#did this instead of my programming homework :|

[coichii]

SNOWMAN ✭

—(🎧)—> you visit your best friend in Incheon again after 4 years, leaving with a burning feeling of loneliness and guilt. It doesn’t help that you’ve been in love with him since you were little, and the those feelings haven’t melted away at all.

pairing - childhoodbsf!han x fem!reader

genre - friends to ??, more angsty than fluff BY FAR

word count - 2.2k

warnings - accidental le sserafim reference (iykyk), starts with like no dialogue whoops, cursing, probably too much angst.

series note : hello !! welcome to part five of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “snowman” by Sia. enjoy <3

1570 days.

It has been 1570 days since you last stepped foot in Incheon, the city you had grown up in and spent all of your childhood.

It wasn’t easy to leave; saying goodbye to the one and only place you could call home. The smells of fresh bread sold by local vendors were instead replaced by the muck of New York City, having to go there for your abroad program.

However, it wasn’t the local taste that you would end up missing the most. No, instead it was him.

You can’t even remember when you became Han’s friend, probably some time in early pre-k. You two were inseparable, doing anything and everything together. From the sandbox to the 9-5.

He was so happy for you when you mentioned you had got accepted into your dream college, but his heart dropped and tears fell when you said it was in the states.

He was excited for you of course. You’re his best friend, how could he not be? But he’s not going to lie about the queasy feeling he got in his stomach when he thought of never seeing you again.

He couldn’t help the tears that sprung in his eyes when he thought about the possibility of you forgetting him. Couldn’t help migraine when thinking about you falling in love with someone but him. But he couldn’t stop you.

All he could do was drive you to the airport that one, rainy and cloudy day you left him, giving you one last tight hug before you left him. He felt like him letting you out of his grasp that day was the biggest mistake he had ever made.

You guys never stopped talking, of course. It was hard to talk with the time differences, but you always made time for each other. To be honest, you were up at 3am doing homework anyway, so what’s the harm in letting an energetic quokka ramble to you at 5pm.

Seeing Jisung grow in his career, as an idol, as a person, and not being able to be there are at you in a way you had never experienced. You couldn’t help the tears that sprung in your eyes when you thought about the possibility of him forgetting you. Couldn’t help migraine when thinking about him falling in love with someone but you.

You knew something he didn’t though. He was working away dance practice with the boys, thinking you were sleeping away the early hours of the morning. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

You were currently piling off a plane heading from JFK to Incheon, a long, grueling 15hr flight. It would all be worth it though, getting to see the love of you li— best friend after so long could heal everything in you.

You actually organized some of this with one of your other friends before you moved, Chris. He helped arrange you a place to stay after you landed, which after this flight and dark, winter sky, you couldn’t be more grateful for.

—

new message from : chan 🐺

chan 🐺 : did you land yet?

you : just did, I’m heading to baggage claim !!

chan 🐺 : okay, that’s good

chan 🐺 : I have everything prepared for you when you get to the hotel

chan 🐺 : just tell them I booked it

you : thank you so much, chris 🥲

chan 🐺 : no problem, y/n ☺️

—

You go through baggage claim, heart racing in the crowds of people. It wasn’t the anxiety of crowded places in this case. No, it was the excitement of seeing him for the first time in years.

The taxi ride is long and tiring, your eyes fluttering closed spontaneously as the driver brought you to the hotel.

You didn’t forget to tip them generous tip as you made it to the hotel chan had booked for you. It’s nice, obviously popular and rather big.

It’s no trouble booking in, making it to your room and plopping down on the bed almost immediately, not bothering to change your clothes.

In your dreams, you find yourself with him. The feeling of floating on a cloud as you hold him in your warm grasp is euphoric, making you miss the days where he would hold you in the same comforting embrace.

It’s only a couple of hours before you can see him again.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s now 7pm the next day. You’ve spent the day preparing yourself to see him again, waiting impatiently in the lobby.

It’s around the time he would be getting out of dance rehearsals, the building emptying out rather quickly. You even saw one of your old friends there too, Yuna, an idol you had met a little before moving when visiting with Han. The nostalgia hits hard, vision quickly turning blurry as you get word from Chris that he’s heading down now.

There, you see him.

He turns the corner, beautiful silky hair floating on his face like a halo. His eyes are like boba as he makes his way down the lobby’s hallways.

He turns his head, scanning the various faces on the sides, stopping and staring at a particular section.

There, he sees you.

“Uh. Hey, hannie.” You stammer, suddenly shy at his dropped jaw and shocked eyes. “It’s been a whi-“

You can finish your sentence as your suddenly tackled on the bench, Han stuffing his head deep into the crook of your neck. People are staring and whispering, but you couldn’t care less. All you care about is seeing him again.

“H-holy fuck. Y-yn, is it r-really you?” He whimpers, and you can feel his tears wetting your shoulders as he holds you.

He holds you as if you could slip through his fingers at any time, like you’re a delicate snowflake that can just melt away in a flash.

“Yes, yes, Hanji. It’s me.” You chuckle, but hot tears are filling your eyes as you do so. You stroke his soft hair as he starts to calm down, melting into your warm touch.

“W-why didn’t you tell me you were coming.” You coo as he continues to cry, him finally looking up at your face as if he has to convince himself that you’re really there, that you’re really you.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You giggle as Han wipes a stray tear from your cheek, leaning in to his touch as he pouts.

“Did anyone else know?” He asks, eye contact not ceasing.

“Only channie. He helped me plan this.” And Han groans at plants his face back into your neck.

“I’m going to kick his ass for not letting me know.” He mutters, voice blurred by your warm skin. You giggle, moving on of your hands from his head to his back.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” He mumbles, and you can feel your heart shattering into tiny, fragile shards.

“Oh, Hannie. But I’m here now aren’t I.” He whimpers in response, burying his face deeper into your chest.

The lobby is empty now, only stragglers walking through the hallways of the building. You can hear the sounds of the coffee machine whirring, its sounds blending in with the ambiance of the vacant room.

His breathing evens out and you sigh.

Wow, you really missed him.

◂—♥︎—▸

“What do you mean you’re only staying for the month?” Han asks, eyes sparkling

You were seated together in his studio. He had just shown you around the new JYPE building, it had been forever since you’ve been there.

You had to tell him; the guilt was burning at you. He looked so excited, so happy. You wanted to keep that same feeling, but you knew you had to go home— go back to the states within a month.

What were you thinking. That place wasn’t home, here is. Here in Korea with him was always home.

“I’m sorry hannie, but I have to.” You feel pathetic that that’s all you can say, all you can offer him. You can’t conceal the tears that fall down your own face, their pace quickening as a strangled whimper leaves his throat.

“I thought you were going to stay for longer.” He sounds so defeated, like a squeak toy that’s been used too much. It pains you. You wish you could stay for longer—no. You wish you could stay forever.

You can’t look in his eyes, choosing to look out the window at the frozen crystals that dance across the sky, the wind blowing them in all directions. You feel as helpless as them; just being blown in the wind of emotions and feelings.

“I wish I could stay forever, Han. But I can’t, I’m so so sorry.” You sob, breathe quickening and becoming uneven.

“Please don’t cry, y/n. I’m sorry. I’m just happy you can be here for the time you are.” He pulls you into his grasp, running comforting fingers over your skin.

You know he’s sorry for making you cry, but you feel the guilt again.

The guilt of leaving him by himself for more years to come.

“Wanna go out? Make the best of it while we can?” He asks, your head peering up at his, causing his own heart to break. The parallel makes you chuckle dryly; just the other day you were doing this to him as he cried about missing you, now you’re crying about missing him.

“Yeah. Just give me a second to calm down.” And he smiles, pushing your hair out of your starry eyes.

“Of course, I wasn’t going to let you go out like this anyways.” You can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood, so you let him.

“Oh? So I don’t look good right now?” You snicker, pushing off him playfully. He shakes his head no, stifling in a laugh.

“Ok then. Guess you’re not taking me anywhere.” You threaten playfully, and his boba eyes expand.

“No, no I’m playing. You look beautiful always y/n.” Your cheeks flush up and the sudden compliment.

It’s been a while since you’ve been that close, so hearing him compliment you like that erupted butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you hanji.” You blush, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m ready.”

“Cmon then. Let’s go.”

◂—♥︎—▸

“So, this is really it, huh?”

You’ve spent practically every day with him this month, whether that be waiting back stage for him to finish performances or going out to go eat lunch, yukgaejang warming your belly from the harsh, winter weather.

Soft touches littered throughout your conversations, intense eye contact that you hadn’t experienced in forever. The chemistry was unmatched.

But there you stood, wind blowing and raising goose bumps on your skin as you stared emptily at the airport. It’s the same one in Incheon that you had arrived in, but it’s not the same feelings.

Instead of the feeling of excitement and happiness, all you could feel was sadness and regret.

You weren’t sure where the regret was coming from. You could never regret visiting him, even though it was for a small time.

Maybe it’s the feeling of knowing he’ll be alone again, after all, this is the same airport he dropped you off at those four years ago.

The memory haunts you like a poltergeist, the look of tears that were on his face stuck in your mind permanently.

And look where you are now, standing infront of the same terminal, looking at the same sight again on his face.

“I guess so.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it.

The sound of the speakers distracts you. It’s a lady on it, sounding hapy as she announces that the plane is now boarding. You don’t know how she can sound so happy, after all, you’re not sure you will be feeling that way for the next couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry, Hanji. I wish I could stay longer.” You choke up, moving to hug him, hurrying your face into his chest as tears wet his shirt.

“Shhh, it’s okay y/n. We’ll never be apart, yeah?” He comforts, running his hands on your hair.

“Yah, y/n. You’re supposed to be the one comforting me, not the other way around.” He jokes, tilting your head up towards him to flash you a silly smile.

“We’ll always be together. Even if you’re in New york, or Chicago, or wherever the fuck you could be.” He wipes away a tear from your cheek as one falls down his.

“I’ll always l-love you. And we’ll always be us.” He’s kissing you then, and all the sounds of crowds melt away as he does so.

You wrap your arm around his neck, allowing him to pull you in deeper. It all feels so… so right. Tears melting together sweetly, as you lose yourselves in eachother.

It’s a long while before you pull away, distracted by the sound of the final boarding call announcement being made.

“I love you too, hannie.” You turn around, pushing your small tote bag further up your shoulder from where it had slipped. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

“No. See you later.” He grabs your hand one last time, bringing it up to his lips to leave one, lingering kiss. Pulling away was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do before.

“See you later, Hanji.”

[literaryslapshot]

LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD ⎯ S. CROSBY

y/n just wants the best for her son, she thinks the program rule of no freshmen players on varsity is stupid. she just did what any mother would do...right?

coach!sidney crosby x teacher!single mom!reader

warnings: angst, smut (fingering, handjob, sex on a table), somewhat of an inappropriate relationship, single parent content, light talk of divorce, lowkey based off of "slut!" by taylor swift

word count: 4,244

a/n: look at that....i do still know how to write

The bitterness of the coffee wasn’t doing it’s job. On her third cup and it’s not even ten in the morning, Y/N waits for the next period of students to walk through her door. Taking in one of the few moments of silence she has, she refreshes the page on the sports page on the school website, itching to see her son’s name. 

Carter had tryouts with the hockey team last week, he had been talking about it since the beginning of the month. He was training every day to make varsity; in leagues ever since he was ten years old every single coach and spectator could not brag enough on how much talent he had. Y/N was pressured to send him across the country, even out of the country, to go to the top hockey camps but as a single mother she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to send her baby off to some strangers for a few months, and she couldn't afford to move away from family either. 

But her heart dropped as she refreshed the page, pulled up this season's roster, and saw her son’s name and number on the junior varsity roster instead of varsity. She didn’t understand it, she was told by the coaches herself that he was the best kid on the ice that day. Why didn’t he make varsity? 

Her questions were interrupted by students flooding into the classroom for the start of the next period. She pulled herself out of her thoughts to then teach this class period. Reluctantly though. 

-

The final bell rang and that meant she was done for the day. Saying goodbye to her students Y/N started to gather papers and put them in the “to grade” folder to take home with her before tidying up some areas of the room. She anticipated her son’s arrival. Ever since moving up to high school he always stopped by her room at the end of the day to talk about school and help her carry things to her car. 

“I didn’t make it.” Carter said as a greeting when he walked in the empty room. His face was defeated, his tall slender frame was slumped over in sadness and his eyes welling with tears. Out of all people Y/N knew and saw how hard he worked to make varsity his freshman year. He skated over fifty laps a day, worked on shots in the garage until way past dusk, he also started to lift more weights. 

