#do vegetables count as objects??? I think they do

[huntersapprentice]

day 16: objecthead technically an objecthead?? wahh

head full of bedazzle and doodads

[inbabylontheywept]

How does one contract scurvy from eating too many homemade pickles? And how many is too many?

when i first moved out and started cooking for myself i had a very poor diet. i think @lizardho has a picture of my fridge at one point, it was just various kinds of pickled things, and cured meats.

fast forward after like, three or four months of this, and i was at the dentist, getting my teeth cleaned, when the hygenist went ah, babs, your gums are bleeding. u need to floss more.

and i went i floss like, three times a day, and it always bleeds, and im always gentle, and you are lying bastard gum torturers. u can do what u need to, but dont stab my mouth and blame me when it bleeds.

the hygenist took exception to that. we didn't really shout at each other, but it was a tense exchange and i was just much more crabby than normal. eventually he left to get the dentist to sort things out.

cue the dentist coming back. he checked out my gums, gave me a lookover, then said hey. babs. are your joints kind of achey?

and i went yeah, i'm kind of hoping for another growth spurt, i'm 5'11 and it would be nice to finally hit the ol' 6'

and he went yeah, but you're 21, so that's not gonna happen. got any rashes? weird bruises?

and i had some decent bruises, and a weird rash on my leg, and he looked at them and we yeah you are quite vitamin c deficient. thats not easy to do in arizona. how much fresh fruit or vegetables have you had in your diet recently?

and i went does pickled count?

and that was his lightbulb moment. apparently pickling breaks down the vitamin c in things really well. he told me that i should just like, eat one or two raw bell peppers a day for a week and call him if that worked.

it did. my gums stopped bleeding, and my knees stopped hurting at night and my skin just felt smoother and nicer and i got a lot less crabby. no more mouthing off at dental hygenists.

i called him when the week was done, and i was embarrassed that i'd given myself scurvy like it was still the 18th century, and he said naw, not scurvy, but like. noticable deficiency. he said that it was a weird problem, but he'd run into it before - mostly with college students fresh out of the house. people trying to live off peanut butter and ramen for a few months at a time.

i took a multivitamin after that, but i also made an effort to try and eat like a normal human being. i failed occasionally but the effort made me feel a lot better.

my time in cross country gave me this sort of gnostic-feeling about my body. like it was a weak thing that i needed to overcome through will, and not like. me. at least not actually me. i think this was my first big wake up call that no, the body is not my enemy, i am my body, i am a physical object in this world, and if i don't take care of myself i am going to be worse at everything, including moral tasks, like not being a dick to the dental hygenist.

so. yeah. tldr, please don't spend months trying to live off pickles and salami. :/

[azsazz]

Growing Pains

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Will we ever get more info of how Az was during readers pregnancy with each baby(I really want to see his reaction when he found out you were having a girl for the first time),Just asking ;)))))

AKA: Snippets of Azriel's family growing.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3117

_________________________________________

Wren:

“Azriel, I’m fine,” you insist, though your back aches as you try to pick up the kitchen towel that had accidentally fallen to the ground. You have no idea how you’re going to pick it up. You can’t bend over like you used to, not with your full, round belly in the way. “I still have an entire month, and then some.”

Rhys has decided to send your mate on a mission. He’d argued vehemently, asking the High Lord to send one of his spies instead, but Rhys had been adamant Azriel was the one to go. Why, you’re not sure. Azriel hasn’t divulged that information, not wanting to worry you.

What he doesn’t know is that it only worries you more.

“Love, you can’t even pick up the towel,” he argues, sliding around the counter to pluck it from the ground. You sigh, setting your hip on the counter, but it does little to ease your muscles. What you really want to do is sit down and not get up until the babe arrives.

“I don’t need to pick it up,” you argue. “I was just doing it to be nice since I know how tidy you like the house.”

Azriel raises a brow. “So you didn’t need it for anything?”

“No.”

“And what would you have done with it if I weren’t here?” he teases. “Left it on the floor?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I could’ve just gotten a new one from the linen closet.”

“That,” Azriel steps in front of you, swooping down to peck a soft kiss to your lips. You melt into him immediately, falling into his warm embrace. His hands come to the base of your spine to knead at the tight muscles there and you sigh in pleasure. Those shadows must have told him about your tender back. They can be useful, sometimes. “Sounds like it would’ve been a good idea.”

You hum in response, lost to your mate’s touch. He’s a godsend, this one. The cauldron picked perfectly. “I still don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Azriel soothes. “It will make me feel better about leaving you though, love. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone.”

You don’t want that, either. Don’t want him distracted while he’s on a mission.

“Okay,” you give in when he kneads against a particularly tight knot in your spine. Gods, those hands…you could take him right to bed, maybe even convince your mate to give you a full body massage instead. Yes, that would be nice. “Cassian can stay.”

You refuse to move to the House of Wind. You’d rather be comfortable in your own home, especially since you’ve just begun nesting. Hence, the towel on the floor. Weirdly enough, you wanted that very piece for part of your nest because of all of the times you’ve seen it in Azriel’s hands, twisting it aimlessly between his fingers while conversing while he cooks, thrown over his shoulder while he slices and dices fruits and vegetables. Strange, but you haven’t stopped thinking about it since you felt the urge to collect objects from around your home to comfort yourself with.

So, if Azriel wants you to have a babysitter while he’s gone, the babysitter can join you here.

“Cassian’s going to have the best time rubbing my feet and making me breakfast,” you smile, thinking of all of the things you know you can get your mates best friend to do for you. You know he’ll do it without compliant, because he’s secretly trying to get you to name your first born after him.

Not happening.

“Give him hell, love.”

Basil:

“He wants cake, the baby wants cake,” you defend, stuffing another bite of cake into your mouth. “The baby wants the cake.”

Azriel huffs a laugh, more than amused at your sweet tooth during your second pregnancy. It’s been difficult to get you to eat anything that isn’t coated in chocolate or pumped full of sugar.

Wren, nearing a year old, giggles in his father’s lap. He reaches his hand across the table to your plate, eager to share in the sugary goodness. You lick the icing from your lips and scoot your plate closer to his grabby hands, more than happy to share your treat with your son.

You’re surprised your mate, who has an insane sweet tooth of his own, isn’t getting in on this cake. It’s delicious, the icing creamy and fluffy. The cake is moist, and the moan you let out when you bit into it was almost one you’d be embarrassed about, if you were paying attention to anything other than the dessert.

He’s been letting you eat your fill before even attempting a bite, more so because only a few weeks ago, he’d eaten the last macron, the one you’d been saving for a midnight snack. This babe did not want you to sleep, kicking and squirming inside of you nonstop, more than eager to meet the world. You’d burst into a fit of tears when you noticed your treat was gone, and couldn’t reign in your emotions until Azriel had come home with more than half of the pastries in the case from your favorite shop. Elain even threw in some of her freshly baked pastries after hearing what happened, and you almost lost yourself to another fit of tears at how nice that was of her.

“We’re supposed to be choosing a cake for Wren’s first birthday,” Azriel reminds you gently. Then, teasingly, he says, “Have you even actually tasted the cake with how quickly you’re eating, love?”

You peg him with a look, swallowing down the bite of cake in your mouth. He’s right, this is about Wren, not the baby inside of you who only seems to wiggle around more with a sugar high.

It’s difficult to place the fork down in front of you, but somehow, you manage. You turn toward your son, who hasn’t seemed to notice the way you’d been sampling all of the cakes in front of you. By sampling, you mean inhaling. You’d been inhaling the cake samples in front of you. All seven flavors.  

