#but hey in hindsight it's a little funny

[electronicfoxnerd]

Is lestappen real?

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Walking a couple of leather clad women around Amish town would be hilarious.

Don't mind us. Get down and clean your paws now. That's a good kitty. Now clean your mistress's boots while you are down there

Meanwhile Jedediah is scraping along the brick paven road on his horse drawn carriage and looks over.

*clack clack clack*

These damn sinners I yell. I thought this place was better than that. And I slap both of your asses and we walk away

There is a clatter as Jedediah crashes into the gift shop on the corner.

I dunno, we vanish or something.

[relentlessgrief]

The woods were quite lonely. At best, the only company the undead was kept with were the birds that would often find themselves gently trying to seek refuge between the ribcage, or within the eye sockets of his skull.

Trying to avoid anyone and everyone over a time was exhausting--mentally, not physically. The mere snap of a twig would set off panic and cause him to go crawling up a tree with the grace of a limp halla. There were no muscles to tense, no lungs to hold a breath, nor a heartbeat to pound within his hollow chest, but there was plenty of anxiety.

"Solas." He repeats, experimenting with the sound. It comes off as a drawl, slowly crawling its way out. It's a good name. A nice name. Easy to say. He likes that name.

The second set of arms begin to unveil themselves behind the creature's back, tattered cloth tied to the wrists giving them an appearance akin to wings.

One thing at a time. No need for the tentacles just yet.

The undead leans forward, desperate to approach the elf, but he stills himself, forces himself to remain planted where he is. The immediate desire for a connection of any kind after so long in solitude has him eager and excited. But also nervous.

"I would like that. Very much. As long as it would not be a burden unto you or others. I do not wish to create undue hardship. For you or anyone else that would be involved."

“That’s alright,” Solas said gently. “It is easy to get lost in this world, and no simple thing to find your way again."

Solas lowered himself, to the ground sitting back on his feet as he made a careful study of its appearance and the aura surrounding it. The chill nipped at his cheeks. He could not immediately determine whether this was a spirit possession, a shade, or something else.

He slowly held up his hand. "A promise is reassurance enough," he said. “My name is Solas. I am traveling with a small party of the Inquisition, a somewhat dissonant arm of the southern Chantry. They do not seek you, lethallin," he reassured in the same breath, "but a way through these woods. If you wish to remain, I can mask you from their attention. They will not know you're here. If you seek to leave..."

He paused, looking over his shoulder back in the direction of the camp while he thought. The Inquisition had tolerated Cole, but barely, and after prolonged arguments with the First Enchanter in Skyhold's courtyard. Their ability to be progressive in thought was lackluster, in his estimation. But human superstition had a funny way of ignoring their dogma when it served their interests. "I have heard tell of guardian spirits who inhabit forests. They live entirely outside of the Fade, making their homes in grand oaks, powerful rivers, or even corpses. The humans tolerate them well, for they know in their presence, no harm shall come to them that the forest does not wish, so long as they respect it." He turned back to the creature. "Perhaps the Inquisition can be convinced that you are one such spirit, should you wish to journey with us out of these woods."

[homunculus-argument]

Weird to realise in hindsight about how the things you were taught at home are actually weird, when you exclusively interact with people who aren't weird about that specific thing. Not even things you were explicitly taught at home, but something you just picked up from just the way your family talked about things and looked at you when you talked about something they didn't approve of.

At one point I thought it'd be funny to have a car that's decorated in some novelty way, with a distinct theme of some sort - the kind of vehicles you sometimes see around town and mention to your friend like "hey I saw that cool car again, the one with the funny novelty decor on it" and it just brightens your day a little to be reminded that someone actually went out of their way to have a car that's like idk painted entirely in tiger stripes just to get a laugh out of people.

And my sister looked at me like I'd just said something disgusting and said "so you just want to draw attention to yourself." My mother agreed that a vehicle that stands out in a way that's distracting could pose a danger in traffic and might cause accidents. With my fun idea expertly deflated, I didn't want a fun novelty car anymore.

This morning my boyfriend showed me an electric scooter he found online, and we agreed that while the ~Sleek Modern Design~ itself was boring as hell, essentially just a rectangle with wheels, it would at least have a good blank canvas for custom print wrap. You could probably get a print/paint job of a photorealistic leather texture on it and look like you're driving an oldschool leather suitcase around town. That would make people look twice.

And it popped into my head that now hold on, why did my family think so badly about that sort of thing in the first place? Why is it bad to draw attention to yourself, where the fuck did this "all attention is negative attention" attitude even come from? Did they really think that it's a sin for any person to want to be seen and/or heard at all, or was it just me who shouldn't want to remind people that I exist?

People need weird, unexpected little novelties in their life to not get bored of living. I'm allowed to to be weird just to get a chuckle out of people who needed one.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: Oliver Aiku isn’t sure which entity he’s wronged to earn this kind of treatment, but somehow, in the days before the match against Blue Lock, he’s stuck watching over the team’s newest addition: Sae Itoshi, a rude midfielder who’d rather be in Spain (or in hell) than hanging out with him. Things get a little more complicated, though, when a cup of shitty coffee leads to a crush and Aiku is forced to intervene.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, sae my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader has to work in customer service 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, sae is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), sae slander (from aiku), reader is a fan girl but she keeps it 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙, reader’s dad has cameos but he’s just chilling tbh

A/N: the people wanted sae’s version to be posted first so uhhh here we are!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long (as usual) but it’s very silly and goofy!! anyways so this is the first entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Oliver Aiku likes to think he��s a fairly nice guy. He visits his grandmother every weekend, he rescues kittens from gutters (okay, it only happened once, but he still did it, so it counts), and he’s good enough at being captain of the Japanese U-20s that none of his teammates really hate him, so all in all, he can’t be doing that bad of a job. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s a great person, a stand-up fellow, an upstanding member of society — so why the fuck is Sae Itoshi glaring at him like that?

“What?” he says, because it was fine for the first, say, twenty minutes or so, but now it’s gone from annoying to just plain concerning. “Something going on with you?”

Sae stares at him for a moment longer, and Aiku wonders if he’s trying to communicate via telepathy. That’s a skill he’s never picked up, though, so he can only wait for Sae to speak up, which, thankfully, he eventually does.

“This coffee is shit,” he says. The way he speaks is dull and blank, his lips pinched together and his brows low over his eyes. It’s kind of a shame, in Aiku’s highly professional opinion. He’d be handsome if he smiled more; or, if not handsome, at least approachable enough to not scare away every single girl that dared to even glance at him.

“It’s not my fault,” Aiku says. “Take it up with the barista or something.”

“You’re the one who brought me here, so it is your fault,” Sae says. Aiku crosses his arms, because isn’t Sae younger than him? This feels like a level of disrespect he shouldn’t tolerate, prodigy or not.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. In hindsight, it’s not the most mature response he could’ve come up with, and Sae seems to agree, snorting derisively before using a napkin to dab at a drip of coffee running down the side of his cup.

“What a captain,” he says with a sigh. “No wonder you guys need me to play for you against those Blue Lock idiots.”

Aiku should be offended, he really should be — and he is! He is, and he’s just about to muster up some scathing retort that’ll definitely leave Sae Itoshi trembling, but then Sae’s standing up with purpose, so now he’s just intrigued instead of insulted. He follows after him as Sae holds the coffee in one hand and marches towards the counter, and when he realizes what’s about to happen, he preemptively cringes.

“Don’t yell at service workers!” Aiku says. It would’ve been heroic if he had said it loud enough for Sae to hear him, but unfortunately, it’s more of a whisper than the brave shout he had intended for it to be, so he just looks kind of stupid, as if he regularly talks to himself or something.

“Hey,” Sae says to the boy at the counter. He’s young, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, and Aiku prays that he’s not the target of Sae’s ire. “Who made this?”

The boy squints at Sae’s cup, reading the receipt, and then he smiles innocently. “That was Y/N. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Yes,” Sae says bluntly. Aiku is about to thank whichever deity was watching over him and that boy alike, but he pauses when the rest of the kid’s statement registers. Her? Her? Is Sae seriously about to yell at a girl for making bad coffee? If she’s hot, he’ll kill Sae, no doubt about it. “And tell her to make it quick. We don’t have all day, and she’s already wasted enough of our time.”

Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. 

“Y/N,” a voice whispers. You’re untying your apron — your shift is just about over, and you’re ready to clock out, but for some reason your young coworker is peering into the kitchen nervously and gesturing for you to come with him. Normally, you’d tell him to handle things himself, but he’s new, so you decide to be responsible for once and follow after him, muttering curses to yourself as you retie your apron.

“What’s the matter? Did you spill something?” you say. He shakes his head, raising his hand and pointing at the counter, where two customers are waiting. You frown, because you’re pretty sure you already gave them their drinks, so there’s no reason for them to be standing there, unless maybe they want to reorder. “Wait. Did you call me to take their order? No way! My shift is over in thirty seconds!”

“No, no, I didn’t,” your coworker says. “They want to talk to you.”

“Me? Like me, specifically?” you say. He nods.

“Yeah, they asked for you by name and everything,” he says earnestly. “I think they’re mad, though.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, because the last thing you want to do is deal with a couple of prissy customers, especially not when you’re supposed to be heading home already. However, your coworker seems to be on the verge of tears, and some kind of sisterly affection tugs at your heartstrings, so you pat him on the shoulder and take his spot at the counter.

“Hi, this is Y/N. My coworker told me you needed to see me. How can I help you?” you say. Your voice is chipper and your smile is false, but they don’t need to know that. You’ve been working at the coffee shop for long enough that you’re practiced at pretending, and you know for a fact that your coworker is standing shyly at your side, probably astonished by the quality of your performance.

For a moment, neither man speaks, so you get to stare at them and make your own assumptions about who they are and what their backstories might be. It’s kind of like a hobby, a pastime for when things are slow or you’re generally annoyed about your job. You’ve developed it over the years, and luckily, these two are prime candidates for the game.

The one on the left is tall and broad, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Curiously, one is a bright green, while the other is a softer violet, and there’s a few-days-old stubble growing on his square face, like a shadow running along his jaw. It gives him a rough appearance, like he owns a motorcycle and frequently wears leather jackets, but you want to believe that he’s gentle at heart. Maybe he has a fondness for baby animals or he likes to bake cookies or something along those lines.

The one on the right is shorter than his counterpart, and his hair is red like a sunset, pushed carelessly out of his haughty face. He’s wearing a sweater that matches his eyes, though the teal of the knitted fabric is much more muted, and you’re about to come up with some kind of fantastical explanation for who he might be when you realize that you know him.

He clears his throat, and you scramble to stand up straighter, internally screaming, because what are the odds that you’ve somehow managed to piss off the star player of your favorite soccer club’s youth team? You wonder what your father will think of you now. You wonder what you think of yourself now. What should you do? Should you tell him you recognize him? Ask for an autograph? Or should you play it cool and pretend like you don’t know him? What if he yells at you?