“Oh baby, c’mere,” Y/N pulled her much taller son in for a hug. There he broke and rested into his mother's arms like a little kid again. He softly cried before pulling away. 

“I don’t get it mom, they told me i’d make it for sure, why would he tell me-” “Don’t worry about it son, I will talk to the coach first thing in the morning. I promise. But for now you have to play the cards you were dealt,” Y/N consoled her son in the way moms know how. Gathering her bags she gave the heaviest one to Carter to help carry out the building. They continued chatting on the way to her car, talking about school and homework he had for the week. Carter was a special kid, he deeply cared about his grade and education. He remembers promising his mom when he was younger that if he ever got to play hockey in college that he would get his degree and not go to the draft early. 

Carter was a momma’s boy through and through. His dad lived an hour away so he spent the weekends there twice a month, but he’s at his mom’s house the rest of the time. Carter is also protective of his mom too. He never told her this, but he’s beat in a couple boys’ faces because they made some lewd comments about her. He’s respectful of her, more than any other man on earth ever has been. Y/N is very proud of how she’s raised her son. 

“Okay son, go to practice. Have a positive attitude, don’t do anything stupid okay? I know you’re frustrated but just go into practice and do you, maybe they got you mixed up with someone else. But-” she saw his facial expressions change and get tense, she knew that he was still angry inside, “hey, don’t get mad at them. Wait until I talk and then you and I will figure something out.”

They walked in opposite directions, Carter to the athletic building and Y/N back to the school for one more item in her classroom. Hustling as best she can so she can get home, she runs into the person she didn’t want to speak to until in the morning. Coach Crosby. 

She felt her body coil and tense up in anger at just the sight. She was supposed to wait until morning, but her tongue got the best of her. 

“Coach! Hey, can I ask you a quick question?” she pulls him to the side, into an empty classroom where the teacher had left for the day. 

“What’s up?” Sidney asked, sitting down on one of the wooden desks. He was wearing black joggers, a tight pullover with a school cap on. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the material of his clothing clung to his toned body. He had been out of the professional league for at least two years, but he still kept up the physical shape of his body, and it was obvious by the way his pants were stretching at the seams on his thighs. 

“I really don’t want to be that parent, but can you tell me why Carter didn’t make varsity?” Sidney cocks his head to the side. He’s only been on sight three months and he’s already dealing with this. 

“Well, it’s my understanding that freshmen must be on the JV team, no matter how good they are. That rule was put in place before I got here.” He explained while crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles making his pullover look incredibly small on his frame. “He’s a good kid though, he’ll make great improvements this year and I'll look forward to having him on varsity next year.” Sidney said, trying to end the conversation and smooth things over.

“But…you’re the new coach. This is your program now, not someone else’s.” Y/N couldn’t really understand what he was getting at. Did he not see the potential in her son that everyone seemed to say? Did he not see the great player, the great athlete that Carter was? Maybe it was just her being a mother, and so obviously her child is the best compared to other kids. But she swore she didn’t want to be like those parents. She remembers being a kid in youth sports herself and hated parents who thought their kid should be player of the week every week. In her mind, she needed to earn player of the week because of her work ethic, not because her parents were board members. 

“Right but I'm not trying to ruffle any feathers my first year. This is barely my program, I need to establish relationships before I change things here,” Y/N takes a step closer to Sidney, her hands folded in front of her. 

“But you’re Sidney Crosby, who can say no to you?” God she feels horrible for doing this, she feels like…like some junior league mom whose husband has nothing between his ears. But she thinks, if she can just rile him up for a minute, startle him, then he’ll change his mind and put Carter on varsity. That’s her end goal, get her son feeling better. If that means pretending to be a horny college student again, so be it. “I mean really, they had to give you this job cause they trust you. So obviously you can do what you want, like putting my son on your varsity team.”

He sighs, looking down at his shoes. He knows what she’s doing…and he can’t believe it’s sort of working. He hasn’t had a woman flirt with him in heaven knows how long. He doesn’t even know how to respond to such a thing anymore. His life for the past almost twenty years has been nothing but hockey. Sidney’s family has been asking him for a long time when he is going to settle down with someone, but nobody ever scratched that itch quite like hockey did. But now? That he’s got a woman in front of him, a gorgeous one at that, who’s buttering him up? Maybe he’ll give in…just to see what it feels like. 

“Your son is a hell of a player, Y/N. He really could go far,” His words got heavier as she got closer, he could smell her perfume, he could feel her breath, he could see her chest move up and down with every huff she took- “so put him on your team, Coach.” she put her hand on his chest softly and she sighed feeling his stern muscles. “C’mon, what’s it gonna take? Dinner and a show?” 

His eyes, dark and blown, looked into hers and if he remembers what the term eye fucking means then that’s exactly what they were doing. His breaths became short but heavy as she left a heavy hand on his chest. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, trying her best to work her charm that she used to have. She hopes she’s still got it. 

He thinks, thinks, and thinks. This is a bad decision. 

“My place, six thirty tomorrow evening. Give me your best sales pitch, and we’ll see about the show.” 

Sidney stands up and for a brief second his nose bumps hers, an innocent touch but it makes him take a deep breath in to calm himself down. He exits the empty class room and takes long strides to get to practice, glancing at his watch he’s already a few minutes behind. 

-

She’s eternally grateful that Carter is with his dad this weekend. How could she explain to him that she’s not really going on a date…but she’s going to his coach's house with plans to seduce him..but again it’s not a date. Of course, she’d have to leave out the seducing part. She put on her best dress that she had, it was pretty simple but it hugged her figure nicely. She made sure to spritz some extra perfume on as well. 

The drive to Sidney’s house is silent, it’s her having fake conversations in her head about what to say or what not to say. Debating on if her seduction speech was still on date or if it’s too cheesy now. She suddenly feels like she lives in the lowest tax bracket possible when entering his neighborhood; she's never seen so many fake lawns before. She’s actually never been on this side of town much, except to look at christmas lights when Carter was younger. Now that he’s older he doesn’t care for that stuff anymore. 

“Nice place you’ve got,” she said walking into his entry way. To her surprise Sidney dressed up a little bit, wearing a button up with a nice pair of slacks, the top two buttons undone for visual purposes of course. He takes her coat and her purse, hanging it up by the door. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Well, I figured I'd go simple with just spaghetti and toast, with dessert to follow if that’s okay.” Sidney went into his pantry and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “This okay?” He holds the bottle in the air and she nods her head, sitting at his kitchen bar watching him pour a glass. She takes a glance at the label and she’s taken back. On her teacher salary she definitely can’t afford that brand.

Maybe she’s in over her head here- she didn’t think about any of this stuff. Suddenly she’s this woman who doesn’t have much to her name, sitting in a millionaire’s kitchen drinking wine that costs well over two hundred dollars- but damn if it doesn’t taste good. 

They make small talk before heading into the dining room where he sets dinner onto the table for her, such a gentleman. Continuing the semi dull conversation she thanks him for making a meal for her, joking that she’s never had a man make dinner for her. Only half true, her dad growing up would make dinners for her family. But when she married Carter’s dad, she was the chef in the family. Not that she was complaining, it was just odd for her to be on the reverse side for the first time in a while. 

“I am sorry about that idiotic rule, Y/N. Carter can easily be a varsity player.” Sidney broke the minute silence after finishing off his second glass of wine that night. She huffs, finishing her plate and scooting it away from her on the table. Was she really about to do this?

“Is there anything I can do, sidney? C’mon my boy’s in shambles, he’s thinking that he’s not as good as everyone makes him out to be,” Y/N reaches her hand out to rest on his softly. “Is there anything I can do?” 

Y/N hoped he knew what she was implying and that she didn’t have to say it out loud. 

And he did. 

He understood every word she said and the words that were left unsaid. He knew what she was implying and he knew what she was getting at. But Sidney hated that he was willing to do what she wanted. Y/N was leaning forward on the table, getting close enough to Sidney where he could smell her perfume and her lotion mixed together, he could see a couple small freckles up close as he couldn’t see them from a bit further away. 

There were no words exchanged between them, his eyes kept drifting from her tinted lips to her lustful eyes, back and forth a couple times before resting his hand on her cheek and pressing his lips against hers gently. Immediately he felt a rush of arousal- it’s just a kiss, really? He silently asked himself. He hadn’t gotten this aroused in a while, a long while. 

Both parties leaned into the kiss, wanting and aching for more. They tasted wine on each other and felt each other’s temperature begin to rise. Sidney got out of his chair, lips still connected to hers, and got closer. She stood up, one hand cupping his chin and the other resting on his chest, and she leaned against the dining table. She hadn’t made out with someone in years, she hopes she’s doing it right. 

She gets pushed onto the table just by the force of his body so now she’s sitting on the wooden table, Sidney standing in between her legs with both of his hands cupping her face. He doesn’t care if he seems desperate or if he seems needy, or if this is totally wrong and against almost all of the words he signed in his contract, he can’t seem to get enough of her. Sidney feels her play with the buttons of his shirt and how she begins to pull the shirt up and out of his dress pants. It was easy since he wasn’t wearing a belt. 

He didn’t even know that she completely unbuttoned his shirt until he felt her hands roam all over his naked chest, her hands slowly raking up and down his toned muscles. He takes a breath and scans her body. Her skin is hot to the touch, her eyes are completely blown now and her lips are parted. “How do I get this off you?” he asked, taking a fist of the hem of her dress.

“There's a tie in the back,” she huffed out, not able to take her hands off his body. Plus, she wants him to take it off of her. 

“You tied this yourself?” he asked in shock, surprised at how she tied such a perfect bow on her back with such thin strings. 

“I’ve been tying, zipping, buttoning my dresses myself for the past twelve years now, safe to say I got pretty good at it.” God- has she been alone for the past twelve years? Nobody to love on, kiss on, touch on this wonderful body of hers? Sidney takes in a sharp breath when he pulls the dress off of her and he gives her body a quick scan over. Wearing a strapless bra that she’s almost spilling out of, she has on silk leopard print panties that he can’t help but notice a significant damp spot on. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands roaming over her soft skin. “Don’t make fun of me, it’s been a long time since I've hooked up with someone.” because that’s just what this is, a hookup. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“I haven’t since I got divorced, so it's the same here.” she hooks her leg around his pulling him closer. He pressed his lips against hers again this time most softly. His hand goes down to play with the hem of her panties, “you sure about this?” 

“Very sure, don’t mess with a pissed off mama sidney.” she pulls him down with her as she lays down on the table. He kisses down her body, she arches her back and lets him take her bra off. Tossing it onto the floor Sidney wraps his lips around one of her hardened nipples. She lets out a heavenly sounding moan at the action.

It’s been so long she could cum just from Sidney doing this for a couple minutes longer. One hand slips down over her clothed cunt, rubbing her sensitive and wet area. She arches her body into his, already she’s lost in a great euphoric high that she can’t even mumble words. All that’s coming out is moans and gasps. 

He removes his mouth and Sidney stands up, she watches up on her elbows as he takes his pants off and removes his boxers. She bites her lip at the size - the sight - of his hardened dick in his hand. She reaches out for it herself, “you’ll give me what I want, and I promise you won’t regret it.” he thought for a moment too long, she began to doubt herself but he spoke up, “deal.”

She licks her hand before taking a grip on his cock. Slowly she starts stroking up and down, keeping harsh eye contact with sidney. She gives him a nice squeeze and a twist of her hand which makes him throw his head back in pleasure. He can only do so much with his hand, it’s nice to have someone else for a change. Y/N scoots closer to him on the table, with one of his hands he works his hand over one of her breasts softly massaging it. She leans into his touch and continues to work her hands over his hard cock. 

He moves his hand from her breast down and slips it into her soaked panties. At first his fingers were a little cold but they quickly warmed up after being immersed in her sex. He circles around her clit a couple times, getting familiar with the female body again. He explores for a minute or two, his middle finger teasing her hole. The more he teases her the harder her grip gets on his cock. He pulls his hand out of her panties, they’ve never broken eye contact this whole time and he sucks everything off of his hand. God that was hot. 

Sidney removes her hand from his cock fearing if she kept going he would cum all over her hand and that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He’s panting heavy now, his body forming sweat on his forehead. He pushes her down onto the table with a palm on her chest lining his cock up with her entrance, “wait do I need any-”

She chuckles, “that ship sailed a while ago, just fuck me like you mean it coach.” 

With her permission she slides in and she lets out a long, loud, moan as he does it. He wants to hear that on repeat for the rest of his life, he swears. Sidney puts both hands on her hips, keeping her body steady as he rocks in and out of her, his hips meeting her every time. 