“Wrenny,” you ask the boy currently mashing a bite of cake onto a napkin. He’s enthralled in the texture, and doesn’t even notice your grimace at the ruined treat.

Azriel slips his hand into yours in comfort.

“What kind of cake do you want for your birthday, baby?” You ask, grabbing a fresh napkin to help him clean up. He protests with a shout, squirming on his father’s lap. Azriel tries his best to soothe the boy, but you’ve disturbed his playtime, and you’re going to pay.

“Come on, buddy,” Azriel smooths the furrow between Wren’s brows. You sit back in your seat, smoothing your hands across your stomach when your son kicks close to your bladder. It’s only a matter of time before he hits his mark, and then your day out at the Rainbow with your mate and son will be over. “Which one do you like best?”

Wren stares at the cakes. Some more gone than others. He reaches for a red cake that’s almost entirely full. You liked that one, but it wasn’t better than the chocolate slice with chocolate frosting. That one only has a small bite left.

Your son grabs a handful of the cake and flings his arms around in excitement. You plant a hand over your mouth as the cake goes flying, only to land in Azriel’s hair. Your shoulders shake with laugher, tears welling in your eyes at the look on your mates face.

Azriel’s grin is blinding. He laughs freely, something he might not have been comfortable doing in public years ago. This, this is all he’s ever wanted. You. A family. A life.

You help your mate rid the cake form his dark locks as much as you can. Frosting sticks to the strands, pulling them this way and that. You swipe at a glob of icing that made its way above his lip, and he stares at you with simmering eyes. The kind of eyes that got you into this situation in the first place. He’s going to need a shower when he gets home, and, if you can put Wren down for a nap, maybe you can join him, too.

When you’ve successfully cleaned as much of Azriel as you can, he plops your son down into your lap and shoves the pile of napkins closer to you before standing.

“Where are you going?” you ask as Wren reaches out for his father. You snag a napkin and his chubby arm, beginning to clean him up.

“I’m going to tip the staff for the mess we made,” he says easily. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and something more, something you can’t wait to get home to. “And I’m going to buy a chocolate cake to bring home with us, since you liked it so much.” He nods to the nearly gone slice on the table, and your heart swells in your chest. You love him so, so much.

Zuzu:

“It’s a girl?” he whispers, voice raw with emotion. Tears flood your eyes at the utter awe in your mate’s eyes. Of course, she has her father wrapped around her finger already.

Azriel places his hands across your stomach. He’s kneeling in front of you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so vulnerable, not even when he admitted he loved you for the first time, nor when you gave birth to your first and second child. But this little girl growing inside of you, she’s unlocked something special inside of Azriel, and you know that in this moment, that she’s going to have the most loving, protective father there is. And you’re sure her brothers won’t be far behind with that mentality.

She’s the first female born into one of the Inner Circle’s families. Four boys, but not a single girl. And now, everything has changed. You know she is going to be surrounded by so much love, she’s going to be so spoiled. You’ve had conversations with Feyre and Nesta, Elain too, about how cute the female toys and clothing were in the shops lining the Sidra. They all begged you to have a girl when you announced your third pregnancy, placing bets with their mates on whether or not you’d bring a little girl into the family, and their pleading has all paid off.

You can’t wait to tell them.

Azriel kisses across your stomach. You thread your fingers through his hair, allowing him this time with his daughter. It’s sweet, more than, to see him like this. He’s so in love with her already, you can see it in the way his wings wiggle with excitement, the way his thumbs stroke the soft skin where his daughter is growing inside of you.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers, finally raising his gaze to look at you. He doesn’t move away, instead resting his chin on your stomach. “We’re having a girl.”

You can’t help your smile, a tear escaping your eye. He’s wanted a daughter for just as long as you have, and you promised not to stop having children until you had a girl, but soon, with two boys and one girl, you don’t think you’ll stop until this little one has a sister to play with as well.

You can see the same sentiment in your mates eyes.

“We’re having a girl,” you agree, lifting his chin so you can kiss your mate.

Jax:

“Azriel,” you squeeze your eyes shut through the uncomfortableness of a contraction. Your mate’s hand is strong on your lower back, his other arm gripped tightly in your grasp. “I love you, but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Easy,” Azriel replies gently. His touch is soft but firm as he helps you to your bed. It’s set up with all of the essentials for giving birth, and with this being your fourth child, you’re more than prepared. The little one has been a fairly easy pregnancy, as if each moment spent in your womb was better than the last. He wasn’t eager to meet the world like his older brother, Baz, who kicked you relentlessly for nine months straight. It was almost as if the babe inside of you enjoyed the comfort you provided, but his father and siblings are more than excited to meet the new member of the family.

Your water broke this morning over breakfast with your family. Baz had burst into a fit of giggles over his waffles, pointing and shouting about how you’d peed your pants. Wren, your oldest, perked with excitement, knowing exactly what that meant. He’s slipped from his chair, offering you a tight hug before scampering to his room with his little brother in tow, talking all about how they were going to get to see their cousins while you had another baby.

Zuzu, just one, was covered in whipped cream, giggling and gurgling and making a mess with the sweet cream. You had torn Azriel’s attention from where he bopped a bit of cream onto her nose, and, after a quick once-over, worry lacing his hazel eyes, his face melted into something sweet when he caught your smile, the happy tears in your eyes.

Your son couldn’t choose a more perfect day to enter the world.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asks, pulling back the covers. He’d be latched to your side until the babe entered the world, whenever that may be. Could be nearly an entire day, like Wren, or mere hours, like Baz and Zuzu.

“You’re talking about letting the male who gifted Baz a real blade for Starfall when he was only 3, watch our boys for the night.” You had agreed to the plan at first because you didn’t think Cassian was all that serious about it, but now that it’s really happening, you can’t help but worry.

“Cassian wants this more than anything, love,” Az replies, helping organize the pillows behind your back. When all is to his liking, he sits on the edge of the bed, caressing your face. His hazel eyes are soft, a comfort that you lean into, or as much as you can with your belly in the way. “He’ll be fine. Rhys and Nyx are going to be there too,” he reassures. And well, that doesn’t make you feel that much better. Rhys and Cassian and four children under 6. They’re in for a night. “And Zuz is getting all loved up by her aunties tonight.” Your daughter is spending the night at Feyre’s with her sisters, and you know that if anything, Rhys will have no problem calling in backup for the mischievous little boys.

“You’ll check in on them ever hour?” You ask, trying your best to get comfortable. The babe in your stomach gives a little kick, and you place your hand on your stomach, whispering down to him. “Soon, little guy, soon you’ll meet the world.”

“I’ll check on them every ten minutes if you want me to,” Azriel promises, placing his large hand over yours. Like the babe knows you and your mate are showing him affection, he kicks again. “But I don’t want you to worry. You need to focus on getting little Jax out.” He says the babes name like it’s the best he’s ever heard. He’s done that with all of your children, though. It fills you with warmth, his strong presence eases you into the comfort of your bed.

Malos and Knox:

“A sister!” Zuzu screeches in her uncle’s arms. You wince at the sheer volume of your four-year-old daughter, but you won’t scold her even through one of the hours old newborns in your arms squirms at the sound. She can’t help her excitement at the sight of her little sister, kicking out her tiny legs in demand to be released from Rhys’ clutches. He laughs and tries to situate Zuzu better in his arms. He looks to you for action, and with a soft nod of your head, he lets your daughter down.