Actually, you wouldn’t mind it as much as normally do. When everyday customers start screaming at you for some perceived wrong that you’ve supposedly committed, you typically tune them out, and then you make fun of them with your coworkers in the back, but if it’s Sae Itoshi…well. you’ll certainly listen to every word he says, and when you return to the kitchen, you’ll write them down somewhere so you can remember the moment forever.

“He didn’t like his drink,” he says, pointing at the dark haired man.

“What?” the man shrieks. The pitch is higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his size, but it appears he realizes that, too, because then he’s coughing. “I mean, what? What are you talking about?”

“You were just complaining, Aiku,” Sae says. “You even made me come up here and get mad at this girl for you.”

The other man, who you guess is named Aiku, is turning a strange shade between magenta and beet-red, and you’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears. Given that you don’t really care about him that much, you’re instantly irritated again, because why would it matter if he didn’t like his drink? Still, you have to keep up appearances.

“My apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” you say. 

“No!” Aiku says. “No, it’s — hey, Sae, you were the one who was all upset, so why are you putting it on me?”

“Hm?” Sae says, obviously uninterested in the conversation already. “I dunno. Maybe it happened like that, or maybe not.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, more than a little bewildered. “Ah, I’m new here, so I’m still learning.”

Aiku, who has returned to a more normal and human color, smiles at you kindly, and he’s about to respond, ostensibly to reassure you, but then your damned coworker pipes up: “No, she’s not.”

“Ah, sorry?” Aiku says.

“She’s not new,” your coworker says again.

“‘New’ is a subjective term,” you say mechanically, wishing that it was acceptable for you to turn around and hit him in public whenever you wanted.

“I don’t think anyone would consider you to be new when you’ve been working here for three years,” your coworker says. You can imagine the innocent, guileless expression on his face right now. You want to do something violent to it.

“Ha, ha,” you say. You think your eye might twitch, too, but if Aiku or Sae notice, then neither of them point it out. “What a knowledgeable fellow we have back here.”

“It’s alright,” Aiku says. “I didn’t mind the drink. Sae’s the one who threw a fit about it.”

“I liked it,” Sae says stubbornly. “It was fine.”

You step in before Aiku can turn magenta again, because that’s probably unhealthy for him, and you don’t want to be held liable for a customer dying on your watch when you’re not even being paid for it.

“Anyways, is that all? I’m actually done with my shift, so if you guys don’t need anything else…” you trail off, though inside you’re screaming something along the lines of Sae Itoshi, please notice me and give me your autograph and oh, if you could fall in love with me, too, that would be amazing!

Of course, you can’t verbalize anything like that, so you just smile and wave until the door slams shut behind them. Then you’re yanking your apron off and balling it up before chucking it at your coworker’s face. It hits him in the nose and slides to the ground; he gives you an offended look before picking it up.

“You’re lucky it was only an apron,” you say. “You owe me big time, you little shit.”

“Huh?” he says.

“I won’t forget this!” you warn him, stomping towards the small locker room, where your precious phone is waiting for you. “You’re a major-league jerk, okay? Don’t ever ask me to cover another shift for you again!”

“Huh?” 

“What the hell was that?” Aiku snaps as soon as they’ve left the cafe, because this is totally not what he was expecting when his coach told him that he had to treat Sae nicely and make him feel welcome. 

“What was what?” Sae says. He’s sipping on his coffee sedately now, even though he was complaining about it only minutes earlier.

“Since when was I the one who was upset about my coffee?” Aiku says.

“I have a bad memory,” Sae deadpans. “I guess it could’ve been either of us.”

“That was not believable in the slightest,” Aiku feels the need to inform him. Judging by Sae’s expression, it wasn’t meant to be believable, though, and Aiku sighs. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You were just going crazy and glaring at me because you thought the coffee sucked, and now you think it’s good?”

“I should’ve waited for it to cool,” Sae says. “It’s better now. I was being hasty.”

“Uh-huh,” Aiku says. “Sure. Let’s do something else tomorrow. I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t think I can face that girl again. She was so hot, too, and now she probably thinks I’m some ungrateful asshole…”

“I want to go back,” Sae says immediately, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash can. Aiku furrows his brow at him, trying to puzzle out this latest contradiction and finding himself utterly unable to. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Aiku repeats dubiously. Tomorrow he has practice, and technically so does Sae. However, they both know that Sae doesn’t need anything as ridiculous as practice in order to win against a team of eleven high-school forwards, and he’s fairly confident that his coach will tell him to accompany the bratty Itoshi instead of showing up, since the JFU is pulling out all of the stops if it means getting Sae to stay in Japan for good.

“Tomorrow,” Sae reaffirms.

I’m a nice guy, Aiku tries to remind himself. This is what nice guys do. I’m boosting team morale. Yeah. That’s all. Captain’s duties.

Still, as he chases after Sae, who apparently doesn’t know what the word ‘stroll’ means and prefers to do everything at a brisk pace more akin to a jog, he thinks that this entire ridiculous assignment feels more like a babysitter’s duties than anything. 

“Are you serious?” your father says. In the background, the TV is playing a game between Re Al and Barcha, which is rather fitting.

“Deadly,” you say, untying the laces of your sneakers and putting them with the rest of your shoes. “It was actually him.”

“Sae Itoshi,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s back from Spain?”

“Seems like it,” you say, though now that he mentions it, you’re as confused as he is. Why is Sae Itoshi here instead of Madrid? You glance at the TV — Barcha has just scored, and the cameras are sweeping through the crowds, showing the excited fans cheering — and wonder if maybe he was fired or something. You doubt that that’s what happened; after all, he’s a consistent player, and the last time he was in a match, he even managed to outmaneuver that freaky striker who plays for Bastard München, so it would make zero sense for Re Al to let him go. Besides, even if they did, you’re sure there’s dozens of clubs that would be willing to take him, so there must be another reason for his presence in Japan.

“Huh,” your father says. “Well. Good for him.” 

“I guess so,” you say. “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him what he’s doing in town.”

Your father chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and giving you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you do that. Let me know what he says.”

You laugh, too, sitting down at the counter and eating a plate of reheated leftovers, because you know as well as your father that the idea of you ever seeing Sae Itoshi again is more than a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice thought, and anyways the chances are never zero, so for the moment, you allow yourself to imagine. 

Aiku is seriously questioning if Sae Itoshi was sent to this earth — or at least to this country — as some kind of punishment for him. He’s not really sure what’s done that would invite such cosmic retribution, but maybe it’s one of those…what did that girl call them? Karmic debts? She had said something about the sins of his past life and all, though he can’t recall the specifics.

Wait. That’s wrong. He just never learnt them in the first place, so how could he remember them in the first place? He had broken up with her before she could explain her theories to him. This prompts a wince from him, which is further fueled by the way his t-shirt sticks to his back with sweat. It’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling, and he’s contemplating complaining, even though it probably won’t do much.

“Shut up,” Sae says.

“I didn’t say anything!” Aiku protests, more than a little spooked, since he actually had been about to say something before Sae had cut him off.

“I can see you making faces at me,” Sae says. Considering Sae is walking ahead of him and to the side, Aiku’s not quite sure how he could tell anything about what sorts of faces Aiku is making, but unfortunately, he’s uncannily correct as always, so Aiku schools his expression into a smooth, neutral one that won’t beget reprimand from his companion.

“I can’t believe you insisted on going here straight after practice,” he says.

“This is the same time we went yesterday,” Sae says. He’s kind of an insufferable smart-ass, Aiku thinks to himself, though he’d never say as much to Sae’s face. After all, unlike his counterpart, he’s considerate like that, and he always has been.

“So? We didn’t have practice yesterday,” Aiku says. “You couldn’t even let me shower?”

“You take forever in the showers,” Sae says. This is rich, for Sae is notoriously obsessive with his skincare, and of the entire team, he takes far and away the longest to get ready. But, then again, Aiku supposes that idiocy is one of those illnesses which spreads further and further until all of one’s perspectives are tainted with the virus.

“I could’ve been quick,” he says. “It would’ve been better if I could’ve at least rinsed off so I didn’t look so gross. I want to impress that Y/N girl if she’s there again today.”

“You’re not her type,” Sae says dismissively. “So why bother?”

“How do you know? Are the two of you childhood buddies or something?” Aiku says. Sae glances at him, and of course he’s way too holier-than-thou to properly sneer, but the corners of his lips turn downwards to the same effect.

“Not too hard to figure out,” he says. 

“Well, hold on just a moment! I got the vibe that she was totally into me yesterday!” Aiku says. He actually did not get any such vibes from the barista; the only thing she seemed into was clocking out, but he’s Oliver Aiku. If he can’t get a girl, he can’t do anything. Besides, it’s not like Sae would be able to tell one way or another — Aiku and his teammate Sendou have a theory that Sae was created in a lab as some kind of experiment to make the world’s best midfielder, because the guy really doesn’t have any knowledge or concern for anything that’s unrelated to soccer.

True to form, Sae blinks unsurely. “Really?”

“Yeah, one hundred percent,” Aiku boasts, although then he’s narrowing his eyes, because such a question is so out of Sae’s character that for a moment, he wonders if there’s been a mistake and he’s actually taken some other team member of his along for this ridiculous errand.

Messy red hair. Teal eyes. Forehead creased with a frown. No, it’s definitely Sae Itoshi, that’s for sure. Just Sae Itoshi in a mood that he’s never seen before. If they were a little closer, he’d ask him what’s the big deal now, but as it is, the question would probably go unappreciated.

“Hm,�� Sae says. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

“Sure,” Aiku says slowly, reaching out to hold open the door of the cafe so he can enter behind Sae, since his lovely, amazing, wonderful, kindhearted teammate so generously left it to slam shut in his face. 

What a total dick. He makes a mental note to ask the JFU for a raise, because whatever they’re giving him at the moment is definitely not enough. 

“They’re back again!” your coworker says. You’re still mad at him for yesterday, so you’ve been giving him the silent treatment the entire shift. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, but his pitiful attempts at reconciliation never include an apology, so you haven’t budged yet.

He waits for you to respond, but you’re pretty sure he’s making stuff up to get you to pay attention to him, and anyways they could be in reference to anyone, so you continue to pour milk into a cup, acting like it’s an all-consuming task which you cannot possibly complete without the utmost of concentration.

“I’m being serious! Y/N, it’s Sae Itoshi and, uh, that other dude!” he says. Your hand wobbles for the briefest moment, but you conclude that he’s most likely lying, so you steady yourself and continue pouring the milk. “Fine, be that way! I’ll serve them myself!”

