over a shoulder, only for Tommy to shoot a grin at the kids and kick Techno in the back. UPROARIOUS cheering. Annoyed, Techno scruffed him by the neck to dangle helplessly, then turned to the audience and bowed, bobbing Tommy up and down since his feet didn’t reach the ground. And scene.

[potato-lord-but-not]

okay first of all

silly envelope doodle

okay rest of all

I CANT FUCKING BREATHE. HOLY. FUCK. THE WAY I IMMEDIATELY STOPPED BREATHING HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT I STILL CANT BREATHE PROPERLY IM freaKING THE FUCK OUT. POTATOLORD RIDDLER SKETCHES SAVE MEEEE. HOLY FUICK HOLY SHIT HOLY JESUS CHEIST. THE WAY IM ACTUALLY SHOOTING LASERS OUT OF MY EYES RN I CANT BREATHE was just rewatching s2 ep15 of gotham when i opened this im actually screaming hes so fucking fine hes literally my everything rn i, actually shaking it was so hard to get clear ohotos becayse my hands were SHAKING. i could ramble for fucking hours about how gay i am rn but my i need to go to the store really quickly so i dont have much time, ALSO THE KAYNE SKETCH?!?! good GOD FUCK MAN HOLY FUCK. you really put my two favourite men onto a peice of paper and expected me to not immediately flatline. oh my GOLLY. im so gay i will never stop staring at that fine man im literally going to explode into an oblivion lord save me now. “why he so cunty?” HE ISSSS YOU DONT EVEN KNOWWWWWW. look at how pathetic my man is look at how fucking beautiful he is.

i love this kayne sticker its everything to me he is so <333 i live him, hes my wife btw, edward nygma is also my wife, thank you so much for this food im forever in debt to you 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

classic Bob reaction I’m so glad you love the sillies so much <3333 I’ll admit your pathetic man is very fun to draw 10/10 would kick him if given the chance

[doodle-pops]

Celebrating Autumn with the Lords of Gondolin

Synopsis: In which you introduce the Lords (and Turgon) to partake in many festive fall activities.

Hosting an autumn-themed party in Gondolin had been your idea, and somehow you managed to get King Turgon and all his Lords on board. The courtyard of Gondolin was dressed in golds, reds, oranges, with wreaths of autumn leaves hanging from pillars and pumpkins scattered around. The air was crisp, and everything had a touch of warmth, from the fire pits dotting the grounds to the hot spiced cider ready for everyone to try.

It wasn’t easy—throwing modern human ideas into elven culture wasn’t exactly the most natural thing—but you made it work. And now, Gondolin’s lords were about to see what a true autumn celebration looked like.

Glorfindel was the first to arrive, grinning as he eyed the pumpkin-carving station you had set up. You told him it was a classic autumn tradition, and he had jumped in without hesitation, picking up a knife and carving some elaborate design that looked like it belonged in a museum. “Let’s see if the others can keep up,” he said, obviously too proud of his creation already. You just laughed.

Egalmoth, with his flair for all things colourful, was immediately drawn to the garlands of autumn leaves you’d hung around. “You have a talent for decoration,” he remarked, already considering how he could replicate this in his own house. You had to stop him from adding more feathers to the mix. “Keep your peacock tendencies in check, Egalmoth. This is autumn, not a bird festival.”

Rog and Galdor rolled in together, both eyeing the apple-bobbing station you’d set up. Rog, ever the competitive one, looked ready to dive in face-first. Galdor, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant, probably thinking about how undignified it would look to dunk his head in a bucket. “Come on, Galdor,” you teased, “I’ve seen you charge into battle with trolls. Surely a few apples won’t scare you.” That earned a hearty laugh from Rog, who immediately took up the challenge.

Ecthelion was, unsurprisingly, more interested in the autumn music you’d selected. The harps and flutes blended with the sounds of crackling fires and rustling leaves, setting the perfect mood. He wandered over to the musicians, offering a few pointers. “Of course, Ecthelion’s turning it into a concert,” Glorfindel whispered to you, shaking his head in amusement.

Then, Maeglin showed up—late—already brooding before he even stepped foot in the courtyard. He looked around, unimpressed, until his eyes fell on the pumpkin-carving station. “What is this?” he asked, genuinely confused. You handed him a carving knife and gestured toward the pumpkins. “Carve something. It’s therapeutic.”

Turgon, ever the picture of regal composure, made his entrance just as Maeglin started slicing away. “I trust this...activity is appropriate?” the king asked, giving you a look that said he was still uncertain about the whole idea. You just grinned. “Trust me, Turgon. If nothing else, watching your nephew stab a pumpkin will be the highlight of your evening.”

The apple-bobbing contest kicked off with Glorfindel joining Rog and going head-to-head. Both were elbowing each other out of the way in a very un-lordly manner, while the rest of the group gathered around to cheer or laugh at their antics. Maeglin, as expected, looked sceptical by the whole thing, but even he couldn’t resist glancing over occasionally to see who was winning.

Egalmoth, being Egalmoth, had somehow found a way to tie autumn-coloured ribbons into his hair, showing them off to anyone who would listen. He tried to convince Ecthelion to do the same, but the captain of the fountains was far too dignified to humour him.

Meanwhile, Turgon had finally warmed up to the idea of an autumn feast, especially once the pumpkin-spiced everything made its way to the table. You weren’t sure if he loved or hated it, but he certainly looked intrigued. “This is...different,” he commented, taking a cautious sip of pumpkin ale.

The pumpkin-spiced food was a hit—or at least, it became the subject of much discussion. Galdor wasn’t sure about the pumpkin bread but enjoyed the roasted chestnuts, while Glorfindel happily inhaled anything remotely edible. Ecthelion, ever the refined one, sipped his pumpkin ale with an arched brow, considering it more thoughtfully than anyone else.

As the night wore on, Glorfindel and Galdor started a friendly archery competition, using pumpkins as targets. Maeglin actually got involved, managing to hit a target dead centre without even trying. “I hate how good he is at everything,” Glorfindel muttered, shaking his head as Maeglin smirked and walked away.

The hay-bale toss turned into an unexpected competition between Glorfindel, Rog, and Maeglin. You watched as they tried to outdo each other, tossing the heavy bales farther and farther until Maeglin, ever the silent competitor, sent one soaring well past the others. “I should’ve known the smith would win this...again,” Glorfindel said, shaking his head with a laugh.

Once the bonfire was lit, the atmosphere became more relaxed. The lords gathered around the flames, drinking and laughing as the night grew darker. You introduced the concept of roasting marshmallows, and though Rog seemed confused at first, he ended up liking the sweet treat more than he’d admit.

As the night continued, you convinced the group to participate in a scavenger hunt you had prepared earlier in the day. You’d hidden little tokens all around the courtyard, each representing something from the autumn season—acorns, tiny pumpkins, golden leaves—and you split the group into teams. Glorfindel teamed up with Ecthelion, while Turgon, much to your surprise, paired with Rog. Watching the elven lords of Gondolin running around in search of hidden trinkets had you stifling laughs for the rest of the night.

By the time the bonfire was lit, everyone was in high spirits. Rog and Galdor were still trading jabs about who won the apple-bobbing contest, while Egalmoth was already planning next year’s party. Ecthelion had taken over the music, adding a dramatic flair to the entire evening with his harp, while Glorfindel tried (and failed) to convince Maeglin to at least smile once before the night ended.

The final event of the evening was a storytelling session around the bonfire. Ecthelion, naturally, volunteered to go first, spinning a dramatic tale about a haunted forest. Glorfindel, of course, made it funnier than it needed to be by making shadow puppets in the firelight, causing the others to groan in mock frustration.

Maeglin stayed quiet through most of the stories, but you caught him smirking a few times, especially when Rog told a tale about a prank gone wrong. Even Turgon, ever serious, seemed to relax in the warmth of the fire and the company of his closest friends.

As for you, you stood back, watching as the lords of Gondolin—so used to battles and council meetings—embraced the ridiculousness of an autumn celebration. Turgon caught your eye from across the fire, giving you a nod of approval. Maybe hosting a party wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had.

Masterlist

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[soulfullives]

lyall flipped a page of his book (the lord of the rings — the hobbit, obviously; it had been remus’ favourite book when he was little, he used to read it to him), sitting on the old, worn out armchair.

remus had asked him, in his last letter, not to come to king’s cross to pick him up, and instead let him apparate back home. lyall had, reluctantly, agreed, yet his heart felt a twinge of sadness when he wrote the letter back; remus was growing older, undoubtedly. he didn’t need them anymore. but the prospect of him splinching himself to wales hadn’t been exactly exhilarating. however, he decided to give his son the chance to… he didn’t even know. he missed remus.

his thoughts were interrupted by hearing the door open and seeing his son enter their cottage, carrying his shabby suitcase in one hand. remus seemed to have grown considerably over the school year, making him appear gangly and unsure into his body. he was also in dire need of a haircut; his mother, hope, would surely take care of that later. (lyall almost chuckled, already hearing her voice: “cariad, do wizards not have scissors?”)

remus looked almost exactly like his father. the same curls, the same hooked nose, the same dropped eyes, rimmed with long eyelashes, the same crooked teeth. however, lyall knew better; his son had his mother’s warm smile, the same dimples in their cheeks, the same mischievous glance.

as if he could read his father’s thoughts, he put his arms to his side. “intact,” he said, rather awkwardly. “i didn’t splinch myself; apparition classes seem to have been a success.”