Azriel, who has just handed Knox off to Feyre, who has tears in her eyes, quickly catches his oldest daughter around the waist before she can launch herself onto your bed and disturb the snoozing babe.

“Daddy,” Zuzu whines, but clings tightly to his shirt. Azriel immediately smooths her hair back from her face, disheveled from playing with her brothers all morning at her uncle’s house while you gave birth to the two newest members of your family. “I want to see my sissy!”

“Sissy’s sleeping,” he parent’s gently, bringing her closer. He sets Zuzu on the bed but stays close. “You need to be gentle, Zuz. She’s brand new.”

“Brand new,” Zuzu echoes, but you’re not entirely sure she knows what it means. She’s completely distracted by the small bundle in your arms anyway, her dark eyes glowing with delight. She looks up at you, wide-eyed, and you can’t help but smile at your daughter. “She’s mine?”

“She’s your sister,” you laugh softly. You position Malos in your arms so Zuzu can see better.

“Wow,” she whispers, awe in her tone. She softly reaches out and brushes a finger across her sister’s chubby cheeks. The babe makes a noise and Zuzu snatches her hand back to her chest.

“It’s okay, Zuz,” Azriel says gently. “She’s just saying hello.”

Zuzu nods at her father eagerly, then returns her attention to Malos. “Hello, little baby. I’m Zuz. I’m going to be the bestest big sister ever! I’m going to teach you so much, and nothing like our naughty brothers can show you…” She babbles while you share a loving look with your mate.

You were worried how Zuzu might react to a sister. She’s been surrounded by boys for four years, and right now, you can see that this is something special, something pure between the two girls.

“What are their names?” Feyre asks, placing Knox carefully in your arms while your sons join you and the rest of your family on the bed. Jax climbs directly into Azriel’s lap, clinging to him like a monkey. He peers down at the babes in your arms with curiosity.

Wren and Baz settle on your other side, leaning over to see both of the babes. They look just as excited as the rest of your family, and this moment right now, surrounded by your family and the people you love the most, makes everything worthwhile.

You smile at your mate, who gives you a soft nod of encouragement.

“Their names are Malos and Knox.”

[xiao-come-home]

Thinking about post-story Jiaoqiu trying to find himself in the new situation.. and getting even more clingier 🤧

warning: spoilers for jaoqiu's story if you havent played the new quest. possible ooc jiaoqiu?

Word count: 1k+

a/n: its been a while from writing and even tho im not disabled in any way, i hope its alright bc im kinda nervous to post this. i just think hed be a lovely pain in the butt to get more love </3

The new reality has been a true challenge for Jiaoqiu - trying to navigate through the house was already a tedious task, let alone cooking, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. While yes, he did miss doing things by himself - which, once in a while brought dark clouds over his head - the foxian managed to find enjoyment through doing tasks together, with your help.

It's quite known that Jiaoqiu isn't afraid of craving affection from you anywhere and anytime - especially now, considering he's limited in what he's able to do safely without hurting himself. Now that you're welcome in the kitchen to assist him, the pink-haired foxian can't help, but pull you flush against him while you carefully guide his hands to cut vegetables in even slices.

The healer slowly trails the tip of his nose down your hair until he recognizes the familiar shape of your neck - Jiaoqiu nuzzles happily into you, ever so slightly tickling you and giving you goosebumps; he smiles against your skin when you let out a comically fake, tired sigh, only fueling him to continue pestering you further.

He purposely takes his chin off the top of your head and searches for your ears so he's able to whisper, but when you decide to playfully confront him, Jiaoqiu only plays dumb and tilts his head to the side, asking you a seemingly innocent question, "Hmm? What do you mean, love? I'm not doing anything, the kitchen is not a playground, remember?"

There's a chance you'd probably believe him if you two were mere coworkers - but his twitching ears always give away his attempts to lie to you.

Jiaoqiu is clingy. Absolutely no news to anybody. That's when you finally get done with cooking, it's time for the cunning foxian to get a break; he stretches his arms to you, waiting until you put his hands on your cheeks. He cups them gently, rubbing the soft flesh with his thumb, and softly moves it to find your lips - his mind paints a picture of your figure, the shape and every crease his fingers feel; he smiles at you yet again, with a glimmer of mischief.

He wants to kiss you.

He also knows he will most likely miss your lips more or less.

But instead of feeling hopeless, he uses it to his advantage.

Jiaoqiu begins to pepper your face in kisses until he feels you try to get away from him and hears your angelic giggles; he kisses your left eyebrow - oh no, that's definitely not the place he's aiming for! He moves more to the right and kisses the bridge of your nose - oh no, not yet! The softness of his lips meets the apple of your cheek - oh, that's closer, but still not the goal he has in his mind...

After a while of Jiaoqiu purposely changing directions (and probably missing some anyway, but it's not like he complains about it, since he can kiss you more this way), with a little help of yours, he places a kiss on the corner of your lips, barely giving you time to breathe and finally, finally reaching his awaited destination, pressing his lips on yours; he gives you a few quick kisses if he feels like he still misses the exact place to change the angle, melting into a puddle with butterflies in his stomach.

Is it hard sometimes? Yes. The heavy weight travels straight to his heart, leaving him clenching his fists; the foxian hates the helplessness that hurts twice as much, much worse than the wounds Hoolay has inflicted.

Nowadays, his ears pick up your step way better, even letting him guess correctly what jar of herbs you're opening from the mere sound. He uses his tail as some sort of object detector - but he only waves his fan innocently when it makes you yelp in surprise, as Jiaoqiu runs the tip down your spine all the way down.

"Ah, I wonder what that was?" Jiaoqiu wonders, the fluffy ears twitching and the pink tail swishing behind him, "Is something wrong, beloved? Did you mess up the measurements? No worries, we'll fix it right away."

Well, if you decide to leave the house for supplies, you now have to hold his hand all the time. Just to be sure, he also wraps his tail around you, so he knows you're by his side and he doesn't bump into anybody. Hey, he's just thinking about the civilians around him! As a doctor, there's nothing else that matters more than keeping them safe and healthy... Right?

Even though he's been braiding his hair for years and could probably do it by himself again - being only a tiny bit off on one side, he cuddles up to you in the morning and presses kisses onto your neck, silently asking you to help him once you get out of bed - you certainly can't miss his hair getting all up in your face... and therefore, what he's asking for.

Does he feel a liiiitle desperate? Mmm, a bit.

Does he feel like he's feeding the helplessness in the back of his mind? Sometimes.

But it's worth to look for happy moments regardless of the situation - and you being perfectly aware he's doing it solely to get even more of your attention - makes him feel a little better with it.

Though, he knows when to stop and give you space; he doesn't want to actually become your burden, even if he lost his sight, he's still trying his best to stay as independent as possible in terms of daily tasks as possible.

If you're tired, Jiaoqiu waits until you hand him the brush and he's the one combing your hair; if you're too sleepy in the morning, he's the one helping you put on your clothes with verbal help, even if it takes a bit more time than usual. Along with you, he organizes medicines so neatly, it takes a blink of an eye for him to bring a full tray of medicines when you happen to catch a cold.

Does he miss being able to see? More than he'd admit.

But the more he thinks, the pink-haired foxian always comes to the same conclusion - it'll probably be harder to unlearn the clinginess once his eyesight comes back...

But for now, maybe it's alright to indulge a little more?