You can’t even say something snarky in response, because that’ll still be a win on his part, so you huff particularly loudly to no one in particular and leave it at that.

A few minutes later, he’s back, looking so contrite that if you weren’t upset with him, you’d actually be worried. Unfortunately, you very much are upset with him, so you find it on the whole to be rather hilarious and have to suppress a laugh. 

He must take your amusement as a signal to talk, because he speaks eagerly and quickly, stumbling over his words and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Y/N, Y/N, they’re insisting on seeing you, I told them you’re working right now — I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to do that, right? But I did, and now they really want to see you!” he says.

You’re still not entirely convinced, but if this is an act, then it’s a dedicated one, and you don’t think that he possesses that much dedication in all of his body, so maybe he’s actually telling the truth.

“Fine,” you say. “But if you’re lying, I swear I’m telling our manager to fire you.”

“I’m not!” he squeaks, darting back to the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to catch up to him.

When you reach the front, you’re surprised to see that it is in fact Sae Itoshi and…whoever that other guy is. Aiku? Yes, that sounds right. It’s Sae and Aiku, and one looks supremely inconvenienced — this would be Sae, of course — while his friend is running a hand through his sweaty hair, flashing you a grin.

You smile back at him, because that’s what you’re trained to do, and you don’t want your coworker to tattle to your manager that you’re not abiding by the cafe’s standards of customer service. Then you stare at them until one of them starts speaking, because that’s what your entire job is, and no matter how badly you want to start gushing to Sae Itoshi about how big of a fan you are, you have to remain professional.

“Is there anything I can do for you two?” you finally say. This prompts Aiku to nod, nudging Sae in the side, which earns him a dark glare.

“I want the number two, and he’ll take the number five,” Aiku says when Sae does not speak up. You want to tell him that nobody orders like that, but you’re not supposed to and it’s really not that big of a deal either way, so you just ring up the order.

“Sounds good. Would you like to pay with cash or credit?” you say.

“Credit,” Sae says, pulling out a card that probably has a monthly spending limit higher than what you make in a year. “And we’re splitting the bill, just so you know.”

What you want to say is Wow, Sae, you’re somehow even cooler in real-life! Who’s your favorite soccer player? What’s your favorite food? Do you like Spain better, or here? What you actually say is: “No problem. I’ll have those right out for you.”

“Thanks,” Aiku says. He’s kind of charming, in a sense; you can think of several friends you have that would probably swoon at the way his smile stretches across his face, but you don’t really see the appeal. Or, maybe you would normally, but at the moment, he’s standing next to Sae Itoshi, so it’s a little hard to focus on him at all.

“Yeah,” Sae says. “Thank you. Y/N.”

He’s probably just reading off of your name tag in an effort to seem more friendly and relatable and humble and all. It’s a classic PR move that he was probably taught as soon as he joined Re Al. You know about it, though, so it shouldn’t work on you. It won’t work on you. He’s just doing what he’s trained to, the same as you are.

It works on you. You run to the back and hide your face in your hands and squeal, because Sae fucking Itoshi just said your name. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Aiku says.

“Are we just listing curse words now?” Sae says dryly. “Bitch, cunt, hell. There’s three more for you.”

“You like the barista!” Aiku accuses. If Sae was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out just then, but he’s not, so he just chokes on his saliva. 

“No way,” he says.

“Yes, you do! How else can you explain this?” Aiku says, pitching his voice up in an imitation of Sae’s. “Yeah. Thank you. Y/N. Since when do you say thank you to people?”

“Since always? I have manners,” Sae says.

“I’ve never heard you say it,” Aiku says.

“Maybe that’s more telling about you than me,” Sae suggests. Aiku scowls at him.

“You definitely like her,” he says. “No judgment here, man. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Sae says. “Even if I did like her — mind you, I don’t — she’s clearly into you.”

“Me?” Aiku says. “I was just messing with you earlier, you know. Anyways, yeah, I think she’s hot, but, like, you’ve never liked a girl before, right? So I wouldn’t get in the way of that. This is a big step.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything. Do what you want,” Sae says. 

Aiku’s already pulling out his phone and texting Sendou: big news. Lab experiment just evolved. Feels attraction and jealousy now.

“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. Sendou texts back with about fifty mind-blown emojis, and he snickers to himself, liking the message.

“Anyways, who told you I’ve never liked anyone before?” Sae says defensively. Aiku just about drops his phone, leaning forwards in interest. Could it be? Are he and Sae actually bonding? Is Sae about to tell him about his first love — who apparently is not this barista?

“I just guessed. Was I wrong?” Aiku says. He’s already trying to come up with who Sae might’ve liked — a childhood neighbor or friend? A women’s soccer player he admired? A girl he saw once in Spain but never again? Oh, that last one is particularly romantic…he’s just about accepted it as fact when Sae glares at him.

“No,” he says. Aiku’s dreams are shattered in an instant, but he can only shake his head while chuckling, both because Sae has inadvertently admitted that he actually does like that Y/N girl, and because he was an idiot for believing that ‘Sae Itoshi’ and ‘romantic’ could ever belong together in one sentence.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What do I do?” you say. You and your coworker are back on speaking terms, mostly because you have no one else to talk to and are so desperate that you’re willing to temporarily forgive him. 

“Make their drinks?” he says. You give him a dirty look as you begin mixing up their orders. 

“Not about that. I’m such a huge fan of Sae’s, and this is the second time I’m making a drink for him. It’s kind of like fate, don’t you think? Should I try to talk to him or something?” you say.

“Do you want to?” your coworker says. It’s a slower time of day, so he has nothing to do but sit and watch you — at least, nothing immediate. There’s certainly things he could be doing, but you’re not about to chide him when you’re the reason he’s slacking off.

“Obviously! But what am I supposed to even say? I’ll sound like a creep if I just start acting like a fan-girl!” you say.

“That’s true,” your coworker says. “You kind of sound like one even now…”

“Ugh, if you’re not going to be helpful, then go organize the storeroom or something!”

“What about her makes you like her?” Aiku presses.

“Are we still on this?” Sae says, as if they’ve been talking about it for hours. “I don’t like her.”

“It’s not like you talked to her for a while…was it really just her looks?” Aiku says. “Damn. Didn’t think you were the shallow type.”

“I am not the shallow type!” Sae says.

“That sounds like something that a shallow person would say,” Aiku teases.

“Shut up,” Sae says. Aiku doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times Sae’s said that particular phrase to him. Maybe if he counted all of the fingers and all of the toes of every single person in the world, he would get kind of close to what that number might be. “I’m not shallow, I don’t like her, and she’s obviously way more interested in talking to you than me, so get off my back.”

Aiku whistles. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m telling the JFU that you were the one who sent me back to Spain,” Sae informs him bluntly. Aiku isn’t sure if that’s a joke or a legitimate threat. It’s hard to tell with Sae sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Aiku says.

“Deadly,” Sae says.

Yep, Aiku decides. He’s serious. 

“If only that Aiku dude wasn’t there,” you lament, setting the first drink in the pick-up area and calling out Aiku’s name before returning to finish Sae’s drink. “It’d be way easier to talk to Sae without someone there to judge everything I’m saying.”

“Do you think he’d even care?” your coworker says. You shrug.

“No idea. It’s intimidating to talk to guys around their friends, though. You’re a guy yourself, so you wouldn’t get it,” you say.

“Are they even friends?” your coworker says. “Doesn’t seem like they get along that well.”

In unison, the two of you turn so you can look at the duo, who are sitting at a table right within your line of sight. As your coworker said, they don’t look like they’re friends in the slightest. Aiku is sipping on his drink with a smirk, and Sae looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be sitting there with his not-friend.

“The point still stands,” you say. 

“Guess so,” your coworker says. Just then, Sae Itoshi happens to glance over, making direct eye contact with you. Your eyebrows raise, and your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught. Aiku turns to follow Sae’s line of sight as you weigh your options. Should you pretend like you weren’t doing anything? Should you wave?

You decide to just smile again before returning to the drink you were supposed to be working on. Your coworker, who saw the entire exchange, cannot stop laughing.

“It’s over for you,” he says. “He definitely thinks you’re a creepy fan-girl now. You can kiss that autograph goodbye.”

“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to remake this drink,” you say. “Because otherwise, I’d spill it on you.”

“That’s against company policy,” he says.

“By accident, of course,” you say with a malicious grin.

“That’s against company policy, too!” 

“Look, she just smiled at you. I bet she was looking at you the entire time,” Sae says coolly. “You should ask for her number. You already said you think she’s beautiful.”

“I said she’s hot. I’m not all poetic and shit like that,” Aiku says. “And I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the bro code.”

“We’re not ‘bros’, so you can put that out of your head,” Sae says.

“What if I help you get her number?” Aiku says. Sae tries very hard to maintain his nonchalant look, but Aiku can tell that his curiosity has been piqued. “Will you consider me a bro then? At the minimum, will you tell the JFU that I’ve done a great job at showing you around and making you feel welcome?”

Please please please please please I really need a fucking raise Sae I’m broke please please please — 

“Sure,” Sae says.

“Sure?” Aiku says. “Yes! Okay, this will be easy.”

Sae scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think.”

“Believe me,” Aiku says. “You’re in the presence of a master.”

Sae doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond the most disgusted look Aiku has ever seen on anyone, Sae or not. He’d say something, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it at least a little, and anyways a possible raise is way more important to him than being right, so he keeps his mouth shut, simply giving Sae a double-thumbs-up. He’s going to ace this new assignment, and then maybe he’ll actually be paid what he’s worth instead of pennies on the dime.

You’re about to call out Sae’s name when you realize that for some reason, both Aiku and Sae are standing there and waiting for you. You furrow your brow, because it’s both a menacing and a comical sight — the hulking Aiku, who looks like he’s about to go punch a criminal on television before flipping his hair and telling the ladies that there’s enough of him to go around, and the slender Sae Itoshi, who you can’t imagine doing anything but slamming a winning pass to one of his teammates, invariably leading to a soccer ball in his opponent’s net.

“Uh, hello,” you say.

“Hello,” Aiku says.

“Hi,” Sae says.

“I have your drink,” you say to Sae.

“I know,” he says, taking it from your hand. Of course — why else would they be here? They must’ve seen you finishing up the drink and rightly assumed that it was theirs.

“Right,” you say. Neither of them go to leave, and now you wonder if they just don’t understand social cues or something like that. “Did you guys want to order something else? My coworker would be happy to take you at the counter.”

“No,” Sae says.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drinks.”

“We will,” Sae says with the utmost of confidence. Aiku groans and then thumps him on the back. You have a feeling you probably don’t want to know what the significance of the gesture is, but then you realize that this is probably the only chance you’ll get to have a proper conversation with Sae Itoshi, so you shove your concerns aside.