“i knew you wouldn’t,” lyall lied, licking his fingers before flipping the page, as his son made his way into the kitchen.

he sat down on the couch, and saffron, their ginger cat, considered that to be the perfect opportunity to jump next to her owner and start kneading against his thigh.

they sat in silence for a while; a father, pretending to read, and his son, looking at the pictures on the shelf above the fireplace and obviously engulfed in his thoughts, yet lyall didn’t ask what he was thinking about.

finally, he put his book down. “did i ever tell you about how your mother and i met?”

remus’ lips were parted by a small chuckle. “yes, about a billion times.”

“well,” he said, clasping his hands together. “you know, son, the first time I met your mother, it was quite the adventure. she was out for a walk through a forest when she stumbled upon a boggart — and i’m not going to explain to you what that is, because considering your OWL results, i can very well tell you know.. for her, it turned into a large, terrifying man. i don’t know who it was supposed to be. you mother was frightened, she screamed; i, being nearby, rushed over and with a quick wave of my wand, turned it into a little mushroom.”

“what a hero,” remus chuckled, pulling his longs legs up his chest.”

“i made sure she got home safely, and well, that was the beginning of something special. a few months later, i told her that the boggart posed no danger at all, but by then, we had already fallen in love. not long after, i asked her to marry me, and she said yes. we got married about a hear before you were born, and your mother, with her wicked sense of humor, decided we should have…

“the boggart-shapper topper,” remus finished, grinning. “classic ma.”

“then, as you know, or well, don’t, since you were just born,” lyall continued, (remus snorted) “on march the tenth, the following year, you came into our lives, and our little family was complete.”

his son chuckled, kicking his feet up on the couch. he chewed on his lip. “what’re you reading?”

“the hobbit,” he answered. “i had a bout of nostalgia. you’ve grown up so quicky; it feels like you’re not my little boy anymore.”

he saw remus’ adam apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“i mean, look at you. your mum’s got to stand on her tiptoes to kiss you, and i know she’s not the tallest woman, but she had to bend down to be able to hold your little hand once. and you could fit between my arms, remus, with your head on my chest when i read to you. you used to be so little, and in a few months you won’t even be living with us anymore. you’re of bloody age,” he let out an airy laugh, “now.”

lyall didn’t know when remus had stood up and was behind him, his arms wrapped around his dad’s shoulders. “i’m still your son,” he said, his voice as small as it used to be when he was little.

“i know,” he reached out awkwardly and patted remus’ shoulder, ignoring the sniff he heard remus let out. “you’re always gonna be our son, cariad.”

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

TWST Cast - Fidgets/Stims/Self-Regulation

I needed something simple to write to feel like I'm. we're not actually gonna get into that, anyways, enjoy.

TW: Some of these are NOT healthy/borderline SH, but there's nothing graphic, it's just some folks don't know What's Wrong and only know how to make themselves focus via some sort of (minor) physical pain.

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

Heartslaybul

Riddle - had to mask around his mother, said his stims (bouncing his leg, and kinda just. shaking his pen? you know what I mean, like between two fingers and you just let it bounce?) made him look mentally unwell (🙄), unruly and undisciplined. Totally not projecting At All So he rarely stims in public when he's trying to focus, though during testing periods and in the safety of his own room he tends to let himself (subconsciously) stim. He also chews on his bottom lip a lot, but not enough that it was ever noticed by his mother. (Floyd gifts him a fidget ring sometime in the future and he's surprised at how well it works for him) He also loves compression but has yet to discover it.

Trey - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but even in game we know that he tends to touch/readjust his glasses when he feels awkward/about to join a conversation or make a point he's being a bit of a smart alec about. Usually when he's really stressed, (which takes quite a bit to get him there), he'll excessively wash his hands with cold water.

Cater - has a lot of caffeine, so for the most part, his impulses to stim aren't there. That being said, when anxiety comes to kick him in the butt, usually just listening to music and tapping out the rhythm of the guitar with his finger against his thigh is enough to help him out, usually while keeping the beat by tapping his foot or bobbing his head at the same time. (usually some soft rock or pop music) When he's REALLY like. needs to get emotions out but can't because he doesn't like being vulnerable he makes himself eat unbearably hot (spicy) food and insists that he likes it even as he is Crying and Sniffling because. then he can write it off to the spice and not the fact he's dying inside. (Don't do this please sdlkjfhlksdjf) Sometimes he also stims by making popping noises, but he doesn't even recognize that he does this, because usually it's just when it's him and Trey in the room, and Trey isn't bothered by it. "Like" and "Really" are both stim words for him too.

Deuce - He's still learning to self-regulate! He knows that shouting helps him get everything out, but in the moment he sometimes struggles. He's still trying out different techniques. As for stims/fidgets Deuce doesn't really have any? Well he does, but he doesn't act on them when he needs to focus since One Incident early on in life when he found out that his fidgets make noise (he's deaf as a part of my HC and didn't get hearing aids until he was like 5-6) and he hates to be a bother to anyone else. On top of that, I think he has a slight auditory processing disorder, so he has a tendency to repeat things back to people, just to make sure he's understood correctly once his brain has caught up to their words. He doesn't know it yet, but compression will help him Calm Down when needed.

Ace - Whistling/noise imitation in general, bouncing his leg, pen tapping, etc. this guy has ADHD but thank the Seven for his older brother who was patient and gentle with him when he was younger. When Ace struggles to focus, he tends to just shuffle a deck of cards, he likes the way they feel. In the rare occasion that he chooses to study, he usually does so while shuffling the cards/practicing a magic trick at the same time because the Physical task during the Mental task makes the Mental task more interesting. He also uses music as a means of self-regulation. (Usually classic rock).

Savannaclaw

Leona - His emotional regulation is out to lunch and the closest he gets to stimming is his tail flicking. It could be argued that the feeling of his blankets is Nice To Him but idk man. Catnip helps with regulation? Idk. Sure.

Ruggie - Idk are we counting his tail wagging as a stim? technically it could be considered one, right, it's a subconscious physical response to happiness? Ruggie also tends to chew on his lip when he's focusing, but his teeth are sharper than Riddle's so it often draws blood and he rarely notices. Sometimes he's kinda hit with just a Wave of what the fuck am I doing with my life? and just needs to rub something soft (Usually Leona's laundry bc it's more luxurious than anyone else's), a little bit to try and recenter himself. If that doesn't work he just tries to work himself to a point of exhaustion so he can ignore the Bad Feelings. This rarely works and he ends up calling his grandma by the end of it just to ask her to leave the phone on speaker so he can hear the chaos and rough and tumble of home. At the end of the phone call his grandma sings to him bc she knows full well what's going on and the sense of familiarity is enough to help Ruggie feel less restless. This boy also loves compression. Also, rolling with the idea that he got to keep the trumpet from the port fest event and started teaching it to himself, during the day/when he's bored he practices tonguing+breathing excercises/patterns (don't be weird about this I stg) or buzzing with or without his mouth piece. Also chews on his nails a lot. I feel like eventually someone gifts him one of those chew necklaces and he loves it but his bite force accidentally damages it much sooner than it should have been so then that same person gets one commissioned specifically to withstand a hyena's bite force and it's the best gift he'll have ever gotten (besides a wad of cash but yknow)

Jack - I mean besides his tail wagging...there isn't much else? For emotional regulation, he tends to just go running if he needs something to focus on. Music also helps sometimes, but it's specifically classical and he just sits in bed and listens to it in his comfiest clothes bc. unlike SOME people he will listen to his body and mind and rest when necessary.

Octavinelle

Azul - Him? Stim? Never. /J He masks a lot mostly because he knows that stimming can come off as anxious, and that's the last thing he wants when he's trying to be convincing to someone else, or really, in front of the twins. That being said, alone in his office he twirls his pen a lot, and late nights/Anxiety Times leads to him tugging on that strand of hair that's longer than the rest as a means of staying focused and in the moment. He thinks he can't be vulnerable in front of the twins but honestly they pick up on his anxiety so easily, they both know compression helps him out. Jade is generally touch repulsed, so usually Floyd takes it upon himself to Flop on Azul's back while he's working. Azul will sometimes imitate playing chords on the piano, on his desk for the same reason Ace plays with cards. He also finds himself stress eating sometimes which does nothing good for his self-esteem.

Jade - Also Masks A Lot. It would take someone he trusts even more than his own twin that would ever get to see him act on his impulses. Otherwise we would see Jade with the happy flappies (though I feel like he would keep his hands in fists instead). However, when things are Bad, Jade does one of two things, both of which are done in a locked bathroom. 1. Fill the sink with cold water and dunk his head in without switching to his mer form. 2. Rolls up his sleeves and bites himself. Just once is usually enough to get him out of it. He also finds the whole. Cleaning out the wound and wrapping himself pretty relaxing. He has not considered just using a tensor bandage yet to self regulate, eventually Floyd will find out wtf he's doing and suggest That instead. Jade will sometimes unmask just enough to rock slightly side to side or back and forth/up on his tiptoes and back down bc he can make it fit with his whole 'I'm innocent baby' kinda facade he pulls sometimes sdlkfjhslkdjf Also tends to need a completely silence space when he's overstimulated.