Sidney allows to feel himself in her warm, wet walls. He throws his head back in pleasure and she shuts her eyes tight. Her hands come up to her breasts to add to the pleasure, fingers pinching both of her nipples as she feels his huge cock pump in and out of her small hole. He feels like he’s three feet deep inside of her, he feels lost in how good she feels. His head grows foggy each time he squeezes her. 

Sidney hits the spongy spot in her tight cunt that made her gasp out in pleasure, she sang his name like a chant over and over which made him fuck her harder and harder. She warned him about her orgasm and he did the same, begging her to cum with him. A few more pumps of his cock he spilled his heavy load inside of her and she moaned loudly like a queen when he did. He pulled his cock out of her, watching his load spill out with it. 

Maybe it was the post orgasm haze she was in, maybe it was the lovestruck feeling she had the minute they began making out, but minutes later she’s standing between him and the cold shower wall. His forehead pressed against hers. His fingers knuckle deep in her cunt and a hand wrapped around her throat as hot water rained down on either of them, her cunt squeezing his thick fingers while she couldn’t even say anything but his name. That’s exactly what he wanted. 

The hot shower water kept her eyes shut but she knew that he was gazing at her. He was in awe of her facial expressions, how she bit her lip through a smile with every jerk he made with his hand, when she furrowed her eyebrows when she was on the edge of cumming, and how she cocked her head to the side while he kissed around her neck silently asking for more. 

He took his hand away from her pussy, licking the honey off his fingers. He stayed that close to her though knowing her legs were probably jello and she wasn’t able to stand for at least a minute or two. 

She took a deep breath, “got what you wanted?” she asked in a joking tone, moving her hand up and down his chest in the hot steamy shower. He chuckled, his hands never leaving her body. He palmed her breasts, he seemed to have a thing for those she contemplated, heavy lustful eyes staring into hers. 

“How many more you got in you?” he asked, spreading her legs with his thigh.

“I can give you as much as you want.” Y/N answered, her hands slowly roaming down lower and lower on his chest and stomach. 

“Then no, I didn’t get what I want yet.”

-

She woke up in Sidney’s bed the next morning with messy hair and sore muscles. Looking over on the nightstand the clock read 8:02 AM. She was glad that it was a Saturday and she was able to sleep in. She saw that Sidney was still asleep, he laid on his stomach with his head facing the other way. Looking over his back, studying the freckles, the faded scars. Y/N wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can. 

She hates to admit but she really fell for Sidney. Not because of how skilled he was in bed, or because he could do wicked things with his hands, but she shared a few heartfelt conversations with him before tryouts even began. 

He cared for the kids at school, the kids he taught and the kids he coached. He had a heart for the coming generation. He wanted them to have someone in their corner, and some kids don’t have that at home and he wants to be that. She got lovestruck in the past few months, sure she never planned on sleeping with him, she felt young again with how big of a crush she had. It went straight to her head, it all moved so fast. 

God if her mother were still here she could just hear the word “slut!” come out of her mouth if her mom found out what happened. But she wouldn’t care. She enjoyed it, and she was sure Sidney enjoyed it too. 

But still, she can’t help but think to herself what did I just do?

Sidney turns his head and sees that she’s also awake. Raising up he sees the time, 8:10. He doesn’t even care that he missed his morning workout session an hour late. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer to him, tucking his head in her neck. With dry lips Sidney placed a tender lingering kiss on her hot skin.

It might be worth it for once, she thinks. 

feedback | masterlist | au tag

tagging mutuals to boost, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged! @fallinallincurls @nylwnder @bitchinbarzal @ilyasorokinn @leafsbabe @twinklelilstarkey @raysofcrosby @lcandothisallday

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 6

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.5k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: You can't avoid it any longer -- it's time for you and Din to talk.

a/n: I feel like this is the moment many of you have been waiting for, lol. I'm very excited to see your reactions! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit more angst (sorry), but they are going to talk!

Chapter 6

You thought about your conversation with Kuiil as you walked to your rehearsal with Adrian, as you stretched and practiced in your morning classes, and as you took the stage over the weekend in Vince’s piece in the mixed program. You thought about it as you watched Din and Yuna in the Balanchine ballet and as you did your PT for your ankles and as you talked with Talia about your role in Midsummer. You thought about it as you sat on the bus home at night, so tired and achy that you needed something to think about to keep you awake.

You thought about it so much you barely had time to think about anything else.

Was Kuiil right? Was Din more uncertain than frustrated? Was he finding it difficult to communicate and connect in a way he hadn’t before, at CBC? You thought about seeing him on stage with Yuna, and how effortless that had seemed. But Balanchine’s choreography, more than so many others, was so technical, so focused on precision. There was so much less room for the dancer in a ballet where all of the space was taken up by striving for technical perfection. 

In class, you let your eyes stray to Din for the first time in two weeks. You watched as he stretched and jumped and wondered if perhaps you had just been talking past each other.

What if he’s trying, and you simply haven’t realized it? What if he just doesn’t know how?

He’s never done this before, you reminded yourself. 

Your mind was swimming as you stepped into the studio for your fourth rehearsal with Kuiil. You found Din was already there, as usual, and tried not to stare as you worried over your questions. You resolved to be more observant, this time.

And this time, because you were looking for it, you finally saw what Kuiil was talking about.

More than once, as you danced, Din reached for you, literally and figuratively. You leapt past and he oriented his body towards yours, echoing your movement. He turned, but kept his eyes on you as he did. You could see him trying in the ways he knew, to shape his movements around yours, to showcase his partner on stage, but his discomfort with improvisation shone through. The problem was that all of his movements were so stylistically different from yours, that there was little for you to hold on to. And so the two of you struggled to react to each other, as Kuiil had asked.

You tried. You tried to respond to him, to react, but it threw both of you off. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to improvise so drastically. Suddenly the dance was disjointed, and you fell so badly out of step in trying to turn towards him when he moved away from you that you stumbled. 

The music stopped.

Din turned to look at Kuiil and you spun around to do the same. 

Kuiil simply looked at you both for a moment, and then sighed. “I have pushed you too much, I think, and forgotten the basics of partnership. And you will need to work together, to connect more deeply, as we begin the second movement.” You started to shake your head, but Kuiil held up his hand. “No. Here is what we will do, as you prepare for Midsummer and Swan Lake.”

And then he gave you homework.

…

“So, what, is Kuiil going to lock you in a room until you talk to each other?” Adrian’s voice was teasing, but you could tell he meant it.

“Not quite,” you said. “But instead of rehearsal next week we’re supposed to try to get to know each other. To talk.”

He smirked at you. “Ooooh, to talk.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes?” You poked him in the side and he yelped. “Stop teasing me and help me figure out what to talk to him about.”

He laughed. “I think you know what to talk about. You just have to figure out how to get him to talk at all.”

You shook your head. “He’s talked to me. Just not about… this.” You waved your arm at all of the problems you’d been having in rehearsal.

Adrian seemed to consider that for a moment. “You know, you’re right. He does talk to you, in a way he doesn’t talk to anyone else.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe all you need to do is ask.”

…

You followed Adrian’s advice and started with simply asking Din to meet you at the rehearsal studio, without Kuiil, to talk. He agreed readily and you decided to take that as a good sign.

It was the week of Midsummer’s debut, and you were focused to the point of distraction on your role as Hermia. You appreciated it for taking your mind off of the disaster that was the pas de deux, though, and by the time you found yourself outside of the studio where you’d meet Din you realized you’d barely thought about the meeting at all.

(Well, not much. Not as much as the week before, at least.)

He was, as usual, already inside.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your bag and shoes before moving to join him where he sat with his back to the mirror. As you slid down beside him, he nodded in greeting. 

“So,” you said, when it became obvious Din wasn’t going to jump in first. “I think we both know what the problem is, but where do we start?”

You looked at Din and took a moment to observe him up close. He was staring straight ahead, but you didn’t think he was looking at anything in particular. He seemed too inside his own mind for that.

Just when you began to worry that you’d have to push him, that this wasn’t going to work because he wasn’t going to meet you halfway, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” 

You blinked, startled — you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. Did he think you meant he was the problem?

“What? Din, no—”

He shook his head and finally turned to look at you. His expression was as closed to you as always. “No, I want to say this. Let me… let me say this. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I can’t…” he trailed off, but this time you didn’t interrupt. You turned slightly towards him on the floor, extending your left leg and drawing your right knee to your chest. You gave him your full attention. He looked down at his hands and continued, softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been so worried that I won’t be able to… to let go of my training. To dance in any other way. To do anything else.” 

You wanted to reach out to him, but you were worried he would startle if you did. You laced your own fingers together and squeezed your hands around your knee.

“I can see the problems, but I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know how to move like you do. I don’t know how to do anything but what I’ve always done. I don’t know…” Suddenly he looked up at you, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sheer emotion in his eyes. “I want to dance this with you. I want to partner with you. But I can’t seem to figure out how — not because of you. Because of me.”

You were reaching before you could stop yourself and lightly rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t startle, but he did look down at it, brow furrowed. You forced yourself to leave it there and squeezed his arm lightly. 

“Din, I…” you weren’t sure how to reassure him. You’d seen his discomfort in rehearsals and you knew this was new to him, even if he hadn’t told you so before. You decided to share your own worries instead, since he had just been so open with his own. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever gotten. I mean, you know I’ve got Hermia, and then the spring fairy in Cinderella… but I’ve never been chosen for something like this before. I’ve never had a chance like this.” He lifted his head and met your eyes again, and this time his eyes were soft. It encouraged you to continue. “And you’re so good, I’ve been so worried that I’m not…” you bit your lip and squeezed his arm again when he opened his mouth. You shook your head and he nodded, letting you continue. “That I’m not good enough. I’ve had bad reviews before and I’m not even a principal and I know there are people out there who think I’m not good enough to be one. I—”

This time, Din cut you off. “That’s absurd.” His tone was flat, like his point was so obvious he couldn’t believe he had to say it.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head, his gaze dancing over your face. He covered your hand on his left arm with his right and squeezed. “Of course you deserve to be a principal. They should have already promoted you. Karga clearly wants to, anyway. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in that barely-there smile and you felt your cheeks start to heat as his praise continued. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me watching you. It wasn’t just for our homework. You’re… amazing. I don’t know how you put so much emotion into your dancing at the same time as so much such skill and technique. Like in Midsummer, everything you bring to Hermia, it’s…” His eyes scanned your face again, and you wondered if you were gaping at him. It felt like it. “It’s so real. And connected. I feel like a robot, compared to you. I’ve been trying to find that connection for myself, but…” he trailed off again and let his hand slip from where it covered your own. You took your hand back, too.

A connection, he said. “Um, thank you. Maybe…” you started, hesitant. He looked at you again. “Maybe we can help each other. Practice together, outside of our rehearsals.”

He nodded. You nodded back, and then you both laughed, a little. You’d never seen him laugh before and couldn’t help but stare.

You felt a bit shaky after all of that honesty and decided to lighten the air a little. “Ok, well, one thing we definitely need to do is get to know each other, right? So we’re comfortable together.” He nodded, and his expression was so open you had to force yourself to keep going, rather than to simply marvel at the fact that he’d dropped his mask. For you. “So. How about we each get 10 questions, but we can pass if we need to. Ok?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

You shrugged. “It’s a good way to get to know someone, especially when you have to dance with someone new.”

Din nodded. “Alright. You go first.”

Over the next half hour you learned that Din’s favorite color was black (“come on, really?” “Fine, my second favorite is green.”), he hated smart technology (“I don’t want my fridge to talk to me. I want it to be a fridge.”), and his favorite ballet he’d ever been in was, surprisingly, Giselle (“it’s not in the normal repertoire there, and they didn’t like how I danced it. But I did. It was the most free I’ve ever felt on stage.”).

You wanted to ask more about why he’d left CBC, but that felt like too much for your first real conversation. You did learn, though, that he had a son.

“Grogu,” he said, “that’s his name. He’s five. He loves watching ballet.” Din smiled a little, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know if he’ll want to dance, but at least he likes watching me do it.”

You smiled. He was more open when he talked about his son, who must have been the little boy you saw him with, back in December. “Sounds like he sits through it better than my family.”

Din laughed, and shook his head. “We’ll see if it changes as he gets older.”

“Is that why you’re always in such a hurry?”

He nodded. “My friend takes care of him during the day, but I hate leaving him for so long. She lives close by so I try to go home for lunch, on the weekends, or to pick him up from school.”

That made sense. A new understanding of Din was forming in your mind — not an avoidant, aloof principal dancer, but a father who wanted to spend time with his son as much as he wanted to dance. Someone with more on his mind than fitting into this new company — you imagined the move must have been difficult on Grogu, too. 

“How’s he settling in here?”