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[artsninspo]

"FIRST LOVE💗 " - RIO X READER

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Summary: For the girls who wanted a younger rio x reader. Here it is; Rio’s fallen for the daughter of his boxing coach. Based around this ask.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Reader

Warnings: none this is fluffy 🐻 🐻 🐻

Word Count: 1K

“Tell me you love me” Rio laughs, pulling you to him. His thumbs looped into the belt loops of your jeans as his hands rest on your butt. Looking up you laugh at the sight of him wearing your puppies of choice.

“No” you respond and he pulls you in closer.

“Don’t play with me” he laughs sitting on the trunk of his car.

“Tell me you love me” he repeats and you look up at him about to respond when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. Taking your hands from his knees you reach into it to see your dad in the caller ID.

“Dad?” You question picking up.

“Maria says we also need vegetables, I texted you the list. Don’t come back without it” he says talking about your stepmom. 

“Okay, it’ll take a little longer” you respond.

“Hurry we’re all hungry” your father says and Rio hips down from his car swinging an arm around you as you hand up.

“Lucky for you I know where all this shit is” he smiles, taking the phone from you. The two of you walk like that from the very back of the parking lot into the store. You grab a cart and Rio leads the way. His abuelita has taught him well or he’s excellent at bullshitting.

“Hey, Y/N it’s nice to see you” one of your friends' moms says, eyeing Rio.

“Nice to see you too Ma’am” you smile.

“One of your brother's friends?” She pries, ready to sell your secrets for a chance to be with your father.

“Yeah, he works at the gym” you don’t hesitate.

“Christopher” Rio smiles.

“Mhm, be good sweetie and stay away from boys who look at you the way he does. They’re all trouble” she advises before walking away. Everyone’s already made plans for the kind of man they want you to be with.

“So you don’t love me?” Rio whispers in your ear to taunt you.

“I told you not to get that neck tatt” you laugh evading the question and he smiles laughing. 

“I’ll get one for you, when you tell me you love me” Rio whispers in your ear again, in good humour.

“We should tell my dad.” You sigh.

“Why?”

“Because he’s your boxing coach and it could get messy if he thinks you’re a fox in the hen house” you explain.

“You won’t even tell me you love me, he doesn’t have to worry about us having sex” Rio scoffs, placing the final ingredients in your cart. You smile happy he knows and he smiles back winking at you.

“You’re okay with that?” You ask and he shrugs walking at your side.

“I’m seeing you when your dad can fuck me up, my heads already gone. Probably best for my well being you don’t sleep with me yet so I can stop spinning” Rio says making you blush.

“My dad likes you” you share candidly.

“For now” Rio says knowing how things work.

“I don’t think us dating changes that. Just makes you the enemy first, his pupil second.” You explain and Rio gets his money out to pay ahead of you. 

“Keep it” he smiles, allowing you to pocket the money your father gave you for the errand.

“Rio-“ you object.

“Shh” he says before helping you bring the groceries to his car. You both second guess parking so far out for some privacy. Rio gets your door and you sit passenger side waiting for him to get in. He pulls off and you look at each other smiling before the blushing happens and you’re both filled with butterflies. Rio’s hand interlocks fingers with yours and he kisses thrm. “I’ll tell him” he relents.

“Thank you” , you sigh with relief.

“Then we can go places together and go on dates” you say with excitement.

“Where do you want to go first?” Rio asks and you relax against the headrest pondering the thought. Rio watches your eyes sparkle. He watches the thoughts roll through your head as he waits for the red light to turn green.

“Let’s go to the roller skating rink”

“No way I’m not busting my ass in front of you on our first date” Rio smiles.

“Where then?” You ask.

“Take you somewhere nice to eat so you can get all dressed up and I can show you off” Rio says with his priorities all over the place. You laugh.

“After you show me off?”

“A drive in, we can watch something scary so you have an excuse to be all over me” Rio proposes and you love it.

“No imagination” you sigh, acting like it’s a bad suggestion.

“I don’t care as long as you’re happy and I’m not busting my ass,” Rio concludes.

“What about an art class? I could look for something. A workshop activity we could do?” You ask obliterating Rio’s idea of romance which was everything he’d ever seen on television.

“If it makes you happy” Rio shrugs.

“Okay, I’ll find something” you smile, getting ahead of yourself.

The rest of the ride is short and you find your father waiting out front. He scrunches his face at the sight of Rio taking the bags of food from you.

“It’s all here” you tell your father.

“Christopher” your dad nods in acknowledgement.

“Sir” Rio nods.

“You staying for dinner? The boys aren’t back yet” Your dad says.

“I’d like to speak to you about something” Rio’s voice cracks a little.

“Sure” your dad says heading in to set down the groceries. You sigh watching from the kitchen as they talk outside. Maria, your father’s current fixation watches you like a hawk.

“Told you he likes you” she smiles. “Don’t work, I’ll convince your dad you should be allowed to date, if you try and get him to take me on a trip for my birthday. Three days away can go a long way” she comments, chopping up the produce.

“Why don’t we just make dinner like we said we would?” You ask peeling your eyes away from the outside window. She smiles hearing your dad’s voice raise.

“Kid has some balls” she scoffs as your heart races. He gets louder and she stops putting the knife down to head outside. You stay out of it wanting to speak to Rio but not wanting things to get worse. “Babe she’s a good kid, you should reward honesty. She’s not having sex and she wanted him to tell you. Be her hero not her warden. You can’t protect her from everything. If he messes up guess what, you’re still her dad, you can go off” Maria says reasoning with him.

“I like the kid. I don’t want to have to kill him. But that’s my baby girl” your father snaps.

________-

Authors Note: Testing, I wanted this to be longer but I haven't written teenage puppy love in so long I hope I did okay. This was supposed to be one long update but I had to break it up so you all could have something in relatively timely matter.

Let me know if you enjoyed it.

LIKE COMMENT & REBLOG

[knoepfl]

Sweets Aren’t Enough

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (You)

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Slight Hurt/Comfort

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of unhealthy eating habits, stress, exhaustion, and slight depictions of poor self-care.

Masterlist

Words: 1096

Author’s Note:

Hey, lovelies! This fanfiction is for anyone who loves the idea of caring for L and reminding him that he’s human too, even if he doesn’t always treat himself that way. Expect lots of fluff, a bit of exasperation, and a tiny kiss for those romantic feels. I hope you enjoy reading this! If you relate to any of the topics mentioned in the trigger warnings, take care of yourself and remember it’s okay to need rest, food, and love. You deserve it!

---

The glow of computer monitors filled the darkened room as the hum of L’s investigation team buzzed around him. He sat, as usual, with his knees pulled to his chest on the swivel chair, black eyes glued to the screen. Empty teacups, cake plates, and candy wrappers cluttered the desk, but he seemed oblivious to the mess—his mind too focused on tracking Kira.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with concern. How long had he been sitting there, motionless, aside from the occasional flick of his finger across the keyboard? Days, probably. L's narrow frame already looked thinner than the last time you’d seen him. His face was paler, his dark circles deeper, and from the way he slouched slightly, you could tell fatigue was creeping in.

Enough was enough. You couldn’t watch him do this to himself anymore.

"L," you called softly, stepping into the room. He didn’t look away from the monitor, but you caught the slight shift in his shoulders—he knew you were there.

"Hmm?" L’s voice was low, distracted. His gaze never left the scrolling data in front of him, fingers tapping keys like a pianist lost in a symphony.

You walked closer, determined. "When was the last time you had a real meal?"

“I had cake a few hours ago,” he replied matter-of-factly, finally glancing at you with his wide, unreadable eyes.

“That doesn’t count, L,” you said, exasperated. “You can’t live on sweets forever.”