Floyd -WHOOOOOWEEE babes you already know he is STIM central WHOOT WHOOT he's got the happy flappies, he's got the leg bouncy, he's got the clicky pen, he's got the 'I gotta touch something squishy' need, etc. etc. HOWEVER sometimes he's got the Bad Stims, like he cannot focus on anything, nothing is being retained, he feels over and understimulated at the same time, nothing feels Good, he doesn't feel hungry, he wants Nothing to do with anyone, his leg is bouncing, he's kinda just stabbing his pencil repeatedly into the table and he KNOWS he should focus but just can't- and then Lilia introduces him to metal music and it's like Wow. Everything is better. It has to be blasting, but now Floyd has a means of dealing with That Feeling whenever it rolls around. Also it HAS to be over the ear headphones because of the compression and Friendly Squishy Texture of the parts that cover his ears. Makes him feel better in less than ten minutes, it's a win-win for everyone except he can never remember the name of the band, so he almost always tracks down Lilia to demand (ask) for a reminder and Lilia just almost always has his headphones and phone on hand so just Gives them to Floyd while he goes through Floyd's phone and curates a playlist for him and finds his exact headphones on the equivalent of Amazon so Floyd can order them. Floyd in general, when listening to music, tends to imitate whatever his favourite part of the song is, whether it's the bass line, guitar, drums, keyboard, lyrics, etc. and will switch between various parts as he sees fit. This also means it's not uncommon to hear Floyd essentially beatboxing as a stim method as well. Floyd also snaps his fingers a lot, he likes spinning things on his fingers (be it as innocent as a key chain or dangerous as scissors), and also imitates people a lot. He doesn't always intend to, but like. If he is talking to someone with an accent, he accidentally IMMEDIATELY takes on that accent and finds it funny because he literally can't stop himself. Idk if anyone else has this issue but dear god as someone more anxious than Floyd this has lead to a lot of awkward situations for me bc I have to CONSCIOUSLY not speak in whatever accent my brain is trying to make me take on.

Scarabia

Kalim - ALSO stim central, though his tend to be in response to happiness. He tends to parrot people a lot, beatboxes/makes noise, happy wiggles, snaps his fingers,lots of different kinds of taps, and has happy flappies. He has some. Not so good regulatory practices as well, but when he's overwhelmed he tends to rock back and forth, or ...like. Idk really how to describe it, but he taps his hand against his chest really fast, but it's like in a claw shape so after a few times it starts to hurt a little? because of his finger nails?? idk how else to describe it. He knows better than to do it in front of Jamil though. Music tends to overwhelm him when he's already overstimulated so he ends up putting headphones on just to try and block out the noise. White noise doesn't help, he just wants it to be as quiet as possible.

Jamil - Stims more than people realize, because his stims are naturally more subtle. When Kalim comes to 'bother' him in the kitchen, he keeps himself as focused and relaxed as possible by balancing on one foot at a time, to give himself something to think about besides the 'unwelcome' invasion. When he's studying, he flips his hood up and is constantly rubbing the fabric close to his face and has a bit of a leg bounce. He also uses music as a means of regulation, usually something with a lot of syncopation. Jamil also keeps his hand in a fist and bumps it against his side sometimes when he's trying to stay focused in a conversation.

Pomefiore

Vil - He doesn't really stim all that much, but on days he doesn't feel himself/bad anxiety/PTSD is getting to him, he washes his hands with burning hot water. He knows it's not good. And his hands are super sensitive afterwards. But it stops him from spiraling and that's all he needs. He takes care of them properly afterwards and will make sure to wear his gloves.

Rook - I kinda HC Rook with OCD. Most of his stims are his methods of coping with any sort of dirt or germs, perceived or otherwise. He hates not wearing his gloves, (of which he has different pairs for different Places), but in the event he can't have them on for whatever reason, or a task will be more efficiently done without them, he washes his hands until they're raw because then he can be sure that layer of skin that was in Contact isn't there. Rook regulates with scents a lot too, whether it be the perfume Neige/Vil uses or rooibos tea that his sister used to make for him.

Epel - Idk if gesticulation counts as stimming, but he does it a lot, just not in front of Vil dslkfjhksdjf. I feel like it's only really around Deuce that he feels comfortable doing his happy stomps, though for the hometown event he likely doesn't mask much so other people get to see it too. As much as Epel hates being called short, he likes the fact if he sits back far enough in his chair he can kick his feet without touching the floor sljdfhlksjd. He also tends to grind his teeth.

Ignihyde

Idia - He has SO MANY homemade fidgets but he gets tired of them really quickly so he ends up putting them in the scraps lab of Ignihyde. He likes clicking sounds a lot, (go figure /lh), and ASMR. In the (horrific) event he has to leave his room, usually he tries to keep his anxiety at bay via rubbing the ridges on his sweater, playing/rubbing at his hands/wrists in the pouch pocket of his sweater or rocking a bit, though he hates doing that bc it draws attention to him sometimes. If he does end up overstimulated in a Bad Way or anxious, he tends to pick at his lips/chew on his fingernails.

Ortho - Baby!! He tends to mimic other people's stims when they look fun! He does do happy trills/beeps now and then of his own volition and it's Adorable. He will also do them when he feels like cussing sldkfhlksjd Ortho also claps when he's happy, and if he has his boosters on might even do a little flip. As a treat. When he does need emotional regulation, he knows compression helps so he just asks big brother for a hug. 10/10.

Diasomnia

Malleus - Doesn't stim a whole lot...nor does he really emotionally regulate, though I feel like. For some reason he really likes (cloud) slime as a fidget. Like, he doesn't need it in order to regulate anything, but he finds the texture and sound pleasing. He does sometimes repeat other people to process information. I do think he would be more prone to stimming when he's more dragon than humanoid.

Lilia - Obviously uses music to regulate, bc he did it for Floyd, but he also uses his turning upside down and feeling all the blood rush to his head as a method of getting his brain out of a bad spot. Lilia does also have a chew necklace that he uses now and then, but other than that, he rarely gets overstimulated or needs a distraction. He just likes chewing sldjfhslkjdf he does help Sebek and Silver self regulate though

Silver - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but when he was younger he used to have a lot of nightmares. Usually Lilia would help him through it with breathing exercises, but if he was too panicked to focus on that he would get a few pieces of ice and wrap it in a cloth towel so as to protect him from it hurting. The cold would distract Silver enough to stop crying as hard, and then both Lilia and Silver would hold an ice cube in their hands until Silver didn't want to anymore and they could practice their breathing. Every now and then, Silver still goes to the freezer at night just to hold ice in both hands until he's calmed himself down from a particularly bad dream or anxiety just eating at him.

Sebek - Refuses to believe he stims. However, he acknowledges the ice trick does help him refocus when he finds that he isn't able to on his own. He doesn't realize he grinds his teeth or that staring at a fan actually helps him calm down. Also Lilia bought him a lava lamp and it also helps stop the overwhelming Feelings he has sometimes.

Others

Che'nya - picks at his skin a lot. He knows it's not good but he can't help it there are Textures There He Doesn't Want but also Feel Funny on his fingers. He tends to self-regulate simply by purring or scratching himself/getting someone else to scratch behind his ears. He also tends to put things in his mouth without much thought behind it. All his pencils have bite marks. He has probably eaten like 30 erasers by this point by accident. He also really likes smells, usually freshly baked bread to help regulate, which is why he sometimes comes to 'invade' Heartslaybul is just to chill in the kitchen while Trey bakes to help him tune out any bad feelings he has. Every once in a while, he'll use catnip to deal with anxiety, but Neige usually intervenes before then and like. Puts on one of those fish videos for cats. Che'nya loves them more than he would like to admit. He also carries a ball of yarn because he likes how soft it is and he can fidget with it when he needs to.

Jack T. - Almost the exact same stims as his little brother, but he masks a lot because he Had To when he was growing up. He's just glad that he was able to provide a space for Ace to be able to express himself the way he needed to.

Najma - She also stims in a fairly subtle way. She usually has a scarf on her that's a soft material that she rubs as a means of regulation, like some sort of silk, she likes the smooth texture. She has 10 hour versions of her favourite song, (whatever it may be) on her playlist. (Jamil does NOT understand this whatsoever, how Najma can stand to listen to something that long does not make sense to him sdlfhlkjsf) She also has a hand cream she carries with her everywhere because she likes the smell of it.

Neige - He has a lot of anxious bouts and PTSD that he can usually mask, but he's almost always rubbing his wrist gently, humming, singing or whistling. He kinda figures if he's always making a noise of some kind, nobody will pick up on what lies underneath. When he does have a full blown panic attack, he has breathing exercises he works through that work for him. He also journals a lot.

Extra

Vizzie - Rubs her wrist where her vambrace ends, tugs at her hair when she's borderline dissociative to help keep her in the present, and when she's really feeling. not great? She eats ice with salt on it. It's the burning sensation that helps her focus on Just That and nothing else. Once Cater introduces her to caffeine as a stimulant it does help with a lot of her ADHD-like tendencies, but listening to music with over the ear headphones helps too. When she doesn't want to. you know. punish herself with salted ice, she just has Ice but she has to let it sit until it's the Right Texture. And you might be like. Hey. This sounds like an amalgamation of A Lot of things from above. Guess what babyyyy most of those stims ^^^ are things I do too. And Vizzie is basically. An AU version of myself. Guess what I was doing that made me wanna write this post? slkdjfhslkjdf that's right doing a shitty job at self regulation but hey, writing it out made me Feel Better WOOOO yeah Later on in the Canon story she ends up being more comfortable showing happy stims. When she's listening to music, she often ends up doing the same thing as Cater with the rhythms of the guitar line being tapped out. (bc I gave him my stim wooo I'm taking it back for her lsdkjfhlksjdf)

Anyways. I'm surprised I finished this in one sitting. Must be the caffeine.

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna hop on)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[p0is0nandker0sene]

Tell me about MCR! I only know a little bit about the band.

Goodness where do I begin!