Din looked at you, that little half smile back on his lips. “Just fine. He likes his new kindergarten, he’s made some friends. Better than I even hoped, really.”

You nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s liking it. I bet that was a difficult transition for him. And you.”

Din sighed. “A bit. But it was necessary.”

Before you could even consider asking what he meant by that, you both heard commotion in the hall. You checked the time and realized you needed to get to your next rehearsal. Din stood first and offered you his hand.

You slid your hand into his, and he squeezed it as he pulled you up. 

“This was a good idea,” he said, squeezing your hand again. “Do you think next week will go better?”

You nodded. “I think so. But do you want to meet beforehand, to talk about the choreography? Maybe figure out where we can find each other instead of missing each other.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.”

…

You felt lighter after your conversation with Din. You hadn’t solved the problem, of course, but you’d at least talked to each other. It felt like the air was clearer, now that you both knew the other was struggling in some way. Neither of you was alone in it.

Over the weekend you focused on Midsummer — it was a big deal for you, getting cast as Hermia. You were excited to dance through her turmoil. She was so torn, as a character, and you wanted to portray that on stage. 

As you prepared and stretched on Friday night, you thought about what Din had said — that he couldn’t figure out how to dance in a new way, and that he felt like a robot. You shook your head. A robot? You weren’t sure what he was feeling while he danced, but Din never looked like a robot when he was performing. He’d said, too, that he loved being in Giselle, an overall more emotional performance than much of CBC’s usual repertoire. That he’d felt free. 

You thought about his face, every time you’d seen behind the mask, and you knew he could do it. You just had to help him figure out how to find that connection again, and how to lower the mask more while he was performing.

As you stepped out on stage that night, you let that certainty ground you. As you performed your variation, you’d never felt more like you were floating.

...

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a/n: they talked!!! what do we think?

Pas de deux & partnering -- Partnering in ballet is hard! There has to be a lot of trust and communication between partners, even though you don't necessarily need to be like best friends. These two are so advanced and have been in companies for so long that they are able to jump into something like this, but they still have to establish a partnering relationship, which is tough! To give you an idea of just some of what goes into partnering, here's a video of "beginning tips" (skip to around ~12:00 for some interesting stuff on balance). Din is used to verrrrry formal partnering, and that is some of the reason for their communication issues.

Midsummer - reader is dancing the role of Hermia in A Midsummer's Night Dream, which can go to either a principal or a soloist, just depending on the company. Here's a nice overview of the two acts and the ballet from the San Francisco Ballet. Here's a video of a dancer breaking down the role. Here's a couple examples of Hermia's famous variation (solo): one, two. Hermia has other big moments in the ballet but I've mostly been mentioning reader prepping for the solo. Companies might also spread out the roles over different nights or weekends -- in this case reader has Hermia for one weekend, like Adrian has Puck for one weekend (which isn't really mentioned in the fic because I didn't think it was relevant). (Is it a little unbelievable that reader is so unsure about her possible promotion if she got this role? Maybe. Soloists could get this role, especially a first soloist!)

Spring fairy - reader is dancing the role of the spring fairy in Cinderella, too. This and Midsummer are big story ballets that would draw an audience. Here's another two performances of the spring fairy variation and all of the fairies in one video from a 2003 Royal Ballet production. Spring starts ~2:30. The wiki page has a nice overview of the numbers in each act, so you can see where the fairies come in. The wiki lists 4 acts, though, and most companies do it like ABT I think -- with 2 acts. And here's a full length recording.

Giselle - Din mentions this briefly and we'll learn more later, but here's an overview of the ballet. (it's one of my favs)

tag list coming in a reblog!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 3 part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Answer My Call won by all one one vote last week. I was a bit nervous since I'm starting a new POV and I wasn't sure if I wanted to write from Tucker's POV or Tim's, but I settled on Tucker because it would let me dive into the action a bit sooner.

Story Summary: Danny's missing. The GIW have taken over Amity. Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are under constant surveillance and have been scattered across the country.

When Jazz's messages to Danny go to the wrong number, Red Hood decides to step in.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

Tucker was alone in his dorm room working on homework. His desk was in the corner in a way that meant his computer screen faced the wall. It meant he had barely three feet of space to sit in, but after everything that had happened, he couldn’t let anyone sneak up behind him to spy on his work.

His roommate hated him for it because it took up so much extra space in their small room, but he was never around anyway, so Tucker didn’t really care what he thought.

He jumped when a loud knocking sounded on his door.

“Coming!” he called out as he took the time to save everything he had open and close all programs. He slammed it shut and squeezed out of his chair, half running to the door. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. Tyler isn’t here right now, I think he said something about spending time with Liz?”

Then he actually looked at the people at his door. The one was a broad boy wearing a spiked leather jacket over jeans. The other had a bulky sweatshirt on and a baseball cap. His face was shadowed as he was looking down at a tablet, typing away.

The bigger one was grinning at him. “You’re Tucker, right? We’re here to see you, not Tyler.”

Tucker blinked at them. “Why?” he asked, confused. People had given up on being friendly with him weeks ago.

The boy with the tablet huffed. “We’re here to invite you to our club.”

Tucker looked between them in confusion. “What?”

Tablet guy still didn’t look up. “We heard you like ghosts. We’re the officers of the student horror club and wanted to offer you a spot. Mind letting us in so we can tell you about it?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not interested in joining any clubs right now. Thanks, but no thanks.” He went to shut the door, but leather jacket stuck out his foot, keeping it from shutting.

“Just hear us out. We think you’d be perfect for it as an expert on ghosts.”

Tucker clenched his fists to hide their shaking. What did they know? Who sent them? He glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tablet boy raised his head slightly, revealing a domino mask covering his eyes. He grinned, more a baring of teeth than anything. In a tone just loud enough to be heard, he said, “One of my associates is currently in Boston. I decided to come here instead.” In a normal ton he added, “Let me tell you about the horror club.”

Tucker’s mouth fell open. How? Boston? What had Jazz done? His eyes flitted down the hallway. But they were blocking his path and he wouldn’t be able to get past them. Dumbly, he stepped back, opening the door further.

Leather jacket grinned at him. “Thanks, dude,” he said.

Behind them, Tucker shut the door. His hand fell to his pocket where a lipstick laser was hidden.

Tablet boy was already pulling the blinds down over the window. When done, he handed his tablet to Tucker. It was open to a message that said: “We’re on your side. Turn off your devices. I’m going to set off a EMP and signal jammer.”

Tucker nodded and handed the tablet back.

Leather Jacket cleared his throat. “So, with the horror club, we meet once a week…”

Tucker only half-listened to his spiel. He used his phone to send a coded warning to Dani before turning it off. Then he went through his belongings and did the same to every laptop, PDA, tablet, and gaming system. If he turned on a ghostly recording device hidden inside an action figure, however, no one would know.

As soon as he was done, he nodded to Tablet Guy who pulled out a black cube from his backpack and pressed a button. The he pulled out another device and turned that on as well.

“That’s enough, Kon,” he said, pulling off his cap.

Leather Jacket—Kon?—grinned. “What, you don’t want to hear about my favorite horror movie, Rob?”

“I introduced you to your favorite horror movie. I know it as well as you do.”

Kon just laughed. Then he unzipped his jacket, revealing a blue outfit with Superman’s “S” on it.

“Holy shit,” breathed Tucker. What had Jazz done?

Tablet guy followed, pulling off his cap and removing his hoodie, revealing a red costume with a gold bird medallion in the center of his chest. “Nice to meet you, Tucker. I’m Red Robin, and this is Superboy. I’ve got some questions for you.”

Tucker’s eyes jumped between the two. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

Superboy laughed. “Didn’t expect to see us?”

Tucker could only shake his head. “You said Boston?” he asked.

“Red Hood is with Jazz as we speak. She asked for our help in rescuing Danny. We agreed.”

Tucker tensed. He was lying. They’d talked about reaching out to the Justice League dozens of times, but had decided they couldn’t be trusted. Jazz wouldn’t have gone to them. He reached into his pocked and pulled out the lipstick.

Both heroes tensed, though their wariness turned to confusion when they saw he only had a small lipstick tube.

Good, let them underestimate him. “Jazz wouldn’t go to the Justice League. We agreed it wasn’t safe. Why are you really here?”

Red Robin grinned at him and held up his hands. “All right, you’re right. I simplified for time’s sake. Jazz has been sending messages to a phone number she thought belonged to her brother Danny. But really, they were going to Red Hood. He’d been getting them for ages now, but was…out of town. As soon as he got back, he began looking into Amity and the GIW. When he couldn’t find anything, he brought me in on the case. When that still didn’t work, we called Jazz back. She decided to take a chance on us since Red Hood doesn’t work with the government. And, honestly, I’ve done quite a bit outside the law, too, even if I’m not as public about it.”

Tucker’s grip on the lipstick tightened and he stuck his nail under the cap, ready to flick it off at a moment’s notice. “Prove it.”

Red Robin pulled up his tablet again and tapped a few places. An audio recording started to play.

Tucker stopped breathing when he recognized Jazz’s voice. He closed his eyes and just listened. When he heard her demand a picture and the pose she asked for, he huffed out a laugh.

The recording ended and he slid the lipstick back into his pocket and wiped at his eyes.

“Okay, I believe you. What’s the plan?”

“Right now we want to make sure you, Jazz, and Sam are safe and find out as much information as we can.”

Tucker nodded. “I’m not as closely watched as Jazz. The school keeps close track of us students and the Guys in White rely on their records. Though they do have an agent stationed in admin who checks up on me at least once a week. I don’t keep my most sensitive belongings in this dorm as it’s searched every other week.”

Red Robin grinned at him. It sent shivers down Tucker’s back. “Does that mean your real stuff is kept somewhere else?”

Tucker smirked. “Of course. Cover yourselves back up; we need to go.”

Red Robin did something with his jammer and EMP and then began talking excitedly about the horror club again. “So glad you’ve agreed to come to our next meeting, Tucker! We’ve been trying to build the club.”

Superboy winked at him. “What do you say we get to know each other a bit before then? Want to come play video games with us?”

Tucker bit his lip and looked towards his desk and laptop as if he were undecided. “I should get back to my homework…”

“Oh, come on, it’ll still be there tomorrow,” said Red Robin. “Let’s go.” He looked back down at his tablet and headed towards the door, grabbing Tucker’s hand as he did.

Tucker looked over his shoulder one last time, but let himself be pulled along. They kept conversation light as they exited the building. Red Robin was an expert at angling his baseball cap to hide his masked face from every camera they passed.

Would he be willing to teach Tucker how to do that?

Once outside, Tucker took the lead. One of the first things he’d done after he’d been enrolled was memorize blueprints for every building on campus. On top of that, he’d made himself a good dozen different IDs. Three of those were copies of other students’. Those students he kept close track of to make sure their records didn’t show them in two places at once. Other ones belonged to various faculty and staff members. But his pride and joy was the one that belonged to Gabriel Carter. Gabriel was a janitor at the Academy and so could access any building. Gabriel also didn’t exist.

It was Gabriel’s ID that got them access to the basement level of one of the buildings. Hidden deep in the building was a set of rooms currently not in use. And in one of those rooms was a closet.

Tucker had built the locks on the door himself and, even having all the keys and codes, it took five minutes to get in.

He smirked when Red Robin himself let out a gasp of surprise at his set up.

-----

Hope you enjoyed!

Now, how did Kon get involved? Easy. Tim used the zeta tube from the cave to Titans Tower. Kon happened to be there. When Tim said he was working a case with Red Hood, the guy who tried to kill him once, Kon insisted on coming along. I debated having other members of the Young Justice, but I'm actually trying to keep character counts down for this one, so...

Check out the subscription post if you want a notification when I update!

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: April 3rd, 2024 🎀

Today was a weird day. My anxiety was off the walls, and I think it's because that time of the month decided to occur, which is throwing me way off. Birth control has made that not happen for 2 years so, I was definitely caught off guard. (omg I hope that's not tmi, it's just something I gotta deal with again as a woman)

🩷 What I Accomplished Today:

Reviewed Spanish Busuu Chapters 6 and 7

Reviewed all flashcards once fully through

listened to one podcast episode in spanish

completed question set about renal nutrition from my dietitian mentor

met with an advisor regarding adding a 2nd major in finance

met with my advisor and got some good advice before adding the 2nd major

emailed the director of the Dietetic program at my college to schedule a meeting

wrote chemistry notes (need to finish and catch up with this week - I've missed both lectures)

completed a chemistry homework assignment

planned tasks for tomorrow

met with dietitian mentor

scrubbed my toilet clean

🩷 Good Things That Happened:

got an extension on my chem lab report

got confirmation of taking a make up quiz for my psyc class

took an hour nap

got excused from lecture and lab today (going to make it up tomorrow)

met most of my goal tasks

my meetings with the advisors went really well

got to talk to my dad per usual, and he was supportive of the 2nd major stuff

my boyfriend was supportive of my 2nd major stuff

met a super cute blue heeler puppy that was so cute and friendly, tho she did cut my thumb slightly but it's okay cause she's just a puppy

got 7k steps in today

🩷 What Could've Been Better:

could've managed my anxiety a bit better

could've been more productive instead of doing my "productive procrastination"

need to stop trying to do academic things while sitting in bed

need to stop trying to stay awake when I randomly wake up at 4am

need to drink more water, for sure

need to work on better nutrition

Today was a weird day. But that's okay. Weird days do happen. I know now what made it weird, and I'll adapt.