His lips curled into a small, amused smile, as if he found the concept of needing anything beyond sugar and caffeine entirely unnecessary. "I function perfectly fine like this."

You knelt beside him, resting a hand on his knee to get his full attention. "But you’re not fine. You look exhausted. And no, cake isn't a meal."

He blinked, his head tilting slightly. It was always difficult to tell what L was thinking, but you knew him well enough to notice the flicker of acknowledgment behind his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though there was no real conviction behind his words. You sighed and stood up, brushing the dust off your knees.

"Stay here. I’m making you something, and you’re going to eat it—no excuses."

Without waiting for a response, you left the room and headed to the kitchen. You knew L could be stubborn, but so could you. He needed proper food, and you were determined to give it to him.

Twenty Minutes Later

The smell of sautéed vegetables and herbs filled the small kitchen. You kept it simple: rice, a bowl of miso soup, grilled salmon, and some lightly seasoned greens. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was nutritious—something L’s body desperately needed after days of sugar highs and crashes.

As you plated everything, you heard the familiar sound of bare footsteps padding toward the kitchen. You turned to see L standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, watching you quietly.

“You left your screen,” you teased with a smile. “That’s progress.”

“I came to observe your cooking,” he said in his usual monotone, though you detected the faintest hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“Well, the food is ready.” You pulled out a chair at the small dining table. “Sit.”

For a moment, L just stood there, looking at the chair like it was a foreign object. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto it, mimicking his usual crouch with his knees pulled up.

You placed the plate in front of him, along with the bowl of soup, and sat down across from him. "Go on. Eat."

He stared at the meal as if it were an enigma, picking up his chopsticks with his fingers awkwardly pinched. L’s diet was so limited to sweets that real food seemed almost alien to him.

You smiled softly. “If you eat it all, I’ll make you dessert.”

That caught his attention. A tiny spark lit in his dark eyes, and he hesitantly took a small bite of the salmon. You watched as he chewed slowly, clearly not used to savory flavors, but you could tell he didn’t dislike it.

“See? Not so bad, right?” you said, propping your chin in your hand.

L swallowed and gave a tiny nod. "It is… acceptable."

“That’s high praise coming from you.” You grinned, relieved that he was at least trying. “Now finish the rest.”

L continued eating, albeit slowly. His hands were clumsy with the chopsticks, and his movements lacked the same precision he used when typing away on his computer. But he ate—piece by piece, spoonful by spoonful—and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection watching him.

When he finally finished the meal, L set his chopsticks down and stared at the empty plate as if surprised by his own actions. You chuckled softly, leaning over to ruffle his already messy hair.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

L tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, unreadable gaze. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart warmed at the rare show of gratitude. L wasn’t the kind of person to express emotions openly, but moments like these—small and subtle—meant everything.

You stood up and began to clear the dishes, but L’s hand reached out, lightly brushing your wrist. “You promised dessert.”

You laughed. "Right. I did, didn’t I?"

Later That Evening

The two of you sat on the couch, a small slice of strawberry shortcake resting between you. L picked at it slowly, savoring each bite with the kind of focus he usually reserved for cracking cases.

He looked more relaxed now, his posture less rigid, his expression softer. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. L stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. After a moment, his arm shifted, wrapping around you in a hesitant but deliberate motion.

You tilted your head up slightly, close enough to feel the soft warmth of his breath. He hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with uncertainty, but you gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, L leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips—a fleeting, gentle moment that felt like a promise.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, as if studying your expression to understand this new, unfamiliar feeling.

“Thank you,” he whispered again.

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Anytime, L.”

And you meant it. No matter how brilliant he was, L would always need someone to remind him that he wasn’t alone—and you would gladly be that person.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this soft, comforting moment with L. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave feedback! Remember, taking care of yourself—like eating proper meals and resting—is important, even if life gets busy. Just like L, you deserve love and care too!

[cheesechilifreye]

hi there! I wonder if you do hc request cus this thought came to my mind

how would the eltingville boys react to the covid 19 pandemic and what do they do during the lock down?

OOOOO I love this!!

Headcanons for Covid 19 lockdown!

(I’ll be doing pre epilogue for context!!)

Bill

He’d be ecstatic to know that school was out for two weeks. That meant he’d be free to spend time gathering stuff for his collection. Then was royally butt hurt over the fact everything was closed.

Refused to wear a mask. Claimed it was “hard to breathe” and “useless.”

Went outside once out of spite. Immediately caught Covid. I like to think he has a weak immune system

Very clingy when sick and strangely kind. Enjoyed being around his brother and sister when he could be.

By strangely kind— just didn’t cuss at his siblings often, begrudgingly joined games of their, and often times was happy to have someone else to talk to.

I know for sure he tried to argue he wasn’t sick while looking like death. Then became a clingy mess when his mom got him into bed.

Chicken noodle soup enjoyer. Specifically his mom’s. Hates literally any other kind of cooking, but especially loves his mothers when he’s sick.

You have to hold him down to get him to drink water. Say it hurts his throat.

kitten sneeze. No I will not argue. He hates it.

Spent most of his day on the internet, banned from Reddit more times than he can count.

Didn’t know how to shave so he got scruff early.

Would attempt to sneak out to see his friends or make a club meeting. Always failed since he sucked at sneaking out and being quiet.

Closest person to actually ever attend a club meeting was Josh since they live so close.

Was mostly bored during Covid.

Almost cried over when the ban was lifted and immediately tried to hold a meeting.

Everyone got Covid after said meeting.

Once during a fever, ripped open a limited edition figurine and played with it. When his fever broke he threw a hissy fit at his actions.

Would lay around most days doing nothing because he couldn’t do much.

Yknow Rodrick from DOAWK. Yeah he momentarily became him during Covid before turning back into his regular jerk self to his siblings.

He would beg to walk the dog just to see the outdoors.

Josh

Calls his friends often. The reason why his parents phone bill was so high.

Ended up mailing them for awhile.

He surprisingly took care of his hair more during the lockdown.

Shocked his friends when they saw his curls. A week later they were hidden by his greasy locks.

Was kicked out of a mall because he threw a hissy fit over wearing a mask.

Wears them begrudgingly so he doesn’t get his mom sick.

Was the first member of the group to get Covid. Let them know through his mother through the landline.

Becomes a vegetable when sick. Doesn’t argue, doesn’t move much, sleeps, eats, etc.

Spoiled beyond belief while sick. He wants a popsicle, done. Another box of tissues, you got it. Random video game, sure and here’s some controllers.

Probably got hospitalized at some point because his fever just wouldn’t break.

He was fine thought.

Became a bit of an hypochondriac. Got the vaccine immediately.

Wouldn’t eat after most people. Always got food first. He’d hog most of it because he wouldn’t know if this was his last meal or not.

All failed because he wound up sick because of Bill’s meeting.

Likes to be around people when he’s sick because he doesn’t like being quarantined alone.

Had his “first” panic attack over his dad getting Covid. He was fine. Josh was grateful.

Organized and re-organized his collection. Got bored very quickly.

Tried to pick up new hobbies but was limited because of the lack of the objects in his home and he couldn’t exactly order them.

Became more social because his parents were his only physical company. He ended up picking up some cooking skills from his mom.

Made breakfast for them one day, tried to act aloof but was very happy when they enjoyed it.

Pete

Whole family got sick, including Pete.

Was pretty helpful because he didn’t think he was too “sick,” was actually the worst one of them all.

Fell asleep in awkward places, his siblings only knew where he was by his wheezy breathing.

Once everyone was done being “sick” they assumed it was just a one off thing.