My Chemical Romance is a band from new jersey formed in 2001 by Gerard Way. Gerard was previously working as an intern at cartoon networks and was more a comic and children's cartoon artist than musician. After witnessing the 9/11 tragedy first hand, he wrote the first mcr song 'skylines and turnstiles' and decided to form the band with his friend Matt (Otter) Pelissier (drums). His younger brother mikey way came up with the band name while working in a bookshop after seeing Irvine Walsh's novel "three tales of chemical romance" and suggesting that putting "my" in front of it would be a cool band name.

Gerard then asked guitarist Ray Toro to be their lead guitarist as Gerard couldn't play guitar well enough to perform live. Mikey then later joined as the bassist (despite having little bass playing experience, unlike ray who was classically trained).

While signed to their record label 'eyeball records', the band met frank iero who was the guitarist and vocalist of his own band 'pencey prep' who were also signed to eyeball records. Frank loved my Chem and was basically their first fan. His band split up and he then became the rhythm guitarist (mainly because young ray toro wrote too many guitar lines for him to be able to perform live) a few days before the first album 'I brought you my bullets, you brought me your love' was recorded and later released in 2002. Frank was able to record 2 songs with them, which were 'early sunsets over monroeville' and 'honey, this mirror isn't big enough for the two of us'.

I don't wanna drag on too much longer on what was meant to be a brief background, but they then started writing 'three cheers for sweet revenge', which was released 2004. The album centres around the concept of a couple who are separated in a gunfight; he dies and goes to hell but she lives. The devil makes a deal with him that if he brings him the souls of a 1000 evil men, he can be with her again. This period in time the band's alcohol habits, particularly Gerard's were at their worst, but after a near death experience, Gerard decided to get clean and sober. At this point Matt Pelissier has left the band due to refusing to use a metronome and change his drumming style. He gets replaced by Bob Bryar.

Then they wrote their most successful and well known album 'the black parade' in 2006 which centres around a character called 'the patient' who dies and has death come to him in the form of a parade which is his fondest memory as a child. There are lots of characters in the black parade, including 'mother war', 'pepe', 'fear and regret', and the devil who appears in the form of a wolf.

The black parade's musical style is very different to bullets and three cheers. It's a rock opera and takes influences from Queen and other glam rock bands.

My Chem then went on a short hiatus in 2008/9. During this time, frank started another band called 'leathermouth', which was a short lived hardcore band, and Gerard released the second umbrella academy comic book (the first was released a year prior).

They then released their new album 'danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys', in 2010 which is the album that is by far the most different from their typical style. At this point Bob has been kicked out for reasons that are still fairly up in the air, and is replaced by Mike Pedicone. The concept of this album is entwined with Gerard's comic book that he wrote. The story revolves around a post apocalyptic 2019 where the world is ruled by a totalitarian corporation called 'better living industries' (BLI) and a group of rebels called the killjoys fight against them and their soldiers (draculoids, basically stormtroopers, exterminators who are in the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit, namely Korse who is a main antagonist. Each band member gave themselves a killjoy persona and had distinct outfits and guns to match. Gerard is Party Poison, Ray is Jet Star, Mikey is Kobra Kid, and Frank is Fun Ghoul. The killjoys protect a character called the girl and in one of the music videos, they die protecting her. The comic book of the same name is about the Girl's life after the killjoys have died and how she defeats BLI.

Mike then gets kicked out of the band after being caught stealing from the band. They still don't have a permanent drummer.

They then released a not-album called 'conventional weapons' in 2012 which was going to be an album with no story concept or characters, but they didn't like it so they scrapped it. Despite being released in 2012, it was recorded in 2009.

They also announced they were working on a fifth album with the working title 'mcr5', a name that has haunted mcr fans for years with the hopes of a new full-length album after years.

Mcr then announced their break up on 22 March 2013.

In 2014 they released a greatest hits album called 'may death never stop you' with a previously unreleased track called "fake your death".

Post breakup, the guys started their own solo projects. Gerard made his album 'hesitant alien', frank from 2014 to 2019 had his own solo bands called 'Frank iero and the celabration/patience/ future violents and another project called 'death spells' , Ray wrote and produced his album 'remember the laughter', and mikey formed his own band 'electric century'.

In 2016 they released a 10th anniversary album for the black parade titled 'living with ghosts' which featured demo's and unreleased tracks.

Then, on the 31st of October 2019, my Chem created an instagram account and announced their reunion. They posted a heap of videos relating to revival and rituals. They had a reunion show in LA. They had heaps of global tours planned for 2020, 2021 and 2022 (my show was meant to be in 2022), but because of covid they had to postpone.

In may 2022 they released their first song in nearly 10 years, 'the foundations of decay'.

We're all still hoping they'll drop a new album, which is why we were all so excited about the cryptic post they made which ended up possibly not being mcr5, but a black parade stadium tour. But we're not losing hope for new content and even black parade lore because of the new stuff in the video they dropped recently.

Mcr is both my all time favourite rock band and my special interest, I've been a fan since October 2018 when I discovered them in a video titled "harry potter characters theme songs".

I started adding their songs to my new rock playlist (I was getting into rock when I was 13/4) and realised I was getting really into the band so I decided to learn more about them by looking at their wiki, looking at memes, and watching MVs and interviews.

It honestly just accelerated from there with fan art, memes, fanfiction, interviews, solo projects, fandom activities, and of course crying at 2am to their sad music videos and songs (and about the fact that at this point they were broken up and I thought they would never get back together again 🫣)

That is still, despite how huge that was, a condensed version of the 23 years of my chemical romance and 6 years of me being a fan :) there's tons of little details and facts about the guys, about the songs, the albums, the concepts, the things that happened, before, during, in between, after, and during again.

But thank u for asking me about my Chem! I knew I'd write an essay about them 🫣

[broadwaydivastournament]

BROADWAY DIVAS SUPERLATIVES: Bosom Buddies - Icons Only

Yes, yes, there are so many iconic friendships on and around Broadway (Bernadette and Mary Tyler Moore, especially), but this time there's no "other" option.

Video Clips & Stories Beneath the Cut: More Polls

Angela Lansbury & Beatrice "Bea" Arthur: Angela and Bea first met in 1965 during rehearsals for the production of Mame, in which Angela played the titular Mame, and Bea her "bosom buddy" Vera. Both women would earn Tony Awards for their iconic, never-to-be-bested portrayals. They remained lifelong friends for the next five decades until Bea's death in 2009, where Angela hosted her memorial service at the Majestic Theatre. As the story goes, Angela's legendary Jessica B. Fletcher is named "B" for Bea.

"She was a class act and a real joy to work with. When I first met her I thought I was meeting this patrician, classically trained actor, but she has a mouth like a longshoreman. No kidding. She loved telling dirty limericks." - Bea Arthur on Angela Lansbury, 2003.

Ann Reinking and Bebe Neuwirth: Forever linked by dance and the great Bob Fosse, Ann and Bebe met in passing during the special 3,389th performance of A Chorus Line, but would not come to know each other closer until Sweet Charity, where Annie took over Charity for Debbie Allen during the run, and Bebe played Nickie (Tony Award). They remained dear friends until Annie's death in 2020, working together in Fosse, and of course, the 1995 revival of Chicago that persists to this day.

“I fell in love with her, I continued to fall in love with her. I am in love with her forever. There was a trust between us, there was a connection between us that was beyond anything that had any logical explanation. I felt sometimes--this may sound strange, but it’s the truth--I felt sometimes I looked in her eyes and I time travelled.” - Bebe Neuwirth on Ann Reinking, 2021

Carol Burnett & Julie Andrews: Though they may have never starred in an official Broadway show together, Carol and Julie are too iconic to pass up here. They met in 1961 and are both still alive, kicking, and enduring friends. They did a series of television and stage specials together, including Julie and Carol at Carnegie Hall (1963, Emmy Award), Julie and Carol at Lincoln Center (1971) and Julie & Carol: Together Again (1989). They also both starred in Putting it Together as the part, one after the other. And as a story goes, Carol and Julie were "caught" kissing as a prank on their friend Mike Nichols, but were instead discovered by Lady Bird Johnson.

"As we sat in the darkened hotel hallway on the sofa in front of a bank of three elevators waiting for him, we started to feel rather foolish, and we thought 'Let’s do something to make him laugh.' We decided to pretend we were making out," she said at the time. "He’d called our room and said he was coming right down, so we thought, well, the first person off the elevator would be Mike. But it wasn’t." - Julie Andrews recounts the story to Oprah magazine.

Chita Rivera & Gwen Verdon: Before there was Annie and Bebe, there was Chita and Gwen. The original Velma and Roxie duo in the 1975 Chicago, Chita and Gwen remained friends until Gwen's death in 2000. As Chita recounts, Gwen Verdon was the first person to tell her she had her own talent and didn't need to be her understudy. Years later, they were starring together in Chicago. Chita and Gwen shared the role of Charity (alongside many others) in the benefit concert production of Sweet Charity in 1998. It would be Gwen's final stage appearance. Though Fosse brought his own drama, Chita and Gwen never fell out.

"Our relationship was what it was from the day I stood beside her in “Chicago.” She was a strong woman. She was private. She used to, which is really kind of cute because I would call her on it, sometimes dramatize a story and would say, “Isn’t that right, Chita? Don’t you remember that?” And I wasn’t even there. I would find myself saying, “Yeah, absolutely.” She was so terribly funny, really, really funny." - Chita Rivera on Gwen Verdon, 2019

Donna Murphy & Marin Mazzie: Donna and Marin met while doing the Passion workshop in 1993, and their friendship endures to this day, despite Marin's death in 2018. After all, "and should you die tomorrow, another thing I see: your love will live in me." Marin sang at Donna's daughter's christening. Donna sang at Marin's remembrance concert. She still writes her memorial posts to Marin each year on the anniversary of her passing. Donna played Mother in the earliest workshop of Ragtime, before Marin took over and made that role what it will always be.