Til next time lovelies 🩷

[ostrichmonkey-games]

Ostrichmonkey Hack: Layout Behind the Scenes

Been procrastinating on this enough! So here is a look at some of the process and decisions that went into doing the layout for the Ostrichmonkey Hack.

Let's start with the goals I had in mind:

Keep it simple.

Keep it easy to make.

With those goals set, next step is gathering materials and resources (not all of this was done as cleanly as I'm making it out to be, but this is the gist).

Materials used:

Classic Explorer Template

Affinity Publisher and Photo

Fonts

Art

The text itself

The Classic Explorer Template was critical in getting this layout done efficiently, since it does a lot of the work for you. It's not a replacement for having a rough idea on how to do layout, but it can serve as a nice tutorial/explainer on different elements of layout and typesetting, and honestly, is worth its (digital) weight in gold. There's a free version available if you want to check out what it offers.

I use the Affinity Suite for my layout work. It's a nice set of programs with a manageable learning curve, but there are plenty of other alternatives so go with whatever works for you (one of my favorite elements of using multiple Affinity programs is that within Publisher, you can access both Designer (vector illustration) and Photo (photo editing, illustration etc) functions, which is just a nice workflow).

Here's what my setup looks like, with all the guidelines/base grid stuff turned on;

Normally I start with some style tests and “sketches” to get a feel for what I want the layout to look like, but the Classic Explorer’s does a lot of that heavy lifting for me already so I get to skip this step for this project. Speed and efficiency is one of the main reasons I wanted to use the template - this was envisioned as a “I just need to get something done” kind of project.

So next up on getting it done, fonts!

There are lots of great places to get fonts from, just make sure you're getting them from legitimate sources. Do your homework and make sure that "free" font is actually free to use in commercial projects.

I pulled three fonts from the depths of my collection.

One for the title and main headers (Wallau Deutsch)

One for the second header (Rakkas)

One for the body text (PT Serif)

Technically a secret fourth font for some "bullet points" (1651 Alchemy)

I picked these fonts out because they work together well and are readable. The title/main header fonts are comparatively less readable, but you can get away with that since headers are Big and used less frequently. The second header (Rakkas) is a nice middle ground between a full on blackletter font like the main header, and the classic-y serif of the body text. It creates a transition between the two fonts.

I used PT Serif since it was already in the template, but it also had the bold/italics versions I knew I would need, is readable at a variety of sizes, and had all the special glyphs I would need (it actually did not, but whoops, we'll get to that later).

Normally when I start layout, I do a quick "sketch page" where I try out different fonts and style tests that can look something like this;

But that wasn't necessary for this project (another advantage of the using the template).

Now, let's get to some choices in formatting the text itself.

Each time a key term came up, it was highlighted by bolding and italicizing it. Any time after that, it was just normal text. I went back and forth on highlighting it every single time, but the current format just looked cleaner so it won out.

Additionally, in several places in the text, rather than introducing a third header (which just broke up the page too much, disrupting the flow and clean look), I instead put what would have been the new third header (HP or WOUNDS in the above example) in all caps and behind a colon. This ended up not disrupting the text too much, and was only necessary a handful of times. But when it was necessary, I made sure to stay consistent. Consistent and organized formatting is one of the key ways to make your layout look nice and clean.

Aside from changing some font choices, one of the other ways I tweaked the template was with some spacing (between "sections", like in the above text, introducing an extra line break between the Attributes and Staying Alive sections) and the "bullet points".

The large bullet points that accompany the second headers are actually a glyph pulled from a different font. I picked that one out specifically because its just a little irregular and handwritten looking (1651 Alchemy is a handwritten styled font), and it also helped pull you to the start of new sections, further enhancing the second header. It helps make each section discrete and more "modular".

Back to extra spacing for a second now. So each "chapter" of the text uses the main header to designate it as a full "chapter".

"Characters" up top there is one of those chapter headers. It's nice and big and special, and also takes up a good chunk of space. One a full spread, this also means that the second page of text begins higher up than the text on the first page (compare where Attributes starts vs where Dying starts).

I played around with the format of spreads that did not have a main chapter header on them, starting the first page text up toward the top to have it line up with the second page. Which, probably would have been totally fine, but I preferred the look when each spread had the same kind of spacing. But repeating the main header on each spread was too clunky. So the solution;

Bam! A line!

Blank empty space looked too empty, but slapping a quick line there took up just enough visual space for it to work. Then, I carried that line-design-language to other places (to separate footnotes from the body text, within the tables, and sort of on the cover). This then made the line choice feel even more cohesive and purposeful.

And speaking of footnotes, that was another extra tweak/flourish I added not present in the template (the sidebars are part of the template, but sidebars rule so they would have happened regardless). The footnotes served as a way to share specific references as an informal "works cited". A lot of NSR/OSR design is super iterative, so I thought it would be cool to shout out some of the more direct inspirations and references I used when making my game.

But the footnotes were also kind of not really my downfall. Turns out PT Serif didn't seem to have all the necessary footnote glyphs, nor did it want to make proper superscripts of integers past 3. So, rather than trying to find a new body font (or deal with the headache of using a font solely for superscript notation), I just fudged the formatting some and stuck to asterisks, and restarting "numbering" on each spread. Oh well.

Let's now briefly touch on laying out tables.

It sucks.

My advice is find an example of a really nice looking table and then try and figure out what makes it look nice, and then doing that forever. Luckily, the template saves me again by including multiple examples of tables, ripe for tweaking. Which ended up looking like this;

Nice and clean! Hooray!

Okay, there's a lot of small decisions that goes into making text properly formatted and look nice, but I skipped some of those decisions and didn't go ham on typesetting, but whatever. That all about covers the important parts regarding the text. Now let's talk about art.

Public domain art is your best friend.

I went and trawled through a bunch of art I've saved from the Met's Open Access collection (there's plenty of great open access collections out there, just happened to have some from the Met handy), and settled on this piece;

Which I then dropped into Affinity Photo and played around until I ended up with this;

Nothing too wild, but it Felt Right, so it's done.

I then immediately dropped that onto the cover page, slapped the title on, added a quick border (and also spent some time trying to fix some weird issues that ended up being solved by just rasterizing it, whoops) and bam;

And that's the only art piece used throughout the zine! But I made the most out of it. Between each chapter, I had a single splash page and dropped in different zoomed/cropped versions of the art. Like so (and even on the back cover!);

The original image was high resolution, so zooming in worked, plus the effects/distortions I created hid any imperfections.

So that's the art sorted and the zine finished!

Now, this is getting pretty long, so if there's anything anyone reading this is interested that I didn't touch on, shout in the notes!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for deleting my classmate's online output in retaliation for previous grievances, & WIBTA if I kept this up?

📚🧪🗑️

(↑ so I know Tumblr didn't toss it into the void)

Take your time reading this before the poll. Trust me, everything matters.

I (16NB) am a student that migrated from the regular 10th grade sections into the top section of my school's STEM program via passing the admission test. I'm part of the very few that made it from the regular sections into such a prestigious senior high strand (which had only 3 sections and ±30 students per section), and the rest of my classmates and batchmates come from specialized programs that they were in since 7th grade. Naturally, they don't know me, and wouldn't think much of me due to my previously "mediocre" background. But really, I was only able to join the STEM strand this year because of financial difficulties during the lockdowns, so my parents could only afford to put me through the regular sections from grades 8 to 10.

Amongst my specialized program classmates was this girl, who I will call V for anonymity. V (16F) struck me as aloof and reserved at first. Our class seating arrangement dictated that I sit near the window farthest from the door, and V near the room exit, so we were 3 columns and one aisle apart, and had no one-on-one interactions so far due to this.

The entire school year in my school is split into two semesters, two quarters each semester, so four quarters. In Q1, I tried signing up for the strand-exclusive club that was practically a boost for report card grades, the STEM club, and we used printed forms. I filled in my form, and V collected the forms from everyone who signed up to give to the STEM club leader. We waited a week for confirmation of our acceptance (which was our forms being given back with a red stamp and the leader's signature) and everyone except me got them back. I asked V if she received my form. "No, you didn't give me any," she had said. I was denied another form by the leader, who accused me of lying about me having already given the form.

I didn't ask for a rivalry, but I had no choice but to be wary.

In Q2, our Earth Science professor gave us a lab activity and grouped us by random. I ended up in a group with V in it. I actively participated in the activity by helping prepare the materials and answering the guide questions on the activity sheet given by our professor, but I was stumped when it came to a question that required some research. Our professor allowed us to assign someone by group to take the activity sheet home and submit a picture instead when we ran out of time, so I went to my group's chat and asked them to wait for me as I finished the answer for that particular question. It took me an hour or so before I finally got the answer. I gave the answer to my groupmates, but V said that they had already turned it in, confirmed by my other groupmates. I asked them "Why did you hurry the submission? We had plenty of time left to refine and finalize the answers." They didn't reply, and they didn't answer me when I brought it up the next day in person. I went to my professor and explained the situation, even providing screenshots of my group messages as proof, but he didn't believe me. However, he did let me write down my answer to the question I was doing research for.

By then, I suspected V had convinced them to submit the activity sheet without me, and going back to Q1, also got rid of my membership form when she had the opportunity. I think she also might have lied to the professor that I wasn't even participating in the lab activity, and damn if he was gullible enough to fall for it.

Come Q3, this current quarter. Our professor in Literature gave us homework to be submitted in Google Drive. I did mine, converted it into the required file format, and had uploaded it to the Drive folder when I came across V's output. I figured it was time she got what was coming when she ruined my reputation to the teaching staff, so I deleted it. I secured my own folder so nobody but I can edit/delete it, just in case. The next day after that, V had nothing for submission and let's just say took some hits when the professor scolded her, and I have plans to get rid of more of her future outputs since we're relying on online tools for turning in homework.

On one hand, I feel a bit bad for doing that, and in addition I'm also scared I may be caught/traced. But on the other, I felt that it was only fair that she experienced even a fraction of humiliation that I faced during Q1 and Q2.

I dunno, Tumblr, AITA for that, and WIBTA for continuing with my plans?

What are these acronyms?

[timidsketch]

I had an extremely bad experience with NOCD—a company that sells OCD treatment to clients—and a YouTuber I watch just promoted the company on their channel. So, I'm making this post to warn people about the company. I do not recommend NOCD.

The company expects you to fit into their cookie cutter therapy model as if their clients aren't all individuals with extremely diverse backgrounds. I especially do not recommend NOCD if you have more conditions than solely OCD. They do not know how to handle people who have multiple disorders and mental conditions.

The only positive I will say about NOCD, and this is a major stretch to count here, is that NOCD's website has a lot of information about different OCD subtypes. You may learn you have more OCD subtypes than you realized by reading NOCD's webpages about the disorder. Did the NOCD therapist I had actually treat me well with multiple subtypes? Absolutely not.

Keep in mind that the therapy that NOCD offers is a type of exposure therapy made for OCD. This means that if the therapy is not done correctly, there is severe likelihood of psychological harm to the client, which may worsen the client's OCD symptoms. NOCD therapists do not work with their clients on trauma either. They solely "treat" OCD. If you want more than your OCD to be treated, especially if your other mental disorders intertwine with your OCD, do not go to NOCD for therapy. You will be forced to have a separate therapist for everything else, which means paying for two therapists (and NOCD will demand multiple NOCD appointments a week as well, so you'll be doing way more therapy than what's healthy). For months until I finally cut ties with the company, I was having three therapist appointments a week, which was harmful and expensive.

To make matters worse, NOCD does not allow you to choose your own therapist. The company will assign you a therapist and hammer home that they don't want you to switch to a different person. The therapist I had was so bad that she started forcing me to look into residential treatment as "homework" instead of putting me on the waitlist for a NOCD therapist trained in PTSD, which she had promised to me that she did. She told me to keep meeting with her while I was "on the waitlist," so she was lying to me about the situation while trying to shove an intensive residential treatment option on me that I didn't need and would have harmed me even more.