“Wait! If it doesn’t bother you too much, can I ask you a question?” you say. It’s an incredibly awkward way of going about it, but given how awkward this entire interaction has been, you don’t think it’s a huge deal. 

“Go ahead,” Aiku says. You weren’t asking him, but you guess the permission covers them both, so you square your shoulders and face Sae Itoshi, who seems entirely confused that you’re looking at him instead of Aiku. You’re not sure why he would be, since between the two of them he’s the celebrity, but maybe there’s some weird dynamic going on that you’re unaware of.

It doesn’t matter to you, though. You only have one thing to ask. You’ll never cross paths with Sae again, will you? So it’s fine. You can act a little embarrassing, and anyways, you barely make above minimum wage, so if your manager gets too upset and fires you for ‘unprofessional conduct’ or something, it won’t be a huge loss. It’ll be worth it, even, considering this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and your coworker is busy reorganizing the storeroom like you told him to, so he’s not around to spy on you and report back to your stodgy old manager.

Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth and begin to speak. 

Aiku hadn’t dared to even dream of the possibility that the barista might already like Sae, too. Why would she? Sae had just been all weird and rude to her in the couple of times that they had spoken, so all in all she’d have to be somewhat of a masochist, or a Re Al fan (which was essentially the same thing, given the losing streak that Re Al had been on for the last month or so), to be into him. But sometimes miracles did happen and baristas were masochists, because the girl was turning to Sae with shimmering eyes and a hopeful expression and it was all going to go so well—

“What are you even doing in Japan in the first place?”

Did he hear her right? Sae is bewildered as well, but Y/N isn’t acting like she’s just asked the most ridiculous question she could’ve possibly asked. What is Sae doing in Japan? Well, he happens to be a citizen of the nation, so there’s one explanation…Aiku wants to facepalm, because now his plans have been ruined and Sae’s confidence has probably been crushed.

“Pardon?” Sae says. Aiku had told him not to act so cranky and old-man-ish when he approaches the girl, but honestly, at this point, there’s no helping him, so he doesn’t even bother with a correction.

“Why are you in Japan?” she says again, all bright and innocent and cheery. It somehow feels like she’s been faking things so far, and that this is the real her, which she’s been holding back up until this point. Aiku isn’t so sure if that’s a good thing; privately, he believes it would’ve been better if she kept holding back just a little bit longer. Long enough for her to reject Sae — who still claims he’s not into her and is just trying to ‘be friendly’, as if friendliness is something he’s well known for — and then move on with her day.

“My passport expired?” Sae says, phrasing it more like a question. “So I had to come back and get it renewed?”

His voice ticks up at the end of every sentence unsurely. It’s almost cute, like he’s a little baby chick. Aiku’s fond of chicks, so he decides he’ll step in. Just this once.

“He’s visiting from Spain to play for the Japanese U-20 team in an upcoming exhibition match,” he explains.

“Oh, wow,” she says. “But I thought you said you would rather give up on soccer or play with German college kids than ever play soccer for Japan?”

Aiku raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t aware of such sentiments, and though he’s not exactly shocked, he can’t help feeling a bit miffed. When he glances over at Sae, there’s not a trace of remorse on his face, and so he wrinkles his nose.

Forget the raise and the baby-chick-esque mannerisms alike. He’s done helping this ungrateful, no-good, lame-as-hell, girl-repelling loser for free. If Sae wants any further assistance, he’ll have to beg for it. 

“How did you know I said that?” Sae says. You clap your hand over your mouth when you realize you’ve exposed yourself.

“I, um, I was just guessing!” you say.

“Guessing?” he repeats. You swear, because that’s actually a worse explanation than the original one, and then you hang your head, because if the cat’s out of the bag, then there’s no way you can put it back in.

“It’s a quote from one of your interviews,” you mumble.

“What?” It’s Aiku, who immediately frowns when he realizes he’s butted in. Sae gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m a big fan of yours,” you say. “The last game you played in, when you stole the ball from that Bastard München striker, was amazing! To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re in the area instead of back in Madrid. It’s a little unbelievable, you see.”

“Ah,” Sae says, and for some reason he looks uncomfortable. “Well. Yeah. It was just the issues with my passport and all. I decided to play for the U-20s because I was offered a good deal, but it’s right back to Madrid for me after that.”

“That makes sense,” you say. It’s awkward again, but in a different way. You don’t know what to say. You don’t think he does either. His drink is probably cold now, and you’re surprised that Aiku’s eyes aren’t stuck in the back of his head, given how frequently he’s been rolling them. “Can I have your autograph?”

“No,” Sae says immediately. You’re a little taken aback, and to be honest, he looks kind of horrified himself, but you know better than to nag, so you only nod at him.

“No worries—” you begin before you’re cut off by a grumbling Aiku.

“He’ll give you his number instead. Here,” Aiku says, listing off a series of digits too rapidly for you to remember. “He’ll write it down, for you, right, Sae?”

And then, to your utter disbelief, Sae Itoshi is pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from who knows where, and he’s humming in agreement.

“Right,” he says, and then he’s handing you a note with his phone number written on it in neat print and his signature in flowing cursive. “You can call me later. If you want. Y/N.”

The way he speaks is stilted and low, but you don’t mind it. Tucking the piece of paper into your apron pocket, you beam at him.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll call you. I still have more things to ask you, so it’s good that you gave me this.”

“Yes,” Sae says. “Yes, you can do that if you’d like.”

Then he and Aiku are leaving the coffee shop, their drinks in hand, and you’re standing there in awe, wondering if that actually just happened or if it was nothing but a particularly vivid flight of fancy. 

If it’s the latter, then you almost hope it’s one you don’t ever escape from. 

“You’re welcome,” Aiku says as they leave the cafe. 

“I didn’t say thank you, you lukewarm oaf,” Sae says. Aiku shrugs. He’s hard to ruffle, after all. It’s the reason why he stepped in and rescued Sae from that little mistake of his. He just couldn’t bear the thought of his dear junior losing the girl of his dreams because of a slip of his tongue, even if aforementioned junior is the insufferable smart-ass type.

Well, the thought of the money he’ll make if Sae speaks of him highly to the JFU doesn’t hurt, either, but that’s less altruistic, so he prefers to stick to the first explanation.

“I bet you feel it, though,” Aiku says.

“Shut up,” Sae says. 

It’s a good thing babies are born every minute. Otherwise, given how frequently Sae says that particular phrase, Aiku really might run out of things to count on. 

You’ve typed the number on the piece of paper into your phone, and now you’re staring at it blankly, wondering if you should press the green call button. What if it was a prank? What if it wasn’t? Because then you’ll have to actually talk to Sae Itoshi, and you’re not so sure you can do that.

In a fit of inspiration, you slam your index finger against your screen and hold your phone up to your ear. It rings a couple of times, each subsequent one worsening the pit in your stomach, but then it stops ringing entirely, which can only mean one thing: Sae, if this really is his number, has answered.

“Hello?” you say.

“Hello?” he responds. “Y/N?”

“Yes!” you say. “It’s me. Y/N. Like you said.”

“Cool,” he says. “It’s Sae. Which I guess you knew, since you called me.”

“The confirmation was nice,” you say, internally sighing in relief. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. It’s mannerly but also a little sarcastic, albeit not in a mean way. You don’t mind it much. “You said you had to ask me some things?”

The two of you spend the next few minutes in a setting kind of like an interview, in that you drill him with questions and he answers them all patiently. He’s kind about it, humoring you even though he doesn’t have to, and he never threatens to hang up, which you do appreciate.

“Would you mind if I ask a question, too?” he says when you’ve taken a break to drink some water.

“Go ahead! Although I’m not as interesting as you are,” you say.

“I think you’re probably way more interesting,” he admits. “Anyways. Are you free next weekend?”

“Uh, I think I have a shift on Saturday, but to be honest, my coworker owes me, so he can cover it. Why?” you say.

“The exhibition game that I’m playing with the U-20s for. You should come watch,” he says.

“Oh! Sure, where should I get tickets? I’d have gotten them already if I knew you were playing,” you say.

“I’m allowed to invite someone,” he says. “Friends or family. So I’m inviting you.”

“Don’t you have actual friends that you can invite?” you say before gasping. “Sorry! Sorry, that was super insensitive and rude of me. Of course I’m honored to come, I’m just confused about why I’m the one you’re inviting. Me. I’ve literally made coffee for you twice, and that’s about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he says before pausing. “Um, look, Aiku told me to say this, so if it’s uncomfortable, then blame him…but I think you’re, er, beautiful?”

Your mind short-circuits. “Huh?”

“I don’t know! He’s the one who has experience, I’m just taking his advice!” Sae says, his tone souring immediately afterwards. “Trust me, it’s not like I want to. There’s many things I’d rather do than follow Oliver Aiku’s advice, but at the moment, it’s the best I can do.”

“Beautiful,” you repeat. It’s such an elegant adjective. You’ve been called pretty before, and there’s been a fair share of guys who have considered you to be hot, but beautiful…it’s nice. It’s really nice.

“Yeah,” Sae finally says. “Basically.”

“I’ll be there,” you say. There’s something like a scream bubbling in your throat, but you fight it back, knowing that it’s of the utmost importance that you maintain a relaxed demeanor.

“Great,” Sae says. “See you.”

“See you,” you say, and then you hang up before he can say anything further, because you’re already on the verge of combustion and you don’t think you can handle anything more.

Throwing your phone across the room, you give in and scream. There’s thundering footsteps, and then your father is throwing the door to your bedroom open, whipping his head around wildly.

“Is everything alright? Why are you screaming?” he says, heaving for breath, probably because he just sprinted from his spot on the couch to your bedroom in record time.

“Sae Itoshi!” you say.

“Yes?” he says, the rate of his inhales and exhales lowering as he realizes there’s no active threat to your life or property. “What about him?”

“He told me I’m beautiful and invited me to watch his game next weekend,” you say, knowing that this is going to make your father — a fellow Re Al fan — freak out.

You wait, counting down as he processes the news, unable to contain your exuberant grin, knowing exactly what’s coming. Three, two, one—

“What?”

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday 🙊. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because I'm rewatching Wild Life

Scar: Hey Grian, check out this funny .GIF I found! Grian: It’s pronounced “jif”. Scar: Huh? Grian: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Scar: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Grian: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Scar: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Grian: It’s exactly the same! Scar: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Grian: Gentrification. Scar: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Grian: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Scar: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Scar: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Grian: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Scar: Huh. Didn’t know that. Scar: You’re still wrong, though. Grian: You just hate me because I’m right. Scar: I just hate you in general. Grian: You mean in “geh-neral”? Scar: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Grian: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Scar: loads shotgun I got this. Grian: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

Scar: Okay, Grian, you were right! I was… Less right!