They got sick many MANY more times.

Surprisingly Josh and Pete called the most. Second was Pete and Jerry.

Usually would call one of the two so they can watch a new movie of some sorts together and make commentary over it.

His dad was not happy about the phone bill.

Pete’s immune system is pretty strong because of where he grew up. Just gets hit with symptoms hard.

His little sister definitely covered him in her stuffed animals so he’d get better. It helped him a lot— mentally.

Fight me, Pete’s a cuddler. He likes to hug something while he’s sick. Won’t remember it but his family does.

They tease him over it.

Freaked out when his hair was growing too long. Doesn’t like it when it touches his neck. So he cut it himself instead of letting his dad do it like usual.

He ended up having to get it all buzzed off. But Pete didn’t care, just happy it wasn’t touching his neck.

Didn’t wear a mask throughout Covid.

He didn’t believe it was real (even though he caught it many times), thought masks wouldn’t help (he wore them wrong), and just would decline them.

Him and his siblings resorted to any social interaction with one another. Leading to a lot of game and movie nights.

Uno, Sorry, Monopoly, and even gold fish are banned. 3 holes in the wall are the reason, plus a broken table.

It was never a boring day during Covid since they’d argue over anything.

Everyone caught cabin fever.

Jerry

Last person to get Covid. First caught it through his mom.

His parents forced him to wear a mask, wash his hands, and were on top of his hygiene.

Mostly because they didn’t want to lose already limited work days because of Covid.

Jerry took care of his mom through her sickness, she definitely felt upset over this but grateful. Scolded him when he caught it from her.

They have a specific routine for every sickness Jerry gets: specific pajamas, soups, drinks, etc. His mom believes this order will always cure him in a week flat.

Always succeeds.

Called Bill once to ask him about his day. Bill understood nothing since Jerry’s voice was so raspy.

Buried himself under blankets because he’s always so cold.

Watches movies over and over since he falls asleep through them. Wore out his “Dark Crystal” tape.

Eh he hallucinates during his fevers. Nothing scary just thinking he’s in some fantasy adventure.

His mom caught him on the bed babbling about some dungeon mission. To his stuffed animals that were: Josh, Bill and Pete.

She walked out immediately.

When she came back. He was asleep in bed and curled up around the stuffed animals that were his “friends.”

After his Covid meeting, he definitely became more aware of how easy it is to catch.

Was a bit iffy on seeing the guys after the lift on quarantine.

Regretted immediately when he caught it again.

Convinced his parents to play D&D. Actually went pretty well. They had a campaign going for a few months.

Art skills improved DRASTICALLY.

Would take any social interaction as win, outside of his parents.

Probably taught himself something silly. Like juggling or balloon art.

Sorry if this isn’t what you meant 0.o but I tried to make it sound like them.

[raspberrybesitos]

mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: M - 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.

Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @/saradika

Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.

You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.

He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.

“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.

His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.

“Need some help?” He asks.

You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.

You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.

“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.

“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.

“Yes ma’am.”

Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.

“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.

“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”

You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.

“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.

You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.

He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.

“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.

Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.

“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.

“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”

“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.

“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.

He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.

But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.

He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.

The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.

Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.

“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”

Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.

“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.

“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.

Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.

“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.

He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.

He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.

Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.

Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.

Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.

“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.

It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.

“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.

“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.

“A little more, please?”

Another grunt.

“A liiiitttllleee more.”

With a sigh, he shoves it once more.

“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.

He could never stay annoyed at you.

“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.

His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.

When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?

“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.

You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.

“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.

You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.

Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.

You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.

Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.

He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.

Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.

That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.

Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.

“Thank you, honey.”

“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.

“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.

“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.

“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.

Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?

He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.

Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.

She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.

“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.

“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.

“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.

“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.

“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.

“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”

“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.

“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.

“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.

She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.

“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.

“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.

“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”

You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.

Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.

Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.

“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.

Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.

You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.

The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.

“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”

“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.

You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.

“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.

“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.

just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔

i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse

[ckret2]

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

[princessofghosts-posts]

do u think Nico is more powerful or Percy? cuz it's been a debate in the fandom for a long time and u discuss both Nico and Percy in ur posts so what is ur opinion??

THIS is a really good question.

Before starting this analysis I would like to remember you all that even tho I bias Nico heavily (he is my ult favorite character ever),I'm actually pretty objective when it came to him and Percy level of powers. I mostly blame the writing of the power-scaling (I already discussed about this in another post) and Rick's decision to give them certain powers. But I already yapped enough about this,let's move on with the actual question.

We need to consider a couple of things when we talk about Percy and Nico powers and how people perceives them.

They are Big Three children,so they will always be extremely powerful in their own rights and elements.

They are on a whole different League when it cames to demigods's nature,so they will always be more powerful and skilled than any other demigod,since they are superior in their nature.

They both have self-esteem issues that doesn't give them the full vision of how much powerful they really are.

Those are factors that are involved in the narrative,because outside of it there are other things to take in consideration,but we will talk about them later.

First thing first,they are both sons of the greeks Big Three Gods. There are already singled out from having a normal demigod standard experience by just their fathers. The Greek pantheon is much older than the Roman one,since Ancient Greece's time was between 1000 a.C. and 146 a.C.,when the Romans conquered the territory. So,this put Nico,Thalia and Percy on their own league that's even different from Hazel and Jason levels,because their source of power is more ancient than the roman's one. They are also more in tune with their powers too and can use them in some versatile way,especially Nico. So,we start at the base that Percy and Nico are extremely powerful by default.

Then we have their differences with the other demigods and how normal demigods see them. As I stated before,since they are children of the Elders Gods,they are the most powerful ones. No ifs,no buts and no "but what about-". No,it doesn't matter who,it will always be them,there is no one else who can reach their levels of power. It's like a default starting. Every demigods can be powerful in their own right,especially if they put effort in it,but they will always be seconds to children of the Big Three no matter how good they try. Cue the campers view of them. There is a pattern here we need to follow: Percy forced isolation after Poseidon claimed him; Thalia being put under pression after she come back from being a vegetable,leading to her feeling alone on her own; Nico's mistreatment by everyone and his isolation being a direct consequences of both CHB and Bianca. You think that's a coincidence that every child of the Big Three got mistreatment? No. It isn't. Campers put too many pressure on them since they are the most powerful ones. Their fathers are leaders in their own domains (and Zeus being literally the King of the Gods),so they expect the same from them. But that aspect is more a roman thing,here is more about how irresponsable everyone is when it cames to fix a situation,and probably a bit of envy too since they will never match their abilities.

Percy and Nico view of themselves doesn't help in this case. They recognize the other as a powerful individual,but they don't see themselves as powerful too. Like,if you ask Percy who is the more powerful person between him and Annabeth,the dude is capable of saying Annabeth when she has no powers at all (her brain doesn't count,everyone have that). And for Nico? We are talking about a guy that doesn't see value in living,you think he has a good analysis skill for his own power? That guy barely think he is powerful. That's why they are both unreliable narrators. And while we as readers should know how much powerful they are,their PoVs can alterate this conception. Yes,I'm talking about people that are like "But Percy/Nico said that X character was more [insert something positive] than him" when it came to prove something. Percy and Nico narratives aren't good ones to hold on when we needs to confirm power levels.

Now,I said all of this because at the end of MoA,Nico told the Seven that Percy is the most powerful demigod he knew. That's canon nd something that has been said by everyone that met him. Canonically Percy Jackson is the most powerful demigod of the modern century.

BUT!