NOCD ghosted me as soon as I asked about the possibility of being given a refund—such a great example of professionalism. /s And what I've written here isn't even all of the problems I had with the company. Please potect yourself. I sincerely suggest finding a therapist outside of NOCD who is trained in treating OCD specifically. That therapist will also be able to treat your trauma and other mental disorders too. You'll be saving money and not paying a horrible company to worsen your OCD symptoms. You'll also have a therapist who doesn't shove you into their company's mold and expect you to magically fit. Your therapist won't have a manager telling them what to do; your therapist will focus on what you as the client want and need.

If you need proof of my validity, I just finished my MSW degree. Therapy and trauma were main focuses of my master's degree program. Do not use NOCD.

[hardcore-jones]

Ringlight

Jonah x Listener (Featuring Elias being the best wing man)

Okay listen. Hell week is coming up VERY quickly and I've been stressed, of course I have to listen to all the Jonah audios while doing chem homework...which then turned into writing this instead of studying. I just love Jonah sm 🥹🥹

"Okay, just give me one minute, I'll be right back." Your attention was taken away from your book as Jonah emerged from his cave streaming room. His smile widened when he saw you, sprawled out on the couch in your most elegant pajamas. 

"Oh, I didn't realize you were awake already. I didn't wake you up, did I?" 

"Oh no, of course not," you bookmarked the page you were on to give Jonah your full attention. "I mean, it is after 2 pm. All the late night shifts in the world can't knock me down for a whole day." 

He chuckled, shaking his head. "If you say so. I'm gonna make some tea, you want some?" 

"Oooh, that would be nice. Do we have any biscuits?" 

"I think so, let me check." He stepped closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning away. 

You whined in protest, grabbing his jacket sleeve and pulling him towards you. He gasped in faux shock, clearly expecting you to ask for more. 

"My my, aren't you feeling insatiable today?" 

"Shush and kiss me." 

"And bossy!" He laughed as he kissed your forehead again. 

"No, not there!" 

"Alright, your Highness." 

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You held him close, feeling the stubble on his cheek with your thumb. You wished he could stay with you, but you knew he had to get back to his stream eventually. 

"Was that enough for you?" 

You tapped your chin in pretend thought. "Well, that's enough for now. But I expect a few more later!" 

Jonah rolled his eyes as he laughed. "Pinky promise I will, babe, now let me put the kettle on." 

You watched as he slipped away into the kitchen. Theoretically you could join him but... 

Eyeing the door to his streaming room, you had a better idea. 

Quietly, you tipped toed over to the door, opening it slowly to cover the sound of the squeaky hinges. The PC was the brightest thing in the room, some of the decorations and string light you had set up for him were drowned out by the lights coming from the monitors on the desk. You crept over and sat in his surprisingly very comfortable chair. 

One monitor had a game paused, the other one had a few different programs open. The chat was on one half of the screen, a few users talking amongst themselves as they waited. You realized the window open next to it showed what the chat was looking at, which currently showed a paused screen. 

Trying to decipher through the different commands listed, you tried a few before the monitor changed back to its normal view. The game was on the main screen, and you could see the back of your head in the camera as you leaned over to see the second monitor. 

xXIsmoke420Xx: he's back

LIAS_E: wait... no the hair colors all wrong

Blade_Main: yoooooo is that Y/N ??? 

CenterAtkMid: did they hijack again? XD 

You giggled to yourself reading through the chat, realizing you were successfully able to get the screen back to normal. 

"Hey guys, what are y'all up to?" 

You watched chat, leaning back into Jonah's chair. 

PickleMick: Y/N playing LOL would be hilarious 

LIAS_E: oh hes gonna be pissed lmao 

CenterAtkMid: @picklemick LMAO they'd be so lost XD 

"Oh is he playing League today, that's what LOL is, right?" You asked out loud, looking back to the first monitor. "What is this squirrel thing? Is Jonah a squirrel in this game?" 

You moved the mouse around a bit, trying to get a better look at the character on screen. 

You could see chat going by a mile a minute out of the corner of your eye, not able to see each individual message anymore. 

Behind you, you heard the door creak open, followed by a loud, dramatic gasp. 

"You! What are you doing in here, you gremlin!" 

Jonah walked in, shutting the door with his foot and setting two cups of tea down on his desk. 

You let out a maniacal giggle, spinning around in his chair to face him. "I'm the streamer now!" 

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable! I make you some tea and you pay me back by taking over like a dictator?" 

He leaned over the chair, trying to read the chat. 

"A squirrel? Why did Elias say I'm playing a squirrel?" 

You broke down into giggles again, pointing at the screen. 

"Look, you're playing as a squirrel!" 

"What, that's Yuumi! Yuumi's a cat, can't you see!" He shook the computer chair from behind you, grabbing the mouse and zooming in on the character. 

"Hey, it's not my fault the designers made it look like a squirrel!" 

Jonah let out a dramatic sigh behind you, taking a sip from his mug and shaking his head at you. 

You went back to the chat, not willing to get in a debate with him about game design (again).

LIAS_E: jonah is now a dedicated squirrel main 

Blade_Main: I cant even image Y/N trying to play lol 

"Is league of legends hard? The chat said I'd be bad at it, " 

"It's not hard but it's... " Jonah hummed to himself in thought. "Its not the gameplay I'm so worried about, it's the people who play the game. I wouldn't want you to hear what some of the players say in game." 

He nudged your mug closer to you. "Hey now, don't let this get cold." 

"Oh yeah," You took a quick sip, savoring the perfect mix of sugar and milk Jonah always managed to pull off. "Amazing as always, love." 

You didn't hear Jonah respond, and you almost turned to check whe you caught your name in chat again. 

LIAS_E: how was work, Y/N? 

"How was work? It was... Ughhh." You groaned, resting your head on your hand. "Arsenal lost pretty bad last night and the crowd got a little hectic. Luckily, my boss got a few of them to leave and the rest calmed down after that. The train was absolutely full of them too, I almost thought about just getting an Uber instead." 

PickleMick: :monkaS: 

CenterAtkMid: did anyone else see that?? 

xXIsmoke420Xx: someone clip this 

"What the heck are they talking about?" 

"Hm, what are they saying?" Jonah asked. You noticed his voice sounded further away, like he was by the door again. Checking the camera, you realized Jonah was directly behind you anymore, but stood a foot or so away, with one arm hiding behind his back. 

You turned away from the monitor and towards your boyfriend. He looked nervous for some reason, his cheeks red and a wide grin across his face. 

"Are you up to something right now?" 

"Babe," He smiled as he took one of your hands, the other one still hiding behind his back. "this isn't how I planned this but... this just feels like the right time." 

"What do you mean?" 

Jonah's other hand came back to the front, holding a little velvet box between his shakey fingers. 

"Open it," 

You could feel your heart beat a million miles an hour as you opened the box, a ring sitting perfectly on the velvet inside. 

"Jonah?" 

He laughed nervously, slowly sinking down to his knee. 

"You have no idea how happy you make me, and how much you truly mean to me. I love you so much. Will you marry me?" 

"Jonah!" You pulled him back up to his feet, holding him close to you. 

"Oh my god, are you crying? Don't cry, please!" 

"No, they're happy tears!" You let him go then, giving him free access to wipe away the tears. He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, his own eyes wet as well. 

"You still haven't answered, babe," He teased. 

"Of course I'll marry you Jonah! Do you even have to ask?" You giggled at him, standing on your tip toes to press kisses all over his face. 

Clip by LIAS_E

April XX, 20XX

Jonah leaned from behind the computer chair, pushing the mug closer to you. "Hey now, don't let this get cold." 

Making sure you were distracted for just a minute, he quickly pulled his phone out and shot a quick text to Elias, asking if he could keep you occupied for just a minute. 

He checked you weren't watching and quietly slipped out of the room for a minute. 

You took another sip of tea before noticing a question in chat directed to you. "How was work? It was... Ughhh" 

Jonah came back into the office, making sure the hinges didn't creak too loudly. Luckily you didn't notice and he knew he'd be able to pull off his risky plan. 

Silently, he came up behind the computer chair, holding up a small box close enough for the camera to see, but making sure to keep it out of your field of view. With a shaky hand, he opened it, flashing the ring to the camera for just a moment.

[ms-demeanor]

hello! i vaguely recall you doing a new year's resolution bingo thing - first, was that actually you lol? and if so, how'd it go, any adjustments you'd make from the original idea? (i did a resolution bingo this past year, which mostly ended up being a 24 item quest buffet, which did work for me! but i'm curious for more data). happy new year to you and your various sizes of bastard!

Hello! Yes, that was me. It didn't go great!

I did a resolution bingo in 2022 but it ended up feeling like homework and at a certain point in the year I looked at the spaces that I hadn't filled and it just made me feel bad.

In 2023 I did kind of a chore chart; I used a sheet of college-ruled notebook paper and divided it up into columns with things like "guitar" and "draw" and and "quilt square" and "go for a walk by myself" and numbered out 52 lines and I went through and highlighted each thing as I did it each week. That went very well for some things and not very well for others. I had at least a few columns where I did something every other week, and I totally finished the quilt square column, and I drew something for like 40 weeks, but I also had several categories that I did absolutely nothing for and several categories that had very few highlights.

That chart *also* was kind of a problem and there was a week in, like, august where my brain was being weird and was like "you can't do more of X until you've caught up on Y and Z" because I had to flip the paper over and wanted to finish three columns before I flipped it - that was clearly a very silly hangup but I don't make the rules for what my brain will freak out about and it caused a disproportionate amount of stress.

This year I kind of combined the two and I've made three sheets of paper with different tasks on different lines, and in different amounts. (And none of the papers need to be flipped over so I won't get a weird hangup week)

So instead of having 52 blanks each for "pushups" "squats" and "go for a walk by myself" I've got 156 blanks for "workout: lifting, calisthenics, stretching, walking, cardio." I didn't do a single walk by myself last year, and it turns out I'm pretty unlikely do do random squats or pushups, so rather than try to do one exercise fifty two times I'm just going to try to do *some* kind of exercise three times a week and I'm not going to feel bad about it if that's more bench press instead of more cardio.

I did pretty well with quilt squares so i've set a goal to do twice as many this year. I set a goal for 52 drawings and writing seriously 52 times. My yard is a disaster so my goal is to fill my yardwaste bin 52 times this year.

But what I *haven't* done is divide that up by week. Maybe some weeks I'll get four workouts in and other weeks I'll do two. Maybe I won't draw for a month but I'll get into it a lot over the summer.

One of my two other sheets is things that I'd like to do daily. My four daily tasks that I'm aiming for are: clean something at the house, floss, moisturize, and journal. (Journaling was successful in the bingo year but not at all last year)

The other sheet is the one that's more like the bingo, or what I think the spirit of the bingo is supposed to be. I've got it labeled "Bonus" and each thing on it has about twenty circles that I can check off if I do something but that I don't see as a goal. That includes stuff like "friend hangs" and "go someplace" - stuff that I want to do more of but that I can either plan or do spontaneously and that doesn't have a big project end goal (so it's "do something with music like program a music box or play guitar for a while" rather than "write a song" like it was the bingo year, when no song got written).

I may have also just kneecapped myself by making the bingo squares too hard. Maybe I should do a monthly bingo with smaller goals.

The bingo also got harder when I failed at bullet journaling; turns out that's not a great way for me to manage my time and attention and the bingo was in the bullet journal. Having stuff on a wall next to the light switch in my office helped a lot last year, I think, so that's where my sheets are this year too.

IDK, this is all fun to experiment with and I enjoy it but also I'm never sure if any of it "works" in terms of getting me to do more of the things that I'd like myself to do. It did work for quilt squares last year, though, and that's the best progress I've made on my quilt since I started it in 2021. And the daily chart is helping a lot so far.

But maybe I just like making charts (I do).

[thebluestbluewords]

"The council," Evie says brightly, "Is prepared to release more young VKs, on the condition that we find them appropriate foster families." 

There's a moment of absolute stillness, and then-- 

"And that's a good thing?" 

"Nope, no way--" 

"They don't even fucking trust us--" 

"Hey!" Evie shouts. "Everybody shut up. One at a time, please. Freddie, you can go first." 

All the eyes in the room swing over to Freddie Facilier, who crosses her arms over her skinny chest and scowls back at them. "Pass. I can't say anything nice right now, so I'm taking my Auradon lesson, just like they want us to do, and saying nothing at all." 

Of course. 

"Fuck's sake, Fred," Mal bites out. "You were literally just saying that they don't even fucking trust us. Finish the thought or get out." 