Scar: Grian, wake up! Grian, half asleep: Five more minutes… Scar: You’ve been in a coma for two years! Grian: … Grian: Okay, two more minutes…

Grian: Shut it Scar, I only shook your hand because I had to. We will NEVER be friends. Scar: Lets survive this together! Grian: I HOPE YOU DIE.

Scar: What’s your biggest fear? Grian: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Scar, under their breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Grian: chokes on something Scar: Jeez, Grian, don't die on us. Grian: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

Grian and Scar are texting Grian: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Scar: What did they change my name to? Grian: Chosen One. Scar: Don’t change it back. Grian: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Scar: I’m the chosen one.

Scar: Are you mad? Grian: No. Scar: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Grian: Alright, listen up you little shits. Grian: Not you Scar. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Scar: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Grian: …I was hungry.

Grian: Don’t you have any dignity, Scar? Scar: Uh, no.

Grian: Do you want this handful of moss? Scar: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Grian: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

Scar: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Grian: I’ve got plenty of common sense! Grian: I just choose to ignore it.

Scar: I’m serious! They’re watching me! They’ve even got an agent following me! Don’t you believe me? Grian: Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you… It’s that I don’t believe you and I don’t care.

Scar: Grian keeps forgetting which WiFi network they're supposed to use. Scar: So I renamed ours to "Grian, use this one" to help them out a little.

Grian: Please, Scar, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Grian: I’m sorry Scar. Grian: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Scar: It has to be done. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: Places +4 Uno.

Scar: Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad single life? Grian: It actually does.

Grian: Amazing! Scar, your just like Sherlock Homeless! Scar: IT'S HOLMES!

Grian: I taught the dog a new trick. throws ball Fetch! Dog: just stands there Scar: He didn’t do it. Grian: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

Grian: What the hell is wrong with you? Scar: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Grian: Do you have a superpower? Scar: Yep! It’s hindsight. Grian: …that’s not going to help us. Scar: Yes, I see that now.

Grian: You’re giving me a sticker? Scar: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Grian: I’m not a preschooler. Scar: Fine, I’ll take it back- Grian: I earned this, back off!

[starlazergazer]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Combining two very similar requests! The overall summary is that the reader finds out she’s pregnant and out of fear leaves the republic (quickly becoming the empire) without Anakin knowing. Anakin tracks down the reader years later and leaves everything behind to live happily ever after with the reader and their child.

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Hey guys its been a while! She’s a little short but she’s got some good angst and some cute moments so I really hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t proud to admit that you didn’t see it coming.

The warning signs were all there, and in hindsight you can’t believe you had missed them. But no, not missed, for every time there was a new announcement about the condensation of power you felt your stomach drop, felt the voice in the back of your head whisper that this wasn’t right, you never missed a single warning sign, it was even worse than that. You ignored them.

Because you knew chancellor Palpatine, he was a nice old man, offering his wisdom to younger senators such as yourself, he wanted what was best for the republic same as you.

You thought you knew Anakin too.

But you did know Anakin, you wanted to argue, he was passionate, emotional, funny, someone looking only to do right in the world by those he loved. You just thought you were one of those people.

And maybe you were, maybe this were some big misunderstanding, maybe there were forces at play here you couldn’t see that changed things. Maybe you could be the one to make those changes.

In another life you’d stick around and see.

Not this time. A hand ghosting across your stomach, staring down at an empty suitcase. Circumstances have changed and you couldn’t afford to chance it.

But even as you stood in you room amongst the ruins of the republic you had fought so hard to build, all that echoed in your mind was Anakin’s last words “I’ll find you later I promise” spoken in that tone of voice that had you smiling no matter what. Even as he pulled away, even as he interrupted the most important surprise of your life you couldn’t help but smile back at him, watching his own lips quirk up in response.

How could so much have changed in such little time.

A knock at the front door knocked you out of your stupor, a spring in your step as you rushed out of the bedroom just in time to see Anakin walking into the living room.

And you were amazed at how he looked exactly the same, how your whole world came crashing down and Anakin was still Anakin, looking at you with so much love and worry in his eyes it made your chest ache.

He was across the room before you could even comprehend his movement, his arms wrapping tightly around you not even noticing that you never raised yours to do the same.

It would have been far too easy to melt into the hug, to reach up and cover his hands with your own as he stepped back and cupped each cheek, to ignore the new yellow tint in his eyes as he scanned your body frantically asking if you were hurt.

But your choice here wasn’t just your own anymore, and if there was one thing you were certain of, it was that whoever this child came to be deserved more than what the empire offered.

It took you a second to find your voice, a second to push his hands off your cheeks, to take a step back from him, offering a small I’m okay that he clearly didn’t believe before you fully collected yourself “it’s just a lot to take in ya know?”

And there was a small sigh of relief that racked through him, before he took up your hand, giving it an experimental squeeze, as if afraid you were going to reject him “I know but really all that’s changed is the title, the senate still exists, you still have the same job, emperor Palpatine is just doing his best to protect people”

And you wondered if he really believed that, if he thought that the senate mattered in any way but a  symbolic one at this point, that Palpatine was still prepared to just give back his power when he deemed it was best. Anakin was many things but never naive.

A bitter part of you noted how easily the change to Palpatine’s title came to him.

“Of course” you tried to assure him with your best smile, an awkward hand coming up and patting his “I’m still a senator”

He seemed to relax slightly at this, his posture slouching ever so slightly as his smile grew easier, crinkling the edges of his eyes just a little more now than it did before.

“What about you are you okay?” The question held more weight than he could possibly realize.

“I’m good” he sighed out, leading you softly over to the couch “the jedi order, the republic, all of it wasn’t working, hadn’t for some time and emperor Palpatine changed that. I really think it’s for the better”

And you weren’t sure whether it would’ve been worse if he had told you he was being forced into the whole thing. If you would rather he had somehow been blackmailed into his new role or if he truly believed in the empire, choosing instead to dismantle all that you devoted your life to of his own volition.

“Good” you nearly choked on the word as it came out, your forced smile starting to ache in your cheeks as you fought to keep it on “I’m glad”

He smiled warmly back at you and in that moment he looked too much like the Anakin you knew, the man you’d shared many stolen moments with in closets and empty rooms, the man you wanted more than anything in that moment to just come home to.

“Anyway there was something important you wanted to tell me” he prompted softly, turning softly into you, encapsulating both your hands in his with a soft squeeze.

And your mind jumped immediately to the test hidden in your luggage in the bedroom at that very moment, to the moment you had pulled him into the nearest closet just before everything went down, to the excitement you had felt in that moment and carried with you even as he told you he had to go, that you could tell him later. Only for later to never come.

Your mouth dropped open slightly, an amalgamation of words tumbling around inside you with no real idea which would spring forth first. A part of you wondered what would happen if you told him. Would he give it all up? Run away with you? Become the fantastic father you knew he would be away from the sway of the empire, from Palpatine?

But you knew better.

“Oh it was nothing” you shook him off “can hardly remember it now”

He studied you carefully, mistrust evident in every feature on his face. Instead of objecting, however, he just brought a hand up to softly cup your cheek.

And oh how you hated how quickly your body reacted, leaning into the touch softly, your eyes fluttering closed before you could stop them.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His words were soft but you could hear the earnestness in them, the slight beg for you to let him in.

“Yeah I know” you opted for a half truth, never that good at denying him anything, knowing that in any other circumstance you wouldn’t have even hesitated, hell before all of this you were excited to tell him.

But circumstances change, people changed, you just wished that he had picked a path you could follow down.

“I’m just feeling a little tired, I think I’m going to lay down for a nap” you shrugged off his hand softly, pulling yourself back from picking it up with your own, forcing yourself to drop his other one, to push yourself up off the couch, to take a step back, to put that first bit of distance between the two of you.

And you could see him recoil slightly at the sudden declaration, at your sudden dismissal of him, a brief moments shock spent frozen on the couch before he pushed himself up with a dejected nod, a soft hesitant voice you hardly recognized as Anakin’s coming from him “yeah of course, just let me know if you need anything okay?”

For a moment your mind was captured by thoughts of what could have been, Anakin taking care of you through bouts of morning sickness, bringing you packages of whatever pregnancy cravings you had in the middle of the night, rubbing your swollen feet while you talked lazily on the couch. It felt unfair that a person could mourn something that would never come to pass.

“I will, thanks Ani”

And despite the tension in the air you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up at the familiar nickname. He gave a small nod before backing away and heading for the door, his hand coming up to the panel and hovering over its surface, a brief moment spent frozen before he spoke, calling out your name and spinning around to find you.

But he didn’t need to look far, you hadn’t moved from your spot as you watched him go.

“I love you”

And it would’ve been so much easier if he hadn’t have said that, if some part of you could’ve been able to push his feelings over all of this to the back of your mind, if you had been left to believe that on some level he would be okay if you left him.

“I love you too Ani” and even worse you meant it

-

“So this is why you ran?” the familiar voice broke you from your thoughts as you stared forward at the busy playground but didn’t necessarily surprise you, it was after all a voice you had been waiting to here again after too many years.

A million reactions to that voice ran through your head all at once, each one completely contradicting the one before. Run away, embrace him, hide your daughter, introduce him to her. So instead you stayed frozen in place, your gaze locked on the colorful jungle gym before you.

“I decided she deserved a better life than what the empire could give her” Still you refused to look at him, refused to put a face to that comforting voice you had always been inexplicably drawn to. Instead you focused on keeping your head held high, to stave off any guilt that threatened to leach into your tone. You couldn’t afford to look weak over this decision not now.

“she?” but god that little tremble in his voice nearly broke you, every doubt you had over the years amplified by a minor change in pitch. It was precisely why you had left in the first place, and here he was again threatening to pull you back in all over again.

You cleared your throat softly, gesturing across the playground vaguely with your head “bright pink coat, attempting to climb the monkey bars”

A shaky exhale sounded from beside you, a slight shift as he scooted closer but you weren’t sure whether you liked the feeling or hated it. “she looks just like you” The smile you could hear in his voice, however, that you relished.

“She’s got your eyes” you responded softly, laughing quietly as you watched her run and jump off the platform in an attempt to get high enough to reach the first rung “and your reckless relationship with danger”

You felt Anakin go tense beside you the minute her shoes left the ground, watching as she sailed missing the bar by mere inches and tumbling to the ground. Your hand came out to his elbow the minute you felt his weight shift as he got ready to go help her, freezing the two of you in place as you watched her pick herself up and dust herself off before abandoning her quest for the monkey bars and taking off for the swings.

“Tough kid” Anakin laughed almost in disbelief, watching her shake off the fall as if it were nothing.

“taught her early on if she was going to make stupid decisions she better be prepared to deal with the consequences”

A tense silence fell over the two of you at your words. It only occurring to you then that you still had your hand on his arm, pulling it back quickly, acting as if it were nothing, as if your fingers weren’t aching to reach out to him again.