"She would always be the first person to say "how are you doing?" That kind of kindness and selflessness in a way--it's not that I didn't appreciate it then--I really did. So I don't need to smack myself in the head and say "why didn't you realize how rare and beautiful it was?" I did. What I couldn't calculate was how much I miss it." - Donna Murphy on Marin Mazzie, 2018.

Kelli O'Hara & Victoria Clark: Our first and only mother-daughter duo, though who is mother and who is daughter is up for debate. Kelli and Vicki met playing mother and daughter in the 2005 The Light in the Piazza as Clara and Margaret Johnson. They remain dear friends to this day and the only pair alive, well, and not dangerously close to death... Kelli and Vicki, trained opera singers, also reunited for Dido and Aeneas in 2016. Their friendship has survived a few awkward situations, such as being up against each other (alongside fellow Piazza star Celia Keenan-Bolger, and that's a story in and of itself) for the role of Nellie Forbush in South Pacific.

"I just started calling her Mother, because I felt like I could be who I was without covering up. Why she called me Mother back is pretty obvious, but she was, for me, always the rock. I felt like, Okay, she loves me, warts and all. Hopefully." - Victoria Clark on Kelli O'Hara, 2016.

[disco-orange]

ODD SQUAD HEADCANONS AAAAHAHAHAHA.

Oona and Oscar are cousins

Every odd squad agent's main partner is their platonic soulmate and it's just kinda perfect through some supernatural means.

Todd and Olive were actually on solidly good terms when Todd got kicked out and the show only showed some of the worst parts to make a point.

Oona, Todd, Oscar, and Otis are autistic. Probably more but I really like these guys specifically.

Olympia, Otto, Olive, Oona, and Todd have ADHD. Again probably many more I just don't wanna list them all.

Otis is a huge fan of grammar and has posters of punctuation marks put up wherever he stays. His favorite is the Oxford comma. He *hates* the tilde because he claims it "looks at him funny."

Otis eats paper. He very adamantly claims "no. It's fine. I digest cellulose perfectly," and no one can figure out if he's actually right or not.

Otis eats cereal with water.

Olympia eats cereal with orange juice!!!! She says she likes the tang.

Both Todd and Otto put the milk before the cereal. Otto doesn't know why he does it, and Todd does it because it optimizes his cereal consumption experience [he is correct.]

Olive only eats dry cereal.

Ms. O/Big O/Oprah snores SUPER loudly.

Otto has superglued his fingers together more than once.

Todd's favorite music genre is classical but specifically the flavor with cannons n shit in the songs. Like "aw yeah I would fight someone to this" classical.

Oona follows Bob Ross tutorials.

Olympia had a phase where she put gems on anything and everything. She still has a pair of glasses from when she put gems on them.

Otis has a hard time with speech and will lose the ability to speak sometimes.

Oona has joint pain in her fingers and can semi-accurately predict whether or not it will precipitate based on said joint pain.

Oona has rats!!!!!!

Todd has always wanted to be a mouse or a really tiny rat. Just for a day. He wants to see what it would be like.

Oscar has re-designed the typing keyboard multiple times.

Oscar Really likes vanilla ice cream. He has a vanilla ice cream-inator that makes anything taste like vanilla ice cream.

Oscar REALLY likes textures.

Olive needs the room to be freezing in order to go to sleep.

Olympia's favorite show would be fraggle rock.

Oona is part squirrel. No one is sure how, none of her relatives are squirrels. It's just her who has squirrel DNA.

Oona has 2 moms.

Orla eats orange peels.

[synoname-wordsmith]

Ice cold lips and burning touch: opla Sanji x gn!reader

A/n: I was definitely projecting with this one

Warning: making out, talking about sex, drowning, scars, body image issues, panic attack... let me know if I missed any

it was a milder than normal day as you and Luffy wasted time on the deck. it had been a while since the ship had docked, and you both were feeling a little stir crazy. you tried to occupy yourself, but the card game you started was quickly abandoned for classic Luffy antics and lighthearted competitions.

"i bet," Luffy shouted from the crow stand above, "i can jump from here to the Jolly Rodger, swing around and land right beside the tangerine trees"

"You are crazy!" you responded with a laugh "get down before i have to put you in a full body cast" Luffy just shook his head and you watched as he backed up until his back met with the edge of the look-out. He then took off running despite your protests. you watched as he leaped over the railing and stretched his arms towards the flag pole. He grasped on, but as he swung around, you heard a sickening snap, and your blood ran cold. the pole broke off, and Luffy was launched overboard.

you screamed his name and ran to the back of the boat. your body moved before you could think, and you launched yourself in after him.

the water engulfed you in a moment, and the icy temperature was a shock to your system. you focused and swam to the surface sucking in a quick breath while scanning the surface of the water. seeing only the straw hat bobbing with the waves you moved as fast as you could manage. your lungs already burned, and every muscle in your body screamed in protest as you grabbed the hat and dived back below. it was pitch black, you couldn't see anything around you. you focused your energy on both your hands, moved them into a prayer position, and, as you pulled them apart, watched as light beamed out of your left palm. using it like a lantern, you looked around for any sign of Luffy. you spotted him below and dived farther from the surface.

you reached Luffy, wrapped your arms around his waist, and kicked your legs hard against the water, making the journey back up. your legs felt like fire as you broke the surface again and fought to keep both you and Luffy above the water. you focused your energy again, begging that you weren't too tired to conjure a little more magic. you shifted Luffy to your left side and began moving your now free right hand in a circular motion. the water around you began to spin in time with your movements, and after a moment, you pulled your hand up and towards the ship. The water moved as if obeying your command, and you felt yourself being lifted into the air and then launched forward. you and Luffy flew up and towards the boat, both landing hard against the wooden deck. the momentum caused you to let go of him as you rolled along the floor and stopped once you collided with a barrel.

you slowly tried to move from your back to your hands and knees. you gasped for the air that was knocked out of you, willing your vision to stop spinning. you made your way to your feet and clumsily stumbled to where Luffy was still lying on the ground. falling to your knees again, you felt strong arms wrap around you and support you, Sanji, you assumed.

"move" you croaked out to Nami, who was attempting CPR on your captain. she did and you leaned in closer to him. placing your hand on his chest, you closed your eyes and tried to sense the water in his lungs. once found you repeated the motion from before and watched as water was pulled from Luffy's parted lips. He began to sputter and cough as you felt your entire body relax. after catching his breath, Luffy sat up and launched himself towards you.

"That was amazing! you are the best sorcerer on the sea!" his arms wrapped around your shoulders and held you in a crushing hug. you laughed, letting the relief rush through your body.

"i doubt that kid, but i'm glad i was competent enough not to let you die"

"More than competent!" he declared with a smile as he made his way to his feet. you mimicked his action and stood up also.

once on your feet, you acknowledged Sanji, feeling an arm snake around you again. you leaned into his side as he kissed the top of your head.

"Are you feeling okay, love?" You mumbled a response, burrowing your body deeper into his side. you turned to look at your captain again, and this time, Usopp spoke.

"Luffy your lips are turning blue, both of you actually, you guys look icicles" you hadn't realized how cold you were until that moment but once aware of it, you couldn't ignore the chill in your body. Sanji looked down at you again, wrapping his other arm around you.

"You need a hot bath love, come i'll get it started." You felt panic crawl up your throat as you responded too quickly.

"No!" You adjusted your tone and pulled away. "No, I'm capable of doing it, plus Luffy probably worked up an appetite, you should assist him," you laughed nervously. Sanji gave you a look but didn't have time to respond because Luffy was on him in a second demanding a feast fit for a king. you were grateful the focus had shifted and turned to walk towards the bathroom. you didn't make it far when everything started spinning, and you felt yourself stumble off balance. Sanji again grabbed you and pulled you into him.

"You pushed yourself too hard dear, let me help you." panic started surfacing again, but before you could conjure a valid excuse, Nami interjected.

"i'll help her, Sanji, dont worry. go make Luffy something so he shuts up." Sanji looked apprehensive, but let Nami take you by the waist and help you towards the bath. himself being pulled towards the kitchen by a shouting Luffy.

*****

the door of the bathroom closed, and Nami set you down on a chair. you felt your body sink into it as you closed your eyes again. you would never admit how much energy it really took to focus and control the magic that flowed through you, especially if the energy source was your own chakras. usually, you could sustain it longer from pulling energy from sources around you, the more organic the more effective, but you managed what you could in this instance.

you inhaled the scent of herbs and oils as steam fogged the room.

"Ready when you are," Nami spoke, and you opened your eyes. you got up and undressed, subconsciously moving your gaze away from the mirror in the corner. you slipped under the hot water and audibly sighed.

"Do you want help with your hair, or can you manage?" You assured her you could, but instead of leaving, she sat in the seat you just occupied. "i have a feeling Sanji would have my head if i didn't stay and make sure you don't drown." You laughed and started working shampoo through your knotted hair. moving quickly to the conditioner when Nami spoke again.

"Speaking of Sanji, why isn't he in here with you instead of me?" You froze for a moment, then sighed, moving your hands from your hair to wrap around your knees, now pulled into your chest.

"He hasn't seen me naked yet." You looked down at your hands in the water. Nami cocked an eyebrow.

"So you haven't told him about the scars... at all?" You didn't answer. "i thought you were getting past hating them." You looked up and turned to her.