Freddie pushes off the wall, the whole long line of her rolling upright, from her shiny purple boots to the tip of her sleek pigtails. She looks mad, and it makes her look like her father. "I said pass, princess. We can't all pretend we love these Auradon folks when they keep coming up with new hoops for us to jump through. My baby sister's the circus freak here, and I can't even get her over without a goody-two-shoes grownup to what, adopt us both? Let them take my sister off the Isle, just to lock her up with some prissy princess family who's gonna treat her like dirt because of where she comes from? I can't just sit back and watch her go through what we did alone, and if she's locked up with some Auradon family, instead of here at school with the rest of us, she's gonna feel more alone than a mouse on main street. I'm not doing it. If they wanna make your market kids go through foster families, fine, but I'm not gonna sit here and just let it happen to my sister." 

She pushes her way towards the door, stepping through the whole mess of them, the tangle of kids and homework and jackets thrown across the floor barely impeding her path. 

"Wait." 

Freddie doesn't turn her head at the sound of Evie's voice, but she does pause, which is something. "I don't much care what you have to say, blueberry. You're the one working with them."

Mal's watching Evie's face like a goblin watches the sun, which is why she sees the flash of discomfort that flickers across the set of Evie's mouth, in the corners of her eyes, before she smooths them out into her perfect mask again ."I know. I am working with them, which is why you don't have to believe me when I say this is the best thing that could happen to us." 

Freddie turns, snapping a hand to her hip, her feet still pointing towards the door. "Talk." 

"We have an opportunity to invite families to apply for the VK foster program," Evie says, quick and smooth, like she's been rehearsing it. They sleep in the same room, in the same bed most nights, but Mal's not a member of Ben's junior court representatives, and she's only an associate for Evie's upcoming Isle project, so she's not allowed to know what goes on in the phone calls Evie has with the Bureau of Isle Affairs offices each week. An admirable commitment to Auradon standards of privacy, that's what Evie has, and it's not Mal's place to resent her for apparently rehearsing a whole speech about the VK program without asking her to listen to it even once. It's a good thing that Evie has so much moral integrity when it comes to her secret projects, that's it. There's no reason at all for Mal to feel jilted by the fact that Evie hasn't practiced this speech with her even once, even though they're girlfriends and roommates and ex-rivals. "We can hand pick the families we invite, so there's no chance of horrible people like Audrey's parents applying and making our new kid's lives a living hell." 

"Just whatever assholes can hide long enough to make it through your vetting program." 

"Yes. But--" Evie raises a hand before Freddie can jump in. "The requirements for being a foster family are flexible. The only hard requirement is that there's one adult over eighteen for each minor foster kid placed in the household." 

"We're nearly eighteen." Mal realizes. "Eves." 

"We meet the rest of the requirements too," Evie says, her eyes bright with what might be tears or her own cleverness. "Or we will, once I have my castle set up. We can take one VK for each of us." 

"Four." 

"We can get our friends on board. Jorden already said har family would do it, and Ally's working on her mom as well. Lonnie's not eligible because of her international citizenship, but she's asking all the people she trusts to ask their parents, and she has a lot of friends across all the sports teams she's been in, and the hip-hop club, and the school paper.”

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/730567395513679872/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic730187969463

I’m the anon here. I’ve heard the stuff ceerosa mentions before about “learning rules is not helpful” but I’m sorry, I think this is a “not all brains work the same” thing, because while I’ve seen that be true for others it’s never been the case for me in language learning. And I’ve done immersion programs. Learning what the patterns are, like how articles change based on case in German or based on several different things including end of the word in Haitian Creole (seriously it’s so unintuitive) is how it stuck. Just having stuff thrown at me doesn’t help. I’m autistic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s a factor; the other people I know who’ve told me they’re similar are autistic. Autistic brains process enough stuff differently I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s a factor.

But yeah, just to be clear: I’ve seen and read that research. It doesn’t change that it’s not actually true for me.

And the particular way Duolingo throws stuff at you doesn’t seem to work well for anyone, in my anecdotal experience

--

Well... I think we were talking about slightly different things.

Some students have a desire for there to be reasons for language to work how it does, and they mean reasons that make logical sense today, not just "It evolved from this other historical thing". If there's a word that's an exception, they want there to be a reason for that too that isn't "Sometimes there are exceptions, particularly among very common words. Here's a list."

And from that perspective, yeah, we need to curb that impulse because it's not helpful for how languages actually work.

But yes, the pure immersion, no explanation stuff you get with some programs is not that useful, and the research supports this. It's an idea based on a shallow understanding of how small children learn their first language rather than studying how adults acquire foreign ones.

I did a couple of famous summer language intensives, and the way they typically worked was that there was a bunch of memorization homework for the kinds of things that native speakers just say without thinking about it (e.g. "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Christmas" for Americans—there is no why, and there is no innovation, just this set phrase). We then did conversation drills, some free practice coming up with novel sentences, and listened to natural examples in most of the day's classes...

But we had one class that was in English where they laid out the grammar patterns and such very clearly. If we'd been higher level, maybe they would have explained in the target language, but we weren't, so to get us ahead faster, this part was all in English.

Brains do vary, but I'm not sure they vary that much when it comes to these parts of language learning. Some people despise practicing speaking, for example, but they'll still improve more if they're forced to do these tasks they hate than if they do ~for text study~. Another learner who hates the task less might progress faster, but they're not a categorically different type of learner.

A bigger factor is that the really hard part with language study is staying excited about it and sticking with it, so if you enjoy one style of explanation or practice more, having more of it will make you actually stick around, and I'm sure that does vary a lot by learner.

[tranquilpetrichor]

the formula for late nights

cast: gunwook (zb1) x gn biochem major!reader

wc: 722

genre: college!au

warnings: food, mentions of yn drinking sometimes to deal with stress, descriptions of food, academic pressure

a/n: eris try to make a story where yn isn't slightly unhinged challenge failed. also the two could be interpreted as having a crush on one another. now that my finals are over, hopefully i can post more

sitting on an armchair in your suite, you sigh with relief as you finish your chemistry homework. you place the little pencil back into the iPad and shut the case. the device goes back into your bag, where you hope you won't have to see it until tomorrow's class.

you're glad that you've finished your homework for the day because you're sure as hell that you cannot handle doing another problem (no more stoichiometry, please!).

your friend, park gunwook, steps into the common room of your suite and greets you. he's been over for a while, but he was busy helping someone else in the suite with math homework and hasn't bothered you since.

he'd wondered if anyone would even ask for his tutoring help, but you assured him that there would always be someone agonizing over math. hm, maybe you should try it one day (if only you had the time)..

he glances at your packed bag. "so, you're finally done suffering through chem?"

you groan, stretching your muscles. holy shit, you worked for about an hour without getting up?

"i guess. for now, at least."

he chuckles and walks over to your snack cabinets. "for now."

you're not even tall enough to reach some of the shelves on the upper cabinets without the usage of a step stool, yet he has the audacity to steal food from there sometimes.

seemingly changing his mind, he walks to the freezer instead, opening the door to peek inside. you don't bother to ask what he's looking for because you already know.

"i can say goodbye to my chocolate ice cream," you mutter.

he protests. "what? it's good. and it's not my fault we like the same flavor."

perks of having a friend with way too much of a similar taste in food, you suppose.

"i guess we could share? we do have a lot."

not even thirty seconds later, two small bowls, two spoons, and an ice cream scoop are out, the latter item present because you never want to try scooping out ice cream with a regular spoon again.

there also happens to be brownies in the fridge that another friend of yours named jiwoo brought over yesterday.

"take them," she had said, "i won't finish them all anyways."

of course you took them, because who are you to say no to offerings of food?

you find the container and give it to gunwook, who's sitting on the couch across from the tv. there's six brownies left, but you'll probably save some for later.

"oh, we forgot drinks." gunwook says. he stares at you as your lips curve into a knowing smile. "no, y/n, not the alcoholic kind. we are not asking our neighbors for soju today."

you pretend to be disappointed and laugh. "don't worry, you know i only allow myself to drink in the dorms during weekends. it's only thursday. and it's an every-other-week type of thing."

(is it from stress built up through the week? perhaps. did you choose the life of a biochem major willingly? yes, so maybe this is your fault.)

gunwook looks for some chocolate milk instead and rolls his eyes.

"not the best habit, but at least you're more responsible than some other people we know."

you shudder. having to be the parent of the group along with gunwook and help drunk friends home from frat parties is a terrible experience, but you digress. tonight is a time for staying in, occupying the couch, and sharing treats.

he calls out to you. "do you want to watch tv?"

without a second thought, you perk up and join him on the couch. he's already unfolded the blue blanket that sits there, and drapes it over both of you.

"what show?"

he's surfing through the various programs on his tv, and you seem to sink a little further into the couch.

"how about the last of us?"

you nod. "i haven't even started it yet."

(you're known in the friend group for saying "i'll watch [insert show]" and never doing it.)

he smiles and navigates over to hbo max on the screen with your remote. "i think a little brain break is well-deserved."

"couldn't agree more."

with that, you allow yourself and gunwook the luxury of another late night spent in good company with each other.

[scaly-freaks]

Literally every single headcanon idea for Feyd and the new oc, chose any you like I wanna know all of them

HMMM okay omg there were so many questions this is about to feel like HOMEWORK!!! Let me lay the ones I like out. I kinda weave my own canon in to fill out blanks from the OG canon material btw.

(i've decided to name her Eshal, it means 'flower of paradise' in Arabic and is only fitting considering the influences in Dune)

How did your muses meet?

Feyd-Rautha killed her father and dragged her by the hair back to his spaceship. Mhm. I wish I could make it more romantic. But I cannot. Eshal was on the verge of going through the spice agony when the Harkonnens arrived, and for some reason that is inexplicable to both her and her fellow sayyadina, she couldn't use the Voice even though she had the ability before. She hasn't been able to use it since she was brought onto Giedi Prime (though I guess shrieking with grief and rage as Feyd dragged her to the ship counts as a very hearty attempt).

2. How long have your muses known each other?

About two months since he took her.

3. What was the last gift your muses got for each other?

Well, you see, Feyd got her a music box. It had her mother's teeth in it. She does appreciate it, though she'd never tell him, and she definitely knows he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart. He just wanted to break her spirit, but instead, it's the one thing keeping her from suicide because she focuses on the question: who will protect my mother's teeth if I'm gone? (Her father did it before her - she has no siblings)

4. Do your muses have a 'place' that's just for the two of them?

Yes, the dungeon.

5. Do your muses want children?

Feyd is like the Baron in the sense in that he has a great deal of disgust for the Bene Gesserit breeding program. However he is fascinated by them, and it's like 'penis envy' but in reverse (whatever that's called). I think if it came to it, he'd come round to the idea of an heir, though we better keep that little mf away from him if it's a boy because he's definitely the kind of father who'd be overly competitive with a son.

Eshal would rather cut out her own tongue than consider having a child outside of the breeding program (this may or may not change).

6. Do your muses want to get married?

No.

7. Do your muses have any pets together?

Feyd has his harpy pets. Eshal can share them I suppose.

8. What do your muses do for fun together?

One tortures the other. The other screams. And then occasionally pisses themselves and starts laughing deliriously.

9. Which one of your muses is more affectionate?

An anaconda is more affectionate than either of them.

10. Who's most likely to apologise first after an argument?

Argument? What argument?

11. What was your muses first impression of each other?

Feyd thought she was very pretty in the way a deer is very pretty just before you shoot and kill it. The deers on Giedi Prime have poison tongues though, so if one gets you just before you get it, it's over for both of you.

Eshal thought he was bald and barbaric as fuck. Her opinion hasn't changed.

12. What is one word that would describe your muses relation?

Demonic.

13. What is your muse's sex life like? How frequent? What are they into?

*awkward laugh* Not with each other...but uhhhh...well, I'm guessing since Eshal hasn't been admitted into any kind of Bene Gesserit breeding program yet, she's still a virgin (?) I don't know if they're allowed to have sex recreationally outside of their assigned penis-havers.

Feyd fucks. Like everyday. Doggy position is his favourite. He doesn't like eye contact until it's on his own terms, and he doesn't like any kind of intimacy that involves being reminded the person he's fucking is also a human being. Hence the doggy position where he doesn't have to see their face. I also headcanon that he's into CNC/Bloodplay/Asphyxiation/Humiliation/Degradation all that stuff, ya know? He's also massively into Fearplay. If you don't know what that is...get acquainted.

14. Do your muses have a 'song' that's just for them?

No, but I have some for them.