“You know I was high up in the empire” he broke the silence with heavy words, inlaid with more depth than he probably meant “I could’ve given her a good life”

You shook your head at his words, eyes never leaving your daughters form as she started to swing, blissfully unaware of who had just shown up “there was a time I would’ve believed that” you responded honestly with a sigh “but after everything the empire has done, after seeing what is has become, I know I made the right call”

“the schools I could get her into, the house I could provide-“ Anakin pushed on only making your lip tremble slightly, your eyes closing as you let out a shaky beath, cutting him off.

“stop Ani” and the two of your froze at the nickname, the way it slipped out too easily from your lips, how much you liked the sound of it “the empire destroyed everything I fought for in an instant. It overthrew a democracy I devoted my life to in favor of a dictatorship, it killed millions of people I gave my life to serve as their representative, it took everything from me including you” and finally you turned to face him, not at all surprised to see familiar blue eyes already staring down at you, each feature swimming through an ocean of emotions he wasn’t quite sure which to land on. “I wasn’t going to let them take her too”

You each took a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between one another’s, you taking a moment to take in a face that somehow looked the exact same as it had years ago and yet changed so much.

Still he shook his head softly, eyes casting back out to the playground before him “I would’ve come with you”

And you’d spent too much time pondering that same question to just let it slide “you wouldn’t have”

Anakin’s head snapped back to yours, eyebrows drawing in in confusion and hurt “You think I would’ve chosen anything else over you? Over her?” he gestured over to the swings, your daughter kicking her feet to climb higher and higher into the air.

“I think you would’ve tried to talk me into staying, and I was afraid I was too weak to say no” you answered honestly, watching as he shook his head again clearly not liking that as an answer “and I think even if you had wanted to come with me they wouldn’t have let you” that gave him pause, his brows furrowing slightly at your words, silently prompting you to continue “you were the emperors right hand man, the one set to inherit everything. They weren’t going to let you go that easily”

“I was in too deep, so you just gave up on us” he paused for a second, a deep breath running through him before he continued “gave up on me”

Immediately you were scooching yourself closer to him, thigh coming to rest right along his as you took one hand in yours, using it to pull his attention back to you. “If circumstances were different” you began slowly, blindly searching for the right words for the feeling you had never been able to let go of “I would’ve stayed with you. No question, no hesitation, I would always choose you.” And you gave those words a second to sink in, hoping more than anything that he would believe you on that much, “But now I have her to think about” you nodded vaguely in your daughters direction, Anakin’s gaze briefly following yours before snapping quickly back to your figure, his hand squeezing yours just a little tighter “At that time that meant getting her out of there by whatever means necessary”

“And now?” he asked quietly, eyes practically begging you for an answer

“Darth vader has no place in our family” you answered solemnly, giving the statement a moments pause to cement it “however, Anakin Skywalker always has a place at our table”

You could see his face start to break out into a smile but your attention was pulled away too quickly by a familiar voice shouting “mommy” before a weight was pushed onto your lap as your daughter buried her head into your chest, not bothering to slow down from her dead sprint before she jumped onto your lap.

You gave a dramatic “oof” that had her giggling as she brought her gaze up to meet yours, a wide smile on her face as she started to talk “did you see how high I went on the swings mommy? Did you see me go?”

Her excited fast talking pulled an easy smile to your cheeks as your voice got higher slightly, nodding eagerly along with her “I did see you went sooooo high you’re such a brave little girl”

“I’m not that little” she protested with a giggle and a dramatic roll of her eyes, her gaze cutting briefly to Anakin’s form next to you, the question of who this man was clearly bubbling beneath the surface, nothing but her own shyness keeping it at bay.

“Come here” you said softly, twirling her around so she sat in your lap with her back against your chest, her head tucked perfectly just beneath your chin “do you remember all those stories I tell you about the super cool Jedi?”

“Obi-wan?” she asked innocently and you couldn’t help but laugh, if nothing else the girl’s comedic timing was on point.

“no the other one, the one that worked to bring balance to the force?”

“Daddy?” she asked eagerly and you heard a breath escape from Anakin, a quick glance up to him showed that his eyes were glued to the little girl in your lap.

“That’s right” you assured her with a smile growing more strained by the second, a tightness in your chest growing as you knew what her next question would be.

She looked over at Anakin curiously, not quite shying away from him but keeping her distance from her spot in your lap, choosing instead to carefully study the man before her. “Is he going to come live with us now?”

Your eyes jumped up to Anakin’s as he tore his gaze from the girl in your lap, an expression on his face that seemed to ask you the same question.

“I don’t know sweetheart” you began hesitantly “I think Daddy’s got some things he needs to figure out before-“

“Yes” Anakin cut you off before you could finish, making your eyebrows shoot up at him, your eyes silently asking him if he was sure, if he knew what he was agreeing to right now, if he was really prepared for a step like that.

Instead his gaze broke back down to his daughter, a small smile growing on his face as he stooped slightly as he spoke “that is if it’s okay with you?”

“mmmm” you daughter hummed loudly, clearly missing the desperation in Anakin’s expression as she held him on the edge of his seat, pondering the question carefully before asking “are you a good swing pusher?”

A strained, relieved chuckle from his lips at her question, an eager answer following it quickly “I’m an excellent swing pusher”

“Then as long as it’s okay with mommy” she declared simply, Anakin’s eyes breaking once again up to meet yours, a single question held within them.

And looking into his eyes you thought of the person he had become after the republic fell, the person you felt you had to flee in order to raise your daughter in a safe environment, the person that became the very thing you’d once worked to destroy.

But looking at him all you saw was your Anakin. The man who had only ever tried to do what he thought was best, the man who would lay down his life with no hesitation to protect you, the man who ever since meeting her had been hanging off your daughters every word. Five minutes in and she already had him wrapped around her little finger.

“What about your job” you asked him, your expression holding more meaning than your actual words “back on Coruscant”

“I’m done with that” he answered immediately, inching closer to the two of you “no one knows I’m here”

“Are you sure” you asked him slowly, a million tiny expansions on that question flowing silently through you. Are you sure that you’re done with the empire, that no one will come looking for you, that this is really what you want?

“I’ve never been more sure of anything” he answered softly, eyes never breaking contact with yours as he said it.

And you let that answer hang In the air for a moment, searching his expression for any sign of doubt but ultimately finding none. You opened your mouth to speak when you daughter decided to break the silence for you, grabbing Anakin by the hand she hopped off your lap and started to drag him towards the playground. “Good you can come push me on the swings now”

And you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him follow her eagerly, a grin on his face you hadn’t realized how bad you had missed seeing as he helped her into the seat, starting to push her almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid she would fall off.

So true to form your daughter demanded higher, eliciting a hearty laugh from the former jedi you could hear from across the playground, bringing a soft smile to your face as you watched the two of them, whispering softly to yourself “welcome home Ani”

[chris-hallelujah]

Begin Again | m.s.

Summary: A song fic to Begin Again by Taylor Swift.

Contains: mentions of past toxic relationships

Word Count: 537

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is a quick little blurb while I deal with some writer's block. All ideas are my own and I do not give permission for anyone to share this on another platform.

Link to my master list

Enjoy,

-Billie <3

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

I nervously arrived at the diner that Matt and I agreed to meet at for our first date. We had began chatting when he slid into my Instagram DMs a few weeks ago. Which transitioned into texting and back and forth SnapChats before we ended up here. My eyes scanned the tables until I locked eyes with him. He was early. As the distance closed between us he stood up to greet me. "Hey, glad you could make it!" he spoke enthusiastically as he pulled out my chair to let me sit down. A smile crept onto my lips as I recognized his chivalry. No one had ever done that for me before other than my own father. Matt radiated a sense of calmness. He was so at ease and content.

Minutes turned to hours as we shared stories and bits of information about ourselves. "...And then, boom my phone falls right into the storm drain!" I spoke giggling as I finished my story. The story was a bit embarrassing, but funny in hindsight. Matt threw his head back in laughter.

"Into the drain? Like in the middle of the street?" He spoke through laughs as I nodded. I could not believe how much of a good time we were having. My mind flashed back to that moment seeing the annoyed look on my ex-boyfriend's face as my phone fell. He was not amused at all at the situation even though I was determined to laugh it off. He never seemed to see the bright side or joy of things. I felt my body relaxing as puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

"Well, we should probably get outta here, huh?" he said looking behind me. I turned my head over my shoulder to see the workers trying to clean up to get the diner closed. I looked at the time on my phone. 8:45 p.m. I nodded grabbing my things and standing up. I followed Matt out of the diner and we began walking down the street. I looped my arm through his as the cool fall air sent a shiver down my spine. "Ya know, fall is my favorite season," Matt smiled, his eyes twinkling with excitement seeing all of the Halloween decorations. I smiled looking up at him, his happiness radiated through the downtown streets.

"I love the winter holidays," I added. He nodded, looking at me as I spoke. "My mom and I always put the tree up a week before and make Christmas cookies," I spoke, looking into his eyes. He listened intently, genuinely interested in what I was saying. No one had ever listened to me so deeply before. No guy had ever made me feel like what I was saying was important.

"That seems sweet," he smiled, "my brothers and I like watching Christmas movies the night before. We've done that since we were kids." My mind imagined seeing Matt, Nick, and Chris as kids watching Christmas movies and a wide grin spread across my face. This whole night had gone so well and finally, I began to wonder if maybe love wasn't horrible after all. I watched it begin again.

[greatprotector-if]

Hi everyone! It's been a while and I hope you're all doing well :] I have realized that 99.99% of you are not on my personal Tumblr so I should probably update here too. Hey! Hi!

Going to start off by saying that no, The Great Protector has not been abandoned! I am still working on it!

Details under cut. A little ranty, sorry HAHA

So yes, I am still working on TGP! But no, I have nothing to show for all the months I've been gone.

Essentially the plot got way out of hand and in the end it was so messy I felt it would be faster to just start from scratch instead of trying to prune all the unnecessary parts. It was that bad.

I'm currently making my way through the new outline slowly but surely — but I know this isn't the update you all wanted. I literally have less than I had before... haha... and after all these years I completely understand that this is disappointing for all of you, and I'm really sorry about that.

I think I'll always regret putting up that initial intro post for this game as early into production as I did. While the community has been wonderful and I appreciate so much all the support I've received, it's also sort of paralyzing to have so many eyes on you, expecting great things you aren't sure you have the means of providing!

I've sort of just been too scared to work on it because I know that nothing I make could ever satisfy all of you, and then the impostor syndrome in me is telling me that means nothing I do will ever be good enough. Yeah. Brain. Funny guy, the brain.