"it's not that i hate them, its just if he sees them, hes gonna want to talk about them and i don't want to relive the memories, all the horrible things i did" Nami sighed this time and came to kneel beside you.

"i know you know this, and i know i've said it before, but nothing you did was in your control. and the scars dont take away from your beauty. and i strongly believe Sanji will hold the same opinion." You half smiled, knowing she was probably right. Sanji adored you, and your relationship was stronger than a few reminders of haunting memories. "Also, how has he not seen you naked? don't you guys go at it like rabbits?" You genuinely laughed at that.

"Up until now, it's just been rendezvous in storage closets and empty rooms. we haven't had proper in a bed sex yet. felt too intimate for friends with benefits. " Nami hummed a response, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as you finished up in the bath.

***

you had resolved yourself to talk with Sanji, but ultimately lost your nerve and found yourself in your room after supper, occupying your time with a book. the sun had set beyond the horizon when there was a knock at your door.

"Come in." The door opened, and Sanji entered.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"better, the hot bath and food helped." Sanji moved to sit against the backboard of your bed.

"Good," he gestured to him. you obliged and sat beside him, leaning into his side. "You gave us all quite the scare today." You took his hand and intertwined your fingers.

"By us, do you mean you?" you asked with a smirk, kissing his shoulder.

"Maybe," he kissed the top of your head, then connected his lips to yours. the kiss was soft and sweet, and you turned your body towards him. he deepened the kiss and became hungrier as his arms grabbed under your ass and pulled you onto his lap. now, straddling him, you kissed from his lips to his jaw and down his neck. licking and sucking your way down the exposed skin of his partially unbuttoned shirt. you moved back up, and he grabbed your face with both his hands when your lips met again. moving your hands to his hair, you allowed his tongue access when he ran it along your bottom lip. as your tongues fought for dominance, Sanji moved his hands down to your hips, slipping his hands under your robe to squeeze at the skin. he made a move to untie the robe, and you froze without thinking your hand shot down to stop his movements.

"baby its okay." he kissed you again and tried to move his hand to the knot again. You again stopped him. he pulled away from you. "Hey, is everything okay?" he moved his hands to your shoulders. you looked away, embarrassed, but he guided your face back to his with a hand. "we only have to go as far as you are comfortable hun'." he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your embarrassment.

"im sorry" you whispered, turning to kiss his hand.

"Nothing to apologize for. i'm just trying to understand." You leaned forward and burrowed your face in the nape of his neck. he smelled like sage and cigarettes. "Are you self-conscious? i noticed your reaction back on the deck. Are you afraid i will judge you?" You shook your head and dug your face deeper in, as if if you could dig deep enough you could hide from the embarrassment. he wrapped his arms around you. "Then what, dear?"

"i dont really want to talk about it"

"Love, we gotta talk about it." You didn't respond. he sighed and started rubbing a hand up and down your back "you are the most amazing, beautiful, kind person i know and nothing you are about to say will change that, love" something in you snapped in that moment, his kind words felt false. a compliment you couldn't accept, not with the history you had. you scoffed and untangled yourself from him, getting off the bed and standing in the middle of the room. "i dont understand how you dont see it too. Everyone on this crew adores you"

you felt a hot anger bubble in you, anger at how genuine he was, at how you couldn't accept the sweet words and anger that you felt this way at all. that you couldn't be logical and get past the disdain for the scars. the constant reminder of your past.

"You want to know!" You snapped, your voice harsh and cold. you untied the robe and let it fall to the floor now standing in just your underwear. for the first time, you had revealed yourself to Sanji, all of you, including the scars littered across your skin. from your ankles to your collarbones, your body was covered with scars, some deeper and larger than others. the most concentrated across your back. "You see this? you see how ugly this is?" Your voice rose as you gestured to yourself."Every single one of these scars i got by threatening, stealing from, and killing innocent people. i've ruined lives, Sanji, i've destroyed families. " You stopped shouting, and a deep grief washed over you. tightening your throat and flooding your eyes with tears. "when i look in the mirror, all i see is them, their terrified faces" you turned to the mirror in the corner to emphasize your point and the tears almost immediately began to fall down your face.

you could see Sanji's reflection, he didnt say anything, and he didn't move a muscle. the expression on his face was hard to read through your tears, but you assumed it was disgust. you couldn't think of anything else it could be. you began to cry harder until sobs racked your body, and your face fell into your hands. that's when Sanji finally moved.

he got up quickly and moved in front of you, wrapping his arms around your shaking figure. you knees buckled, and Sanji gently guided you to the floor. he pulled you into his lap and held you in a strong grip and let you sob into his shirt. he held you while your shallow, panicked breathing slowed, and you became quiet. you held your face against Sanji's shoulder and made no effort to move for what felt like an eternity. if you looked up, you would have to face reality, face whatever disgust Sanji held for you.

he guided your face up with his fingers, and you adverted your eyes. Sanji adjusted himself to sit behind you. you both faced the mirror now, you sitting in front of Sanji, who had his legs on either side of yours and rested his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me, love." Your eyes found his face through the reflection, and he was looking right at you. "When i look at you, all i see is a survivor. i see a strong, smart person who did what they had to do to survive." he leaned down and kissed a scar on your left shoulder. "Who was stolen from their home and put in an impossible position." he kissed another scar. "someone who was taken advantage of by bad people and who ultimately fought for their own freedom" kiss. "someone who is beautiful not despite the scars, but because the scars tell your story. and that story is not of a murderer, but of a survivor"

the tears started streaming down your face again, and you tried to cover it with your hands, but Sanji stopped you. He turned you to face him and took your hands in both of his, kissing small scars on your palms, then took your face in his hands, wiping tears as they fell. "i understand why you feel the way you do, and i understand it will take time for you to see yourself the way i do, but i will work everyday for the rest of my life if i have to, to prove to you that you are worthy and beautiful and so deserving of good things" you let out a shaky laugh of disbelief and wrapped your arms around Sanji's neck. you couldn't believe you met someone as wonderful as him in such a cruel world, but as you sat there with his strong arms holding you and him whispering sweet nothings to you, you started believe his words. for the first time, you believed you might be worthy of something more

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Post-Mortem

Summary: Spencer wants to get back with Reader a month after their breakup, and it doesn't go the way he planned.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst

Content warning: Breakup, recovering from heartbreak, rejection, sad ending

Word count: 1.3k

Spencer Reid broke my heart, plain and simple. Eight months of wonder and joy were destroyed at one dinner. A romantic one, just to twist the knife more. I was sure we would’ve been together longer, which is why it felt like the world caved in when he ended it. I never felt so broken. At that moment, I could say it was the dinner to end all dinners. Because I told Spencer I never wanted to see him again.

So you can imagine his surprise (and mine) when I agreed to meet him for a coffee a month later. I took deep breaths in the car because, like the breakup, this location was just as methodical. The spot where we first met in our respective rushes to work, he decided would be the last. When opening the shop door and hearing the familiar bell ding, it's like a neck-breaking transport. And when I spot Spencer at a table, with two cups and a pastry wrapped in front of him, the reminder to breathe comes back. 

One of the most painful things about heartbreak is that it doesn’t rip up memories like your body. They’re as clear as ever when Spencer stands from his seat while we lock eyes. The chair legs scooting across the floor were as loud as it was when we came here for quick breakfasts. Quick breakfasts were never my choice, but duty calling never involves convenience. A call from Spencer’s phone was equivalent to a brace for impact. The anxiety of waiting for the pleasantries to inevitably end was as real as the others in the shop turning their heads at the sound of Spencer’s chair. Brief and dreadful.

Nevertheless, I walked forward, keeping eye contact and an optimistic look. “Hey,” I said.

“Hi.” His hand pops up to wave as his lips thin out in his classic unrelaxed half-smile. “How are you?”

I sit. “Alright.” I can lie if I try hard enough. That’s one perk of dating a profiler. “You?”

“Good.” He nods while shifting in his seat. “Yeah, good.”

“You look exhausted.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Did you just get back from a case?”

“Yeah, last night. Los Angeles.” He rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept. “I got you an iced vanilla latte.” He points to the cup, condensation already layering the outside of it.

I take a sip. It’s watered-down but sweet. “Thanks.”

He then slides the mystery pastry toward me. “And a scone.”

This will be a long sit-down. He wants it to be. I can smell the scone. Nostalgia hits hard and doesn’t apologize. “Chocolate Chunk,” I say. It’s what I ordered the first time. He and his damned eidetic memory remember how I entertain desserts whenever I eat somewhere. And I remember our last dinner, how he ended it before they even had a chance to offer the selections. I didn’t touch it. Instead, I leaned in my chair. I thought I should kick back. “Why’d you call me here, Spencer?”

He looked around the room as if others wanted to listen in on this riveting conversation. He takes his coffee and slowly sips, putting it down. “One of the victims, her girlfriend… or ex-girlfriend was devastated during our interview. They had been on a break and she —”

“Regretted the way things ended, and now that she’s dead she can’t say sorry.” I’ll admit I didn’t care for my monotone voice, but he’s told me similar stories and a range of others that cut him deep. And I listened and held him then.

Then is, unfortunately, not now.

Spencer’s eyes darted from the cup to the scone, to me, back to the scone, then to me again. “I really am sorry.” His voice is strained.

I gripped my sweater sleeves under the table, like how the dinner ended. Except I stood up from the table with my fists deep in the soft linen covering it. The anger boiling inside fueled my force as I walked out of the restaurant. It was literally a raging spectacle, despite the deafening sound of my heart cracking in my ears.