[invisibleraven]

Keeping Spirits Bright

Day 15: Present + Double Trouble <=AO3

Once Flynn and Julie enter elementary school, they are faced with a problem; none of their parents are able to be home to meet them in the afternoons. Flynn’s parents have never been able to-they have steady jobs, so she usually got the bus home with Julie. But now Rose has more students and Ray earned a big contract that will keep him on sets well into the evening. Julie argues they are totally old enough to be left home alone-they know not to touch the oven, to keep the doors locked, and to not pig out on junk food. 

“Unfortunately mija , the law says that I can’t leave you alone until you’re thirteen,” Rose replied. “Which you still have a few years left to reach. So I am going to sign you up for the afterschool program” 

“Awww mami no!” Julie whined. 

“It’s just for an hour or so, just so I can finish my lessons, and then I’ll be there to pick up both you girls.” 

“Both?” 

“Well Marisol and Xavier already signed Flynn up, I figure she would have told you. So at least you two won’t be separated.” 

Julie pouted, but relented-for one she didn’t have much choice, for two, she couldn’t let Flynn endure the program alone. What kind of best friend would that make her? Plus her mom told her once she was old enough to be home alone, she was old enough to babysit Carlos, and Julie was in no hurry to be given that responsibility. 

So the next Monday after class, instead of running to the bus, or even out the door to walk-she and Flynn trudged off to the library, off with the other kids whose parents couldn’t pick them up as soon as the bell rang. It was rather sad looking, seeing all the neglected children finding seats around the tables. 

They weren’t allowed snacks-a major bummer. But at least they could talk, though the head librarian, Mrs. Simmons did not look happy about it. They were encouraged to study, do homework, or just get a book. There were no games or toys set out, and the few supplies were pretty dismal. 

“What are we supposed to do with twine?” Flynn asked. 

“Make bracelets?” Julie suggested. “There’s at least a few colours here. Could be fun?” 

Flynn sighed, and agreed, though they first had to find a book showing them how to craft them, they caught on quickly. Twisting and braiding the strings together, adding beads and flourishes when they got good. 

Each day they would make one another a new bracelet, until their arms were adorned with them, a swathe of glorious colours and a physical representation of good times spent together. Making the most of a bad situation-it was what they were best at. 

However, the library was now out of string, and it was barely October. 

“Now what?” Julie asked. 

“We bring our own stuff and make more of course,” replied Flynn. “And sell ‘em!” 

Even then Flynn’s entrepreneurial spirit was strong. Her parents didn’t believe in giving her allowance, so she had to find ways to raise money to buy the things she wanted-soda mostly, since her parents also didn’t believe in sugar. Julie was just along for the ride, and through every lemonade stand, yard sale, and hairbrained scheme, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Plus she usually ended up getting some of their take herself, saving up for the shiny new keyboard her parents had deemed too expensive for right now. 

“I don’t know if I have any of this kinda stuff,” Julie admitted. “But I think I could convince mami to bring us to the dollar store, we could get the supplies cheap.” 

The dollar store was always a treasure trove-full of fun little accessories, craft supplies, and even snacks the girls could get with their own money. Sure most of it was cheap quality, but you got what you paid for right? Still, neither of them wanted to dip into their meagre funds to go to a legit craft store-especially since Rose would definitely have questions enough when all they bought was colourful yarn and beads. 

So the next week they went into production-at first seeing if anyone in the program wanted to buy a bracelet or five. That got shut down by Mrs. Simmons fairly quickly, but they were still allowed to make the bracelets-as long as it wasn’t for profit. Julie was sure Flynn had her fingers crossed when she agreed to those terms. 

Especially since come December they had such an amount Flynn declared they could adorn half the school and be flush come Christmas time. 

“How are we going to do that?” Julie asked. 

“Easy, word of mouth,” Flynn replied. 

That’s where Carrie came in-she had been given a few of the bracelets, even made a few during sleepovers, but since she had classes right after school she hadn’t really been involved. Now she spread word that if anyone wanted one-not as nice as hers, mind you, but still nice, to find Flynn and Julie under the monkey bars. 

This repeated all week, every time in a different location so the teacher on duty wouldn’t catch on and try to break them up. 

“We’re rich!” Flynn declared with glee. 

“Well I mean we did spend a lot on supplies,” Julie replied. “So we probably broke even, but you know math is my worst subject.” 

“Who cares? We have cash and it means we can get really good presents for everyone this year!” Flynn exclaimed. 

“I’d be happy not having to make any more bracelets,” Julie joked. 

“Well then what are we gonna do after school in January?” Flynn asked. “Study?” 

“I was thinking maybe we could start writing a song?’ Julie suggested. “Double Trouble isn’t going to be much of a band if we don’t have any songs.” 

“Only if you wear the shirt,” Flynn bargained. 

“Fiiiiine,” Julie sighed, but she was smiling. She really didn’t mind the shirt-it matched the first bracelets she and Flynn made each other after all; the ones with their names added together to equal their band name, and what she was sure would not only be a kick ass band, but a lifelong friendship. After all, they had the merch to prove it.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

:)

(almost) 258 for 📖 (x2 for the other ask)

---

Buck doesn’t really know what to do. He doesn’t know how to be. This isn’t… This isn’t his strong suit. 

It might have been. He almost got there. With Abby. When her mother died, Buck had been all in. He tried to comfort her. Was there for whatever she needed, twenty-four seven. Helped with the funeral. All of it. But he supposes, now, that it wasn’t enough. 

He’s never known how to be enough. 

“Uh,” Buck mumbles now, watching Eddie. Who he doesn’t owe anything. Who isn’t expecting him to be anything at all. “Let me know if there’s any extra support I can offer to Chris, okay?”

Eddie nods. “Thanks, man.”

And that’s it.

He doesn’t see a lot more of Eddie Diaz that year. 

2020

ix.

“Okay, you ready for the study questions?” Buck asks. 

“Yes!” Chris replies confidently. 

“The Statue of Liberty was a gift to the United States from which country?” 

“France!” Chris answers. 

“Nice,” Buck praises.  “Independence Day commemorates what event?” 

“The Declaration of Independence,” Chris says. “Duh.” 

Buck smirks. “Correct. In what year did the Civil War begin?”

“Uh… 1860?”

“Not quite,” Buck says. “Close though.”

“1861!”

“Did you actually know that or was it the next easiest guess?” Buck asks skeptically.

“Well, was it right?” Chris asks cheekily. 

“It was…”

“So I knew,” Chris says. 

Buck chuckles. “You’re trouble. But, trouble that’s ready for his American history quiz.”

“Yes!” Chris cheers. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Chris is still coming to the library several times a week. Buck has gotten pretty familiar with his classes and homework. He helps Chris more than any other kid. Not because Chris necessarily needs more help or isn’t getting it elsewhere. That’s not it. Just… They kind of have a good thing going. Buck understands how Chris learns best, and he has fun helping him research. From the fourth grade equivalent of a book report, to a science project on bugs, and now, for basic American history. 

Today, they’ve got extra time. It’s over half an hour after Eddie or Carla - or occasionally Christopher’s aunt, Pepa - comes to pick him up. Most of the other kids have gone home. No one has come for Christopher.

“Hey, Chris, who is coming to get you tonight?” Buck asks as Chris cleans up his history workbook. 

“My dad,” Chris says. “After work.”

Ah, okay. Firefighter shifts can be unpredictable, Buck has learned. You don’t just clock out in the middle of an emergency because your shift is over. You wait it out. Unlike the library. Which is closing soon. 

“He’s probably just stuck at a fire, huh?” Buck asks.

“Or a car accident or medical emergency,” Chris recites dutifully. 

“Alright, well we can be patient,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Can I read some comic books instead of homework?”

“Of course you can!” Buck says. “Homework help hour is over.”

Another half hour passes, and it’s time for Buck to close up the library. Chris is the only visitor left in the building besides Jackie. Jackie is an older lady who does puzzle books on the couch of the front foyer several hours a day without fail. She comes to a lot of the library’s special programming too. The kind that isn’t for families and kids, like author talks and craft nights. She’s pretty sweet, and always heads out as soon as Buck starts closing shop. Buck gives her a little wave, and she tells him to have a good night.

“See you tomorrow, Jackie!” He calls as she leaves. 

Buck gives it ten more minutes. Watches Chris reading comics in the kids’ section. Eddie still doesn’t show up. It’s dark outside. Rainy. Buck has heard thunder at least twice. He starts to get worried. 

He logs back onto the library admin computer and looks up Eddie’s number. He calls from his personal cell. It goes to voicemail. 

“Hey, Eddie. This is Buck. Uh, the librarian. You know who I am. Anyway, the library is closing and I’ve got Chris here with me. Just hoping to get an update on your ETA. Thanks.”

A few minutes pass. Eddie doesn’t return his call. He tries Carla. She doesn’t answer either. Buck doesn’t have Pepa’s number. This isn’t good. 

“Buck,” Christopher approaches the desk quietly. “Is my dad going to be here soon? I’m hungry.”

Yeah, so is Buck. It’s definitely past dinnertime. 

“I, uh… I haven’t heard from him.” Buck admits. “But let me make one more call and see what I can do, okay? Maybe I can order us some takeout.”

“Okay,” Chris mumbles. His voice is missing its usual spark of joy. He’s scared. Buck understands why.

But Buck has one more option. He doesn’t have Chimney’s phone number, so he steps away from Christopher for privacy, and calls his sister. 

“Evan?” Maddie picks up after two rings. “I’m on break. What’s up?”

“Hey, can you send me Chimney’s number? Or, like, call him for me?”

“Sure, but he’s working. He won’t pick up for a while. Why?” 

“Well, I’m here with Eddie’s son,” Buck explains. “The library is closing and no one has come to pick him up.”

“Oh, shoot. No one came? I guess that means you haven’t heard.” 

Buck’s stomach drops. “Heard what?”

“The call Chim and Eddie’s firehouse is at… It went kind of bad… It’s on the news.”

“H-how bad?” Buck asks.

“Well…” Maddie sounds nervous. “I don’t know for sure what’s going on. But I think…” 

“What, Maddie?” Buck presses.

“One of them, not Chimney, is trapped underground. I saw Chim being extracted on the news, rescuing a kid. There was a mudslide… It could be Eddie.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Buck says. Library language be damned. 

“Yeah…”  Maddie sighs. 

“Okay, listen…” Buck groans. “I can’t get in touch with any of Christopher’s approved pickup people. There are procedures for this, and I don’t like them. So… I’m going to break the rules.”

“What do you mean?” Maddie asks.

“I’m going to take Chris to grab dinner, and then I’ll drive him to the firehouse. Can you tell Chimney to tell Eddie? And update me if anything else happens?”

“Are you going to get in trouble?” Maddie asks.

“Only if Eddie files a complaint.”

📖

“So something is wrong with my dad,” Chris says, over a McDonald’s dinner. Buck could have probably done better than this; but he had no time to prepare and it’s not like anyone has ever taught him to cook. 

“Why do you say that?” Buck asks. 

“Because if he was just running late, he would have called you,” Chris explains.

Buck takes a sip of his Coke. He doesn’t know how to handle this. This kid lost his mother not even a full year ago. He’s probably terrified of losing his dad, too. 

“Well, okay, Chris… Something is going on.”

Chris pauses, midway through reaching for a chicken nugget. 

“What is it?” Chris asks. 

“Well, you know how my sister works for 9-1-1?” Buck asks.

Chris nods. 

“She says that your dad’s firehouse responded to a pretty scary call,” Buck explains. “So he’s out there being a brave hero right now. And that might take a while.”

Chris sighs. “Okay.”

“Are you still okay to hang out with me until we hear from him?” Buck asks.

Chris nods. “Yeah. Thank you for the Happy Meal.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” Buck says. 

📖

He gets the call from Chimney an hour later. They’re in the car, driving to the fire station. 

“Hey, man. Maddie says you have Christopher?” Chimney says when Buck answers the phone.

“Yeah, I do. Uh, you’re on speaker. I’m driving to you. Chris is in the backseat. He can hear you, okay?”

“Uh, okay. Hey, Chris. How’s it going, buddy?” 

“It’s good. Buck bought me chicken nuggets,” Chris says.

“Oh, that’s great, kid,” Chim replies.

“Uh, so, h-how is Eddie?” Buck interjects.

Chim takes a moment to reply. 

“Well, listen. He’s okay. But it was a hard call. And Eddie… Your dad, Chris, he was… He was underground for longer than we would have liked. He had some trouble getting out. So he’s pretty cold and a little banged up. But he’s gonna be just fine.”

Buck feels a wave of relief.

“That’s great, Chim,” he exhales. “Thanks, man. We’re on our way. We cool to stop by the firehouse?”

“Yeah. We’re on our way back, too. I think Eddie would really like to see Chris.” 

“I want to see my dad!” Chris exclaims. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Buck promises.