We needs to take in consideration that Nico's powers usually are steps ahead of Percy's,and are more versatile and development than his. Nico himself has more endurance than Percy (maybe not physical,but 100% mental) and that's canon too.

What I'm trying to say is that while Percy strength is in the raw force of his powers,Nico strength lies in the versatility of its powers.

For the books' plots to work they need Nico to actually be more powerful and acknowledged than Percy,since most of the times it's him that take the initiative to save the day. He helped Percy out in the Labyrinth,he helped him escape from Kronus outing himself to their enemy,he found out about Luke living situation,he made a plan to give Percy indestructibility,went out of his way to help him win the war and fighting Kronos with a dead army,brought Hazel back to life,traveled thought Tartarus to find the doors,helped them to travel to their destination,got the scepter from Cupid (fuck him),was the Seven trivia and guide in the second-half of their quest,gave them informations about things they needed to know,actively taking part into fights while extremely weak but could still use his powers (HOW?),took the statue with him and took the weight of helping the Seven to save the world,fought during the travel,turned Bryce into a ghost,summoned a couple of skeletons and zombies,put mortals to sleep and still continued to fight once arrived at camp.

I would like to focus on the "statue point". Nico's travel with the statue is talked about a lot but I never saw the full thought behind what was really happening here. Nico di Angelo wasn't recovered yet from his captivity and was still in an extremely bad shape when he starte his travel. He had to transport the Athena Parthenos,that already had a lot of ancient magic inside,with 2 other people. And it takes a lot of strength for doing this. And if we consider all the things that went down on their trip..... it's really impressive how Nico got that far in his physical condition,before Hedge brought him help. He needed to draw on a lot of powers to accomplish this mission. And he did,while still able to function well enough,and be able to use some of the minor abilities he has.

Nico is extremely powerful,and even tho canonically Percy is in the first place of the classification,the books needs Nico to be more powerful than Percy. So,outside of the narrative,Nico is more powerful.

They are both the most powerful one if we look at the same situation but from a different angle,and all of this if we only focus on the BOOKS NARRATIVE.

Now,if we take an outside look and focus on the writing: Nico is more powerful than Percy with the way his powers operate.

Death is everywhere and part of everyone,it touch and reach whatever you want it to have. It's a universal event. Only for this reason he should be more powerful than Percy. He can instant kill with just a touch or a command,or even trap someone's soul in his sword if he feel like it. That's OP and it's only a little part of things he is able to do.

Pawer-scaling here is a mess because Riordan has the format of "MC is the most powerful character ever" while he adds more and more to Nico's powers. I made a post where I talked about this more in the details,so I won't delve thet much here.

We all know that Riordan favor Percy in any way possible and made him extremely powerful. While I don't mind him having control over poisons (still liquids so it's totally fair) I don't like how he can controll the Underworld Rivers,since they are in the Underworld,Hades's domain. But that's something more about my preference,really.

Other than making Percy OP he also made sure every other child of the Big Three (this times the romans too) couldn't stand out to him. That's the whole reason Jason is this way and Nico has so many downsides in the use of his powers. But even with this,Riordan himself added more and more to Nico's powers,things so unique that even Percy can't do. Which I never understood since he both add and subtract to Nico's powers levels. Riordan can be really weird and indecisive with him,one moment he is bashing someone in the Underworld,the next he is dying in the sun. He needs to decide.

So,we actually have 2 ways to see this:

Canonically Percy Jackson is the most powerful demigod of this century;

Narratively (and outside of it) Nico di Angelo is the most powerful demigod of this time;

And strange enough (knowing Riordan favoritism it is strange),Nico is also the most powerful one when it came to Riordan's writing.

But of course,we need to remember they are BOTH extremely powerful for everyone else in the Riordanverse too,in their own ways.

Now,if only Rick could finally stop nerfing Nico and making Percy not appear as an idiot.....

[derww]

Three small oneshots written on keys from people. First, @mapicccc and TA going groccery shopping, second, @happy-mountain-goats and Subz fixing his wings (apologize in advance for the errors/inaccuracies in the anatomical details), third, @nivalulu and 4C doing small differences.

***

– No, – Zam says sterntly, suddenly perhaps even to himself, as he throws a frozen pizza out of the cart. Mapicc rolls his eyes like he's dealing with a small child.

– Okay, genius. Then you choose. Just hurry up, we've been here for half an hour already.

– No problem, – Zam goes to the shelves and – as if completely at random – pulls out a package of frozen vegetable yakisoba.

– Absolutely not, – Mapicc snaps, – there's not even meat in there! I'm going to starve!

– There was no meat on the pizza either, – Zam retorts, waving the box.

– There was pepperoni in there! – Mapicc crosses his arms over his chest, determined to stand his ground. – It counts!

– It's not, – Zam continues to bicker, but he is stopped by a package of mac&cheese hitting him in the temple. He catches it, rubbing the bruised spot with his other hand and swearing under his breath, and then throws it back. Spoke catches it and mockingly puts it into the cart. He is sitting in the place where small children were usually put – with his height, his feet almost touch the floor – and is clearly laughing at their silly squabbles.

– You don't have to eat the same thing, you assholes, – Spoke chuckles, – it doesn't matter – in short, just throw anything, otherwise, we'll be yelling here until closing time. By the way, where is Ro? Terry! – He waves his hand aggressively, and Terry, who is a few meters away from them collecting an obscene number of pastry bags, turns around and bows his head in a silent question, – Terry, find Ro, we've lost him again!

– I think we all know where Ro is right now, – Terry replies with a giggle, dropping everything into their shared cart, – but I can go and take him, of course, – he yawns, – we can't send Mapicc or Zam to this. Zam will get lost, Mapicc will crash into a shelf.

– I'm not that hopeless! I'll find a way back! – Zam objects, but Terry shakes his head and slowly disappears around the corner.

– At least pretend you have something in your brain, – Mapicc mutters irritably, randomly throwing several more random boxes and freezer bags into the cart and pushing it forward in the direction Terry has gone.

– Who would say that! – Zam is indignant, catching up with him, – It was a terrible idea, next time I'm going alone.

– If you go alone, you'll only bring juice, a pack of chocolate croissants, and a half–eaten chipotle burrito!

– Last time you brought sriracha and 32 sausages! Who eats this for a week in a row!

– Relax, – Spoke drawled, – let's not argue about little things.-

Mapicc stops, and Spoke, too lanky for his position, almost falls out.

– You weren't given the right to vote, – he says, – you brought five original monsters last time we've asked you to buy shit. What is there to eat, the jar itself?

– Great breakfast! – Spoke answers calmly, giving Mapicc a thumbs–up and kicking him in the knee, – I don't know what you don't like about it... – he hurriedly turns around and, noticing something, starts shouting, - hey, Ro! - at first it looks like he's trying to distract their attention, but in the distance there really is a familiar figure looming. Ro holds a half-filled shopping basket in his hand. To his left is Terry, who has clearly regretted agreeing to go with them a hundred times.

– Hello, people, – once at an acceptable distance, Ro waves at them, – are you still arguing? Who should I calm down? Has anything been trashed yet?

When Ro gets even with them, Zam immediately reaches in with his hands into the shopping basket.

– Well, I can understand that, – he picks up tomatoes and sweet peppers without any pretense, – at least someone in this circus thought of bringing some vegetables... Also no questions, – a bag of spinach, celery, bananas, – let's say fine, but you'll be the only one eating it, – edamame, some hummus, – why the fuck do you need so much turmeric? – Ro shrugs his shoulders, and Zam rolls his eyes, but approves. – Is there at least someone in our house who drinks it? – a liter of soy milk, – I'll confiscate it, if you decide to get drunk, suffer for yourself, I have to put up with you all anyway, – he takes off a box of alka-seltzer, to which Ro squints suspiciously, and Mapicc says something remotely obscene... – my God, why do you need twenty-one ounces of olives? – Zam looks dumbfounded, first at the cans, then at Ro. Ro spreads his hands.