If I had a time machine I'd go back and force past me not to post jack shit on the internet until he had at least a full chapter written and coded, but alas! Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

But taking this time away from the blog and restarting the story from scratch has made the pressure feel a lot less intense. I really, really do appreciate everyone who's shown interest in my silly little project so far, but I will likely continue on with my break away from this blog until I have an actual demo. It makes me feel guilty to post here with my hands empty haha

I have no idea how long it will be until said actual demo is ready, but I sure hope it won't take another multiple years!

Again, I'm sorry about how this has gone. The next time I post something on this blog, it'll probably be less depressing I promise 🙌

With love,

Cassian

[sobbingsapphic102]

Here's a request for you! Headmistress Miranda getting protective over MC after MC gets flirted with by someone else

A/N: I wrote a whole different story for this ask but forgot to save it :( I changed the whole thing and just wrote it all in one sitting. Sorry about the wait. Hope you enjoy!

Jelly?

Standing in front of the grand university, both hands occupied with cups of coffee (one for your boss who had a vile temper without coffee, and one for you) and unable to open the main door, you patiently waited for someone to come to your rescue.

In hindsight, you should’ve put your coffee on the cement ground, opened the door, and then picked it back up, but the lack of sleep from assignments and studying had your brain muddled.

You called out to a blonde, pretty girl about to walk past you.

“Hey! Could you open the door for me?” You said as loudly as you could without sounding rude.

She walks up to you and opens the door. She studied your face for a few seconds longer than normal, even squinted a bit. Before you can say “thank you” she asks you something that takes you off guard.

“Do I know you?” She asked, continued to scrutinize your face. She had light eyelashes, silky hair that reached down to her waist, and a twinkle in her eye.

“I… don’t think so?” You spoke falteringly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around.

“You sure? You look pretty damn familiar... Maybe from my dreams?” She had a flustered look on her face after saying the most cliché line you’ve ever heard. Second-hand embarrassment hit you like a truck. A 20-ton truck.

You laughed awkwardly and didn’t speak.

Unbeknownst to you, Miranda was not in her office waiting for you but hunting you down outside. She caught sight of this unusual encounter and bristled with anger. Without hesitation, she hurried to your side and gave the girl a withering glare.

She turned and regarded you with a beatific expression. Gently taking the coffee from your hands, making sure to graze her fingers against yours, she casts a sardonic smile at the girl. Tightly gripping your wrist, she abruptly ends the conversation.

“Unfortunately for you, she is quite busy seeing that she is my assistant and has a considerable amount of filing to do.”

Internally you thanked God for not having to reject this oblivious girl.

Acting like she had no time to spare, she whisked you off to her office and you shot an apologetic smile at the girl, who still had the door handle in her clutches.

“What was that for—“ You ask, nearly tripping because of how fast Miranda was striding away, “—slow down!” You concentrated much harder than necessary to keep up with her power-walking. You both are the same height, how the hell is she walking so fast?

“You are aware she was flirting with you, correct?”

“Yeah but—“ You huff and puff before replying, “—That doesn’t mean you can or should be rude like that. You made a show of it, holding me down like that.”

She slows down and opens the door to her office. “I did not hold you down.” She says, before pulling you into her office.

It dawns on you. She was so, very very very jealous. You would never let her live it down. You glanced at her and took in the brooding look on her face.

“Be honest, were you jelly?”

She raised a brow at your funny slang, “No, I was not jelly as you put it… I was simply liberating you from that waste of space.” She moved toward her desk swiftly and silently.

You gasped at how easily “waste of space” left her mouth. Later, you would think about how much you abhorred this distasteful behaviour of hers, of how she was cruel to everyone around her. You ached for her to be more considerate of others.

“Miranda! That’s mean!”

“I apologize, my dove, but it’s the truth. Nobody on Earth could ever amount to anything worth being loved by you.” She pauses, “Except…perhaps... me? She blinked.

You let out a little laugh at that, not knowing how much she has done to keep you as hers. “You’re sweet.” You pulled her by the waist into your embrace, and admired her in the weak orange-yellow lighting of the lamps you bought to help you do paperwork without causing Miranda great distress.

“I love you forever,” You say, “even if that sounds corny as hell.”

That was one of the first times you had ever seen her smile so widely. You had absolutely no clue how much those four words meant to her.

[mijetboi]

i did an art for once whaaat

in the past few months, i've really gotten into hermitcraft and life series, and scar in particular has become one of my favorites. very inspired builder, extremely genuine, and quite funny.

but i also couldn't help but notice his vast collection of skins that he's worn throughout the many series he's been in, and my artist brain couldn't help but get inspired.

and i know i'm not the only one, because i've also seen many other stellar scar designs from the wonderful artists who've made animatics. so, i've decided to throw my hat in the ring, stretch the ol' character design muscles, and draw my take on mr.goodtimeswithscar.

okay now i'm gonna do a deep dive on my thought processes as i worked on this design, so read on if you like, but from here on out it's silly autistic ramblings :)

during my first attempt in drawing scar, i was extremely torn between the many designs. originally, i was just gonna draw swaggon scar from season 8, since that was the first season of hermitcraft i watched (and that outfit is the first outfit i think of when i think of scar), but i also wanted to draw a season 9 scar since that's my favorite season, but then i'd also started watching season 7 recently... ughhh it was a whole ordeal.

instead, i decided to draw a sort of baseline "greatest hits" scar if you will. in hindsight, i did kinda lean towards swaggon scar quite a bit when it came to his outfit, but i tried not to favor it too much.

my main goal with this design was to give off "rugged adventurer" vibes, since scar's building style is very natural-based and terraforming is a big component of his hermitcraft builds, but also because that's often the vibe his character gives off when he plays in the life series.

so, to convey that, first and foremost, i decided to try and stick to very earthy colors and tones most of the time, which actually worked out really well for me, as greens and browns are pretty commonplace in many of scar's skins.

at the same time, though, i also wanted to give off those swindling snake oil salesmen qualities that he often plays with in series, and his swaggon character is the epitome of that personality, which is why this design takes heavy cues from that design.

of course, another iconic scar scam was the magic crystals in season 7, and i knew i wanted to reference that too, but i didn't exactly know how until much later in the design.

from the beginning, i knew i was gonna have scar with a cane, because i LOVE when artists design scar with a cane, since on one hand, it very much fits in with the swindling (HUGE grunkle stan vibes), but on the other, i think it's a very respectful and creative way to represent his disability.

at first, i was just gonna give him a kinda generic looking cane, but i randomly came across that cane from jurassic park, and immediately, i knew what i wanted to do; i wanted to give scar a magic staff and cane hybrid inspired by his season 7 wizard skin, and i think it came out really well.

it was a bit harder to represent season 9, but i knew i wanted to represent it somehow. although i'm a little sad i wasn't able to incorporate more season 9 stuff, i think the pins/buttons on his hat was a pretty smooth way to do it. the quiver on his back is also most definitely a hOtGuY reference, but i'm also just generally impressed by his bow skills, so i wanted to give him a quiver.

also yeah i included my hand references alongside the design references because... yeah stereotypical artist thing here but DRAWING HANDS SUCKS!! and, y'know, i just wanted to be honest lol

i know there's some stuff i've probably missed out on with this design; like, i haven't gotten to scar's seasons 4, 5, 6, or 10 yet, for instance, so perhaps there are some references there that i could have included, but... hey, what can ya do.

well, that's pretty much it! this design took me a few days to figure out since i hadn't done much character design stuff in a good bit, but i'm proud of how it turned out!

if inspiration strikes, i definitely want to draw more designs of the hermits/lifers. grian, mumbo, joel, jimmy, etho, gem, impulse, and skizz are definitely on my list!

[elainsgirl]

Eluciens seem to have made it their biggest argument that Elain hasn't returned Lucien's gifts. I don't think Sarah has ever written what Elain has done with Lucien's gifts, but we know how Elain reacted to them.

In ACOFAS:

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.

In ACOSF:

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

It's just sadness and no trace of her newfound boldness. Shrinking into herself. This isn't tension or angst. It's sad.

Compare that to "put it on me?" and getting wet from Azriel touching her neck.

Both Lucien and Azriel got Elain jewelry last Solstice. And her reactions to them is complete opposites. One is romantic, the other is just sad.

Hey anon 🫶

Elain is too polite to return Lucien’s gifts, she doesn’t even tell him to go away - simply stays quiet hoping he gets the hint and leaves himself - so idk why elucien stans think she would return his presents. And before anyone says ���but she returned Azriel’s!” She was deeply hurt & embarrassed. It was an emotionally charged action where as with Lucien you get nothing. No emotion. Nothing said. Which is worse, because it shows how Elain truly does not gaf about Lucien and isn’t impressed or even affected by anything he does for her.

The fact Elain was smiling when receiving the box but it faded as she opened it because they were literally just gloves. In hindsight, sure it was a thoughtful but very surface level gift. Like getting your artist friend a set of simple paints. Its a good gift but generic. Plain. Shows how little thought went behind it. And here, Sjm tells us why Elain may not have liked the gift, because she liked getting her hands dirty. And I feel as though there’s two ways to interpretate that sentence: 1) Elain likes feeling the dirt as proof of her labour since it makes her feel capable of doing something. It shows her work, effort etc - it could be her way of making up for how she barely/couldn’t do anything during the archerons poverty era. 2) for someone ladylike, who would have been taught by her mother to always keep her hands clean and mess-free, gardening without gloves - feeling the dirt, could be Elains way of rebelling against her mother and her upbringing.

Anyways, this is why Eluciens have to make Luciens gift deep by saying he got her gloves cause he knows Elain “self h4rms.” And where does this come from? Feysands bonus where Elain got hurt by a thorn. What they missed is the fact, Elain wore gloves. They simply tore. She wasn’t gardening without gloves disproving that take.

Both Lucien and Azriel getting Elain jewellery in acosf was done on purpose by Sjm. To show readers how Elain feels about Lucien and Azriel. As you pointed out, Elain loses her boldness and simply sets the pearls aside. She doesn’t admire them. Yet with Azriel’s necklace? “It’s beautiful” “put it on me?”. Elain wants Azriel. She doesn’t want Lucien and that was Mass’s final way of making it clear to her readers.

The funny thing is, Sjm could have written a scene where Cassian catches Elain staring at the pearls, admiring them then blushing once realising Cassian was observing her. She could have had Feyre see Elain putting the gloves on or taking them out of the box - again, admiring them. Yet you get nothing. We do not know what Elain does with the gifts but we know how she feels and thats what matters the most. So whilst Eluciens can go on and twist it to be romantic that Elain hasn’t returned Luciens gifts because she secretly likes them or hates how well he knows her - those are HCs, completely made up and are not supported by canon material from the books. Its made up bs to make elucien seem deep & interesting when in reality they’re not any of those things.