The anger had long subsided. “I know.”

His eyebrows raised, likely expecting a more spit-in-your-face response. “You do?”

“The phone calls made it easy to assume.” That doesn’t mean I answered. He called once a week, but picking up the phone any earlier than yesterday would’ve led to undignified sniffles, giving me away instantly. My broken heart has calcified significantly in record time.

Spencer nodded. “I know I hurt you, and I hope you can forgive me someday.” For a minute, I wondered if this was the workings of a genius or a psychopath (he hangs around enough of both). Because despite the cruelty of such a planned-out ending, I somehow felt sorry for him. And I hate to admit there’s a small part of me that wants to crumble to his side.

“It’ll be okay,” I told him. “Water’s making its way under the bridge.” Time was all I needed.

Quiet takes over for a brief moment between us, and even though we’ve been apart for a month, it doesn’t take away the other eight. Spencer’s eyes, puppy-like in shape and oaky in color, are as obvious as the rest of his behavior.

“That isn’t why you wanted me here. Isn't it?"

He licks his lips and shakes his head. “I was hoping… in due time, of course, we could try again.”

The sigh that came out of me was involuntary. I wouldn’t have held back my response even a week ago, and he was lucky about that. “Spencer, I’m sorry. It may not feel like it now, but I think, in retrospect, you made a wise choice.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Nothing has changed. You were just in Los Angeles.”

“But I could try harder. Like you wanted." He swallows again. “I miss you.”

Damn, that was all I thought.

“Well,” I cleared my throat. It didn’t help. “Maybe… maybe we can be friends someday. But for now, I hate to say this,” I do. “But it might be a smart idea to keep our separate ways for a while.”

The best thing I could do is avoid diving headfirst into my true feelings. To expect things to suddenly change just because he wants to return. It's vulnerability and blissful ignorance I can’t afford. Calcified is an accurate way to describe my current state, but fragility is still there. I’ve managed to get to bed without crying for a week, but the sucker punch of memories, the freshness is very prevalent. I can still pretend here.

Spencer though, no matter how hard he tries, is not a stoic person. It’s not in him. If he’s angry, it comes out in passive-aggressive remarks or emotional outbursts containing at most a single swear word. And when sadness comes, tears are sure to follow.

I see one fall, and I try to avoid erosion as he wipes the trail off his cheek. “I understand.” He doesn’t look up.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” That's all I can say. Having the tables turned is painful.

“I don’t blame you. I handled it terribly.”

I said nothing.

“And if I could, I’d —”

His phone vibrated. Brace.

“Duty calls,” I say with a lilt, and he isn't amused. I take another sip of my coffee before I scoot my chair back.  I push the scone toward him, but he stops me halfway. We don’t flinch at the contact, fingers nearly laced.

“It’s yours. You take it.” He pushed.

“I think you need it more." I push.

“Please.” He adds force.

I let go, leaving his hand alone on the wooden surface. I try to concoct a smile. “Take care of yourself, Spencer.” I stand up from my chair and turn to head toward the exit. The ding of the bell comes and goes, and the sun splashes my face with warmth. Tears collect and cool my cheeks as I walk to the car, but I let them.

[seoksgrl]

happier than ever, 5. : knj namjoon x reader friends to strangers to lovers

tws: alcoholism, depression, mention of attempted suicide

note: whoops in classic me fashion i accidentally took a 3 month from updating lol. well...here it is. sidenote, i did used to work in mental health, but my knowledge is a little fuzzy, so if anything is wrong or inaccurate, pls just ignore bc after all...this is just a fanfic :)

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Namjoon doesn’t even think before he shrugs out of his jacket, Jooheon watching the water where you disappeared with wide eyes, lips parted in shock. It’s only when the splash and crackle of Namjoon’s boot on the ice fills the air alongside the two men’s harsh, panicked breaths that Jooheon even reacts.

“What - Namjoon you can’t go in there, let me call for an ambulance -”

Namjoon isn’t listening to his friend’s worries, his frame is heavier than your own, and the thin ice cracks under his weight before he even gets past the old pier. The frigid water takes his breath away, but he inhales a couple of deep breaths to try and keep his mind focused, to stop his body from going into shock too quick. He needs to get to you, needs to see you bob up through the choppy waves in the gap your body made through the ice. 

His fist aches from where he smashes the ice, relieved at how thin it is all while his body shakes against the cold and the terror of that image locked in his mind, your tired, devastated face disappearing beneath the water. It’s a moment that will haunt him for the rest of his life, and he just hopes that’s the only image that does. 

Jooheon is calling out his name on the bank in between talking to the emergency services on his cell phone, and Namjoon blocks him out, his haggard breaths forced from his tight through against the freezing lake that envelopes his body, soaks into his clothes and his bones. Once he gets close enough to where you went under, he sucks in a quick, deep breath and drops beneath the surface. 

The cold, murky water of the lake burns his eyes as he fights against the automatic instinct to close them. He’s too focused on finding you to worry about whatever water parasites he might contract swimming around in this old, unkempt reservoir. His eyes squint against the darkness, various shapes and shadows under the water catch his attention as he swims deeper, long forgotten boats that had sunk long ago, or trash thrown in by people passing by. God knows this isn’t a tourist destination anymore, not that Namjoon remembers people coming to the lake when the two of you were young. It was always your safe place. 

Now he wants nothing more than to get you both far away from here. 

Through the misty, green water, Namjoon spots a shape that can only be you, and he prays silently to himself that this isn’t some cruel figment of his imagination. Your body drifts in the water, arms uplifted, legs bent slightly. You’re not fighting, and Namjoon screams your name beneath the water, but the sound dies in a flurry of bubbles. The taste of the lake chokes him as he rushes to you, feet kicking hard in his heavy winter boots. There’s a burst of movement as his fingers grip your arm, the soft material of your sweater sodden and heavy, his skin numb as he wraps his arm around your waist, glancing up to see the faint outline in the ice before he swims up, resurfacing with a gasp. 

His eyes blink furiously, and he’s not sure if it's the lake or whether there are tears flowing down his cheeks, but his throat closes around your name, the sound escaping his lips in a ragged cry. His hands are useless, riddled with pins and needles, but he grips your cheeks anyway, shaking you, trying to do anything to wake you up. Blue and red lights beckon him from the bank, and he smashes through the ice blocking his previous path, dragging you ashore as the ambulance pulls up. His entire body shakes, and he can’t stop himself from attempting to revive you, needing to work quicker, hardly able to wait for the paramedics to get here before he’s pinching your nose, tugging your jaw open and sealing his lips over yours. He blows in a long gust of air, moving back to pump a couple times before hands are pulling him off of you. 

“No! No - I have to - She needs to wake up -”

Jooheon grips his arms, pulling him back and out of the way from the paramedics, “Let them do their job, man. You need to warm up,”

Then there’s a woman surrounding him with a blanket, stepping in front of him and blocking his line of sight as he paramedics begin to pump at your chest, placing a mask over your face as one guy pumps the large, plastic apparatus. He can’t breathe, feeling as if he’s drowning along with you, and his legs give out while Jooheon follows him down to the floor, crowding him with arms that make him feel as if he’s suffocating. 

“Please, please, please…” He mutters to himself, too quiet for anyone to hear. Hot tears run down his face now, and seconds turn into minutes as the paramedics continue trying to revive your cold, lifeless body. 

It feels like years pass before your chest moves jaggedly, body bucking as you choke on the small amount of water in your lungs. The sound of your first hoarse breath is like music to Namjoon’s ears, and he falls back onto his ass on the soggy bank of the lake, his face in his hands as he sobs harder than he has ever in his life. 

There’s soreness all over your body when you wake up, your eyes unable to open while your hazy, addled mind tries to catch up. There’s something in your throat, something around your mouth, and you begin to panic, your eyes springing open into the harsh white light as your legs thrash.

“Shh, we’ve got you, Y/N,” A soft, feminine voice, slightly muffled, comes from beside you, and your eyes roll to look up at them. Their face is blurry, half covered with a mask, and you realise quickly that you’re in a hospital room, “This is gonna be uncomfortable so just try to breathe through your nose for me,”

You try to do as the doctor says, but the instrument being slowly removed from your throat makes you gag repeatedly, eyes stinging with tears until it passes your lips. Your mouth feels dry, lips cracked and sore. There’s a familiar smell stuck in your nostrils, a natural, watery scent that mingles unpleasantly with the sterile aroma of the hospital. 

“I -” You cough, swallowing hard as your bruised throat contracts, “I can’t afford this,”

The nurse looks down at you, eyes soft and full of pity, just as you hate. When they speak, your brows draw together, “The bill is covered, please try to rest,”

“But -”

The nurse doesn’t wait to hear your protests, instead leaving the room and walking out into the corridor. You look around the room, alone and confused at how you got here or what has happened in the last however many hours its been since you visited your mother’s grave at the cemetery. It’s only when you remember laying a cheap, plastic-wrapped bundle of flowers at her gravestone that you recall what your intentions had been; the lake, the ice, the wine you’d gulped at for courage, it all comes back to you in a wave of humiliation and dread. 

That familiar, dark shadow raises it’s head once more in the form of a thirst for something you know damn well you can’t get at a hospital, and so you look around and down at your form, eyes snagging on the tube that’s been inserted into your arm. It’s still a little sore, as is the rest of your body, especially your chest. There are a few long, heavy minutes where you contemplate pulling the foreign object out of your arm when you feel the presence of someone enter the room. 

“You’re awake,” Namjoon says, and your eyes close on impact, like the sound of it hurts. And it does, especially when you’re mostly sober. That’s why you need to numb it all, and why you need to get out of here. 

“I have to go,” You say, your hand reaching for the tube and tugging. It hurts, and you wince, but carry on until a pair of warm hands cover your hand, stopping your movements.

“Y/N, please don’t do that,”

“Get off me,” You say, voice failing to hold the anger you feel towards the man before you. The feeling of his skin touching yours is almost painful, and to get away from his touch, you rip your hands out from under his, aborting your plan to pull out the tube, “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home,”

“You can’t go home yet,” Namjoon says, still standing close to your bed. You feel trapped, suffocated and completely unable to look at him, so instead you pick at a stray thread on the blanket, “they’ve arranged for someone to come and talk to you,”

This is where you look up at him, your eyes lifting to greet Namjoon’s face, concern etched into his features. It leaves you breathless and pissed off all at once, “What do you mean? I don’t need to talk to anyone,”

“Y/N,” He sighs, looking exasperated, the bags under his eyes out of place when you’re so used to seeing him upbeat, friendly, “you tried to drown yourself,”

There’s something strange in hearing the words come from Namjoon’s lips, even when it’s the truth. You had intended to do that, and you’d wanted to succeed, too. But for some reason it makes you feel embarrassed and caught out when he points out the fact.

There’s a long moment of silence between the two of you, and you can feel Namjoon’s eyes on your face, his hands still brushing the blanket where your arm had been. It’s too much, you feel naked under his watchful eye, and it’s almost as if you’re a child being chastised. 

“I know you’re mad at me,” He says, voice quiet and pleading, “and I am too. I’m pissed off at myself for letting this much time get between us. I should’ve been here,”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me,” Is your reply, even when your throat tightens upon hearing the softness in his voice. Your body is simply reacting to the words you wanted to hear for years, the moment you imagined might happen five or seven years after the two of you stopped talking. But it’s been twelve years, and you’re incapable of feeling anything anymore.

Maybe if Namjoon had reached out a year or two ago, you wouldn’t feel this way, but it hurts more to think about forgiving him than it does to keep being mad, and so you do that. 

“I think you’re wrong,” Namjoon replies, and it’s not at all what you expect him to say, or what you imagine most people would say in reply to you claiming your independence. Your eyes fly up to meet his and his head is tilted inquisitively, as if he’s waiting for something.

“Excuse me?”

He clears his throat, looking away when you meet his line of sight head on, “I don’t think you can always look after yourself. I think you need someone to look out for you, and for the last year, or maybe longer, you haven’t had that,” he swallows, and you wonder if he is nervous, “you’ve been alone. And that’s partly my fault,”

Even as you frown at the side of his face, you have a sense that he may be right. Maybe this last year would have been easier if he had been around, or if Seokjin hadn’t fucked your best friend during your bachelorette party, or if you had any friends left in Yeocho. After you began drinking heavily, people didn’t want to be around you, and it’s safe to say you burnt some bridges with your actions and some of the shit you said. But you’ve gotten so used to people leaving, to being alone, that the idea of letting someone in, or back in, makes you feel itchy all over. It makes you feel vulnerable in ways you haven’t had to in so long. 

Namjoon turns back to look at you, then, possibly wondering why you haven’t replied. His lips part, as if he wants to say more, but someone else steps into the room, a doctor in a long, white coat followed by another person in a shirt and tie. 

“Miss Y/N, I’m pleased to see you’re awake,” The doctor says, his eyes darting between you and Namjoon. He smiles warmly at you both, and for a second it actually feels nice for someone to view you with something other than pity or second hand embarrassment, “My name is Doctor Chen, this is my colleague, Doctor Ryu. We’d just like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind,”

Licking your lips, you sit up, pushing against the mattress and lifting your weakened, bruised body until you’re sitting, “I don’t believe I have a choice,”

Namjoon sighs your name, and you almost turn to him before Dr Ryu steps forward, his demeanour open and relaxed, “I understand that this probably feels overwhelming, but we truly just want to have a chat for the moment. Is that okay?”

Despite everything, your eyes find Namjoon’s, his brows lifted as he looks down at you with tired eyes, but for a moment his lips twitch into a smile, oddly comforting despite your anger with his presence. 

“Fine,” You say, turning back to Dr Ryu and Dr Chen, “but I’d like to be alone,”

Namjoon nods like he was expecting the dismissal, and smiles at the two doctors before looking back at you, “I’ll go get some coffee and leave you to it,”

There’s a long moment of silence where you watch the doorway, eyes lingering on where Namjoon walked out into the hall for some inexplicable reason, and you find yourself turning away and letting your eyes land on the two doctors in front of you. Their soft smiles and penetrating stares leave you feeling naked, exposed like a raw nerve as they wait for you to talk first. 

“So, what exactly do I need to say to you in order to get out of here?”

Dr Ryu is the first to react, his lips lifting a little as if this isn’t the first time he’s heard those words. Dr Chen looks marginally more uncomfortable, adjusting his watch absentmindedly. He allows Dr Ryu to answer, and you realise that of the two, he must be the psychiatrist. 

“I’m sure you are aware of the gravity of your situation, Y/N. We don’t have to sugar coat it for you,” His voice is calm and cool like an early morning by the lake, and the fact that this is the first thing you think of almost has a bubble of hysterical laughter crawling up your throat. Irony at it’s finest, you suppose. “What happened at the lake was a suicide attempt, and in order for us to make sure you have the help you need, there will have to be several assessments done before we can discharge you,”

When the first few visions of your plan first came into focus, you were so sure you’d thought of everything. Seokjin didn’t need you, there were no pets to look after or give away, no job to call in sick to. All you had to do was die. 

It never ever occurred to you what might happen if it didn’t work. If someone saved you. But perhaps a part of you should have been prepared for this; the worried glances, the questions, the soft, pleading stares from two men in white coats. 

When you don’t answer, Dr Ryu is the first to break the silence once again, his posture relaxed as he leans back to look at you, “When was the first time you had these suicidal thoughts, Y/N? Can you tell me a little about what life has been like the last few years?”

The memories come unbidden, sober thoughts flashing behind your eyelids like the harsh rays of sunlight when someone rips the curtains away from the window to wake you up. Your sober mind can’t shake them off, can’t let them fade away, so instead you’re punished with them, haunted by the memories of finding Seokjin and Yeji after your bachelorette party, repo men carrying out your computer from the studio. 

Your mother’s pale, gaunt face turned towards you as she lay dying. 

Your eyes screw shut against the glare of years worth of pain, and you swallow it all down like a bitter pill, “I don’t want to do this,”

Dr Ryu doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to calm you or change the subject. Instead he leaves you to feel your feelings, to let your mind circle through the memories as you unwittingly pinpoint exactly where your life turned to shit. 

“I was engaged,” You say, the words forced out of you in a shattering exhale, “and then I wasn’t. I owned an art studio, and then I didn’t. My mother was alive, and now she’s -” It’s hard to say the word, despite the fact you’ve said it countless times in drunken rambles to old school friends at the bar, even to Namjoon when he showed up in your kitchen that morning. But it feels so much harsher to say it when sober, and you stutter, frightened as if saying it makes it all the more final. “She’s dead,”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Ryu says, his face is soft, sincere, and you have to look away with a nod, “Is this when you began to drink?”

There’s a bolt of shame that races over your skin when he says those words, even without the accusatory tone it still feels as if you’re being judged. When you first started drinking, it was just an excuse to blow off steam, to ignore what you were feeling day to day. But then it snowballed, until it felt as if you couldn’t go a day without having a drink.

A drink became a bottle, and a bottle became two bottles. So on and so forth. 

“I partied a little when the studio got repossessed. But after my mom died I…” You shrug, unsure if you can even explain your actions for the last year or so adequately, “It helps,”

Dr Chen takes over for a little while, going over the logistics, how much exactly you have on a daily basis. Then he explains the dangers you pose, the damage you could do - have already done - if you were to carry on this way. 

“You’re still young, and thankfully the damage we’ve seen so far is reversible, but that would require total sobriety,” Dr Chen says, serious and stern, “We can prescribe some medication to help with the withdrawal symptoms, but these are to be closely monitored by your physician, and it would help to have someone at home to make sure you have a support system in place. Is there anyone you know who would be willing to stay with you? Or vice versa?”

“I…” It’s a lot of information to process, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed, those dark thoughts creeping in once more and reminding you how easy it would be if you were left at the bottom of that lake. 

“Y/N,” Dr Ryu says, “we want to work with you, to get you healthy both physically and mentally. Now, I know this may be difficult to hear, but if we feel you do not have a support system in place to help you through this process, it may be best if you were to enter a rehab facility. There you would have access to psychiatrists like myself, along with doctors specifically trained in drug and alcohol abuse,”

“What’s the alternative?” You ask, “I want to go home, is there any way I can go home?”

Dr Ryu offers you a gentle smile, a hand landing atop yours, “Do you have someone back at home, Y/N?”

It's at that moment that you hear footsteps approaching the door, and you turn just in time to see Namjoon standing at the threshold, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand as he glances between you and the two doctors with parted lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,”

The thought pops into your head like a faulty lightbulb. 

It’s hardly true, and you can always find a way out of it eventually, but you turn back to Dr Ryu and open your mouth anyway, the lie spilling past your lips before you can stop it. 

Four days, and dozens of assessments later, you’re signing discharge papers and leaving beside Namjoon, his gaze steady and warm, mistakenly believing that you’ve forgiven him. That you’ll lean on him for support. 

Little does he know, you just needed a ticket out of this clinical hell, and he was the first person you laid eyes on. 

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