[youngbounty]

Anniversary Trip

Jon was panicking. Today would be the anniversary since they've started dating and he didn't know what to do or what gift to give. He was googling different ideas he could do today. It was a good thing he has the ability to fly and move at great speeds. If only his phone and computer could match his speed.

“Hey Jonno, what are... you...” Connor asked, flying inside Jon's apartment living room through his window at quick speed, before taking notice of Jon. Jon wasn't someone that cared about how he looked or dressed, but this was unusual even for him. “I'm... probably going to regret asking this but... what the hell are you wearing?”

Jon was currently wearing a strange black trench coat with a matching fur cap. The moment he heard his cousin ask him about his wear, his entire face turned red. He replied, “nothing! … Do you have any advise on how to impress your Russian girlfriend on your anniversary?”

“Avoid dressing up like that would be my first advise,” Connor grinned humorously as Jon groaned, covering his face.

“You're not helping,” Jon muffled in his hands.

“Well, I've never had a Russian girlfriend, but yours is likely going to have a sense of style that matches Cassie than whatever it is you're trying to do,” Connor replied, taking off the furcap before Jon snatched it from his hand almost offensively. He put his hands up. “I'm just saying, I really doubt yours is into... Russian things. She doesn't come off as that kind of gal.”

Jon sighed, plopping himself on the couch, “you're probably right.

“Hey, when in doubt, take her flying somewhere like around the farm, Hawaii or...”

“Great idea! I can take them flying to Moscow! Thanks, Kon!” Jon grinned joyfully before flying off.

“You're wel- wait, I said to avoid...” Connor called back before sighing and shaking his head.

Damian was in his bedroom with two different bouquets on his side table while on his laptop searching for places to go in Moscow. Jon must've been freaking out about their anniversary to have it be based in Russia. At least of all the cities in Russia, Moscow was a good choice in hindsight and they won't need to take a train or subway.

“Literally, did Supernut choose Russia because that's where I'm from?” Nika asked, climbing inside Damian's bedroom from the window.

“Tt that's why I told you to not visit him until he texts us. At least you never had to come to his house with a broom with my picture on the front dressed like Robin,” Damian said deadpan as Nika burst out laughing.

“Hearing that makes me wish I was a fly on the wall for that.”

“Of course you'd find that funny,” Damian muttered, still on the computer looking up different places to go to. “At least he chose a city that's interesting.”

“And, far from where my parents live. I've never been to Moscow.”

“The Red Square is considered a popular tourist destination with different castles with rich history.”

“I never knew you were so interested in our history,” Nika smiled flirtatiously, sitting next to Damian on his bed.

“Aren't you?” Damian asked Nika, raising an eyebrows.

“Maybe a little. Though, I'm more interested in other country's history,” Nika confessed, which made Damian smile a little before the both of them felt a gust of wind.

“Welcome J,” Damian greeted without looking at his boyfriend.

“Hey D, Nika, I... are those for me?” Jon asked, grabbing his bouquet next to the black and purple bouquet of roses. His was red and blue. “Dami, you're so sweet.”

Nika took the furcap off Jon, smirking, “I have so many questions.”

“Aren't those popular in your country?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, but I never liked them... I suppose they are warm and comfy,” Nika said before Jon snatched it back and placed it back on his head.

“We can take a look around Red Square and explore the different castles. There are also a number of places we can go in and eat,” Damian said, showing the number of restaurants at the Red Square.

“Oh Dami, I love you for this!” Jon grinned excitedly, Nika also joining in.

“If you're gonna get us some fine dining, see if there's any with caviar,” Nika suggested.

“You eat caviar? I thought you were vegan,” Damian asked with raised eyebrows.

“I am. I just hear fancy rich people eat caviar. What is caviar?”

“Fish eggs.”

“Oh,” Nika replied, eyes turning to saucers. “Escargot?”

“Snails.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jon asked, gagging at the idea.

“Is there any richy-rich foods that are vegan friendly?” Nika asked.

“Or eatable?” Jon added.

“Truffles for Nika. Wagyu beef for Jon. Unfortunately, for you Jon, Wagyu beef is from Japan,” Damian stated, putting away his computer before stuffing it in his backpack. He got out the bouquet for Nika, then gave it to her.

“You really are sweet,” Nika said, fluttering her eyes.

“It is our anniversary,” Damian replied, hiding the pink dusting his cheeks before Jon floated behind the two.

“Let me know when you're both ready,” Jon said.

Once Nika and Damian changed into suits made to withstand high speeds, they signaled they were ready. Jon flew the both of them out the window, then on their way to Moscow. He was able to make it to Moscow in around a minute before landing them somewhere in hiding where no one could spot their landing. From there, Damian and Nika changed out of their suits before placing them in Damian's bag before heading to their hotel Damian had booked for all three of them for one room.

Once in the room, Nika states, “you don't have to wear that, you know.” She was pointing to the fur cap.

“I know. I know you say it's ugly, but I like this. I guess it helps me know more about the place you came from,” Jon shrugged.

“I never thought much of the country I'm from,” Nika shrugged, looking outside. “I suppose that's why I left it at a moment's notice. I'm more interested in other planets. Your father come from a completely different planet from ours. That's more interesting!”

“She's not wrong, Jon,” Damian nodded in agreement. “However, I am curious about the hat.”

“I never liked it, but I don't know why we have it,” Nika spoke curiously. She then smirked slightly. “Or why one of our castles looks like something out of Candy Land.”

“Do you want to go in and find out?” Jon asked.

“Hm...” Nika hummed, thinking for a bit, then walked next to Jon with Damian on his other side. “I suppose I could check it out.”

Damian and Nika gave Jon a kiss on each side of his cheek, who smiled brightly. He held his two lovers. All three of them grinned as they planned the rest of their day at Red Square of Moscow.

[ruumirmir]

𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘺

ੈ♡˳ Author's note - I simply have too many unfiltered thoughts about them Sorry not Sorry. This is entirely self-indulgent and completely male-reader centered. Don't worry ladies,, If you're imaginative enough!! You too can self-insert into this yaoi!!! If any of these don't make sense to new readers Don'tttt worry about it :) Probably didn't make sense to ME either but the vibe matched. @eluxcastar my trusty co-pilot for this ship,, do you have any memes to add perchance 🎤🎤 I'd love to compile everything here.

If you think Pantalone isn't a possessive prick you're WRONG. Lucky for him some people are into that.

Being gorgeous and evil go hand-in-hand one cannot exist without the other

*Sighs dreamily* Dont we all

Synopsis of my first two Pantalone x Male reader requests everybody:

Im sorry but it would be fucking hilarious for the plot. Loverboy being soooooooo normal about the rumours going around that Dottolone are Such Close Business Partners,,

but actually dottolone fucking hate each other. Group projects tend to do that to people. Its the biomechanical malpractice doctor vs business unethics banker. And dottore getting a massive kick out of this one fatuu agent hating his guts . Idk Just a Thought :0

What being microwaved does to a man. Dont worry guys Pantalone can manipulate and gaslight me into a killing machine anyday bc he's hot <3

Hoyoverse canonizing Pantalone's anger-issues is the best thing that happened to me. you can never trust an anime snake with a (^‿^) face

One does not simply work in close proximity with a hot guy and Not think about getting boned atleast once.

Somebody save childe

Makes zero sense in hindsight but the lore is coming. trust 🙏 Something so delicious about finding your way back to the person that changed you forever.

Hes just a pathetic little guy your honor. Let us all enjoy his extreme sad boy demeanor and sopping wet meowmeowism before we put him through the HorrorsTM.

Synopsis of literally the most recent Loverboy one-shot by riri:

Something something blatant favoritism.

Reminder that Loverboy joins the Fatui as a part of mandated service right after graduating school at the fresh age of 18 and kills a guy roughly 3 years later :D

Peak dynamic btw. He can be your angle or yuor devil. As long as he's behind over your shoulder 👍

"I learned my passion in the Good Old Fashioned School of Loverboys"

Thankyou homoverse they made Pantalone a certified Yapper. Him and Loverboy are just the "Talks a lot" vs "Listens" ship

No caption. This was just funni

Hey guys can anyone tell that I love a good corruption arc.

Despite his increasingly worsening state of ethics, don't forget that deep down hes still going to be a sopping wet meowmeow💕

Idk blame @/eluxcastar riri they put the devil's temptation thoughts into my brain

[xaeyrnofnbe]

as far as buffy comics go, so far i have read:

buffy season 8 (a wild ride from start to finish, everyone was out of character, i still have no clue how anyone came up with ANY of that. i've kind come to terms with it though. funny as hell in hindsight.) (bonus points for the spangel crumbs littered here and there. points withdrawn for buffy's reaction to them.) (season 8 is bonkers bananas all the way through, you have GOT to read it if you haven't. hell of an experience.)

buffy season 9 (a lil rough around the edges but the plot was much more casually engaging, buffy and spike had some very cute moments in the first half and overall i just like what the comics do with spike's character, even if it's a little inconsistent. oh and the plot twists were very silly and fun) (spoilers: the resolution was a little weird but i found it much funnier than i probably should have when illyria sacrificed herself. guy trying to destroy the world bc his girlfriend died and illyria was just like. hey i knew a guy who's girlfriend died one time. how'd he live with it? no yeah he didn't. he died. sorry.)

angel & faith season 9 (loved the callbacks to prior stories, though the stuff with whistler was kinda lost on me. pearl and nash were ok. i liked seeing drusilla again! though i'd prefer to see more of who she is now. the plot involving angel's nipple piercing struck me dead on the spot, weirdest part of the whole thing.)

spike: a dark place (extremely silly, spike leading spaceship full of giant cockroaches was not something i knew i needed but they were so so entertaining. generally just so amusing. i'm totally incorporating an appreciation for space into his character when i write him now.)

spike: into the light (PEAK comic!spike. thank you james marsters. easily the lowest-stakes, most grounded of anything i've read so far, which was extremely refreshing. this guy gets dragged through the dirt the whole time and still manages to be hilarious and endearing throughout. loved him narrowly hiding his vampirism at every turn from dylan. my favorite detail was the constant flapping of the bottom of his shoe.)

buffy season 10 (currently a little ways through, EXTREMELY promising so far. total vibe shift from seasons 8 and 9, way more in line with the feel of the show. every scene with buffy and spike has me kicking my legs and twirling my hair. love those two. dunno how to feel about giles yet. i am ECSTATIC at the notion of xander finally getting some character development, but i'll hold back on celebrating until i get firm confirmation.)

angel & faith season 10 (reading at the same time as buffy s10, the different art styles are a bit jarring to bounce between. genuinely the art in this one is making it way harder to connect with. i LOVED the style in s9, so the shift to realism has been disappointing to say the least. genuinely i just Do Not Know how to feel about this season yet.) (also separating your 2 main leads when their dynamic was the central focus of the last season is certainly A Writing Choice.)