– He likes olives and eats them, – Mapicc calmly informs and shrugs his shoulders, – it's not for you to object. It's strange that you didn't know.

– It's all bullshit! – Zam objects, - he'd rather pour them down someone's neck than actually eat them!

– I'll go buy some bread and eggs, – Terry informs them meekly, but his words are drowned out by the hubbub of an argument starting again.

***

Okay, the problem is, his wings have been on the verge of breaking for a fucking eternity, but it's not like he could just take them off. Frankly, he had no idea how to solve the tangle of lost magic without ripping off his own spine. When he was sculpting the spell, he was sculpting hard and forever, and you couldn't fly on a Lifesteal anyway... before.

And, okay, the bases of his wings were in a mess, too, of course, but oh, well, not that he could do anything about it. The last time he checked, there wasn't any major damage, so it wasn't important anyway. To his personal surprise, his hind wings in general were not seriously injured in any way, only worn and torn at a couple of edges.

Do I really have to deal with this, he asks himself. It wasn't that important. They still will last a decent amount of time. And even if he falls in the middle of the flight, it's not a big problem. At last... He rolls his eyes and sighs. Friend agrees with him, humming approvingly. Well, or so it seems to him.

First, he has to make all the tools, because of course he doesn't have the right ones – he wanders in circles through the chaos of his base from side to side and over and over and over until he has everything he needs – or a replacement that will do. A brush has to be made very soft and delicate, small and fluffy, and then his hand cramps for half a day from small work, all sharp corners are cut off from the planed stick, leaving a smooth but thin tip, and the formula for the adhesive material is based on water and made as non-toxic as possible... At least he thinks it came out non-toxic... Well, if it didn't work out, then he'll realize the mistake when he can't fly. Or get a couple of chemical burns. Or get poisoned and die. What a cool perspective to have!

At least there is a directional lamp of the right brightness, and that's how he unfolds everything, in the middle of the corridor, holding onto the part of the hind wings that he can reach: first, he cleans off all the dust and dirt with a brush with unbearable care, first wet, and then dry. Some of the debris refuses to move away, and in the middle of the process he has to build forceps and, swearing under his breath, wield them as well. His hands can't reach everything, but something is better than nothing, and the elytras obviously turn out to be much easier to clean – denser and clearer, they soon turn out to be in an acceptable form. He refuses to reach the inside.

It's even more difficult with glue: apply it to the gap with slow movements – hey, and why did he kill the ancient god at all, if even his wings are tearing – and, having fixed it in the right position, leave it alone. There don't seem to be any symptoms of toxic shock. For now.

He's already putting everything together to put it in a corner and not see it for another hundred years when he hears a block breaking – almost a knock on the door when you live in an underground base without a normal entrance. Well, or breaking in with a chainsaw, if it's an enemy. With the garbage in his arms, he turns around only to see Red. Both of his hands are busy, so he just nods.

– Hi, dear friend. – Red drawls. – And what are you doing here?

He shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly.

– I was fixing the wings. They've been worn out all this time.

– So you can take them off? – Red wonders, – then why do you go everywhere with them?

Subz rolls his eyes.

– No, I can't, – he says, bored. – I fixed the part that I can reach.

– Well, – Red says dramatically, – it's a matter of your safety, Subz! You clearly need the help of a friend who will do you a favor in this difficult and painstaking task!

He makes a face and sighs.

– Yes, yes, of course, my friend Reddoons, – he mutters and resigns himself to the fate.

***

4C is familiar to people here as someone who is simple... exists. He doesn't hold grudges, doesn't maintain bad relationships, goes about his business, and lets the others do the same, and tunnel rats smile when they see him and pass him candies in gratitude to the founding captain. People don't attack him in battles, they don't bother him with arguments, they don't see any threat or danger in him, and he takes full advantage of it. He appears here and there, invisible in his routes, never having anything planned, and people shrug their shoulders and perceive him a little better than the moving element of the interior.

Sometimes it seems to him that he really is some kind of ghost: he cleans the bedroom and hall of the FOCUS base, not forgetting to change the linen and put fresh flowers in the vases, he takes care of the trees at the spawn and decorates the buildings for the holidays, he puts an elytra in the Spacewaffles chest and leaves three copper swords with colored handles in the chest in the tunnels, he waters the valley of daisies and wipes discs lying there from the dust.

He feeds pandas with bamboo and cats with raw tuna, he cleans empty houses and lights candles in churches, and he repairs doors and greases bolts. He lures wardens away from busy places and leaves them in ravines and gorges. He collects items from the corpses and leaves them in chests.

He builds a house at Zaun: he has to choose a simpler design, but it's still nice. Maybe one day I'll really be able to live here, he thinks with warm sadness, leaving only a crafting table inside. On the sign at the entrance, he writes: Home.

In 4C, there is no desire to be a good person, both for himself and for others, he is an invisible man, devoted to the grave, a worthy tunnel rat and keeper of secrets, someone who has laid down his life to avoid conflicts with people, not someone with at least some good or heartfelt motives, but something motivates him to continue. Sometimes he plants a new daisy, and it fills the void in him, sapling by sapling.

[siberat]

Meals are Best Shared

part 3

The trolly clanged noisily as it traveled through the home base, pausing briefly before the Pr.ime’s private quarters. Rat.chet suppressed a chuckle, reminiscing at how the leader objected to his own quarters, claiming no special accommodations were needed. No one was to fuss over him; everyone else was as important as him. Obviously, Team Pr.ime thought otherwise. It was the least they could provide for him.

Three knocks pounded on the door, followed by a booming voice granting him entrance. Once crossing the threshold, the medic spotted Opti.mus huddled over his desk, his face illuminated by the blueish glow of the datapads. Not even an upward glance was given, for his attention was fully emersed in his work.

“Burning the midnight oil, I see.” Rat.chet chided as the cart squeaked its way over to the desk. “I swear if you don’t always bring your work home....”

“I understand, old friend.” Opti.mus half-heartedly smiled and lazily looked up. “I just have a bad feeling about this quieting storm. I just want everyone to be safe.”

“Always thinking of others.” Rat.chet smiled, but that didn’t stop a finger from wagging. “But you need to take time for yourself. Doctor’s orders.”

While Pr.ime’s dedication was admirable, those words spoken were meant. Rat.chet stood with his hands on his widened hips, giving that look- optics stern as his lips pressed into a firm line. Opti.mus pretended not to see, but the stare-down eventually conceded. The datapads were clicked off and set to the side.

“Alright.” Opti.mus threw up his hands and shook his helm. “You win.” His gaze traveled to the cart. “What is this?”

“A much-needed home-cooked meal,” Rat.chet spoke sternly. “It’s about time you partook in our ample supply.” Two plates were set out. “Plus, I slaved all afternoon over this meal. The least you can do is enjoy it.” Serving utensils dipped into pans, filling the plates with warm goodness. First, a heaping pile of steamy mashed phosphophyllite was smooshed down, creating a creator-like base. Then, large scoops of cyber-beef stew that contain chunks of cadmium, crystal peas, carrots, and juicy cubes of ener-meat doused in gravy are poured in.

Watching Opti.mus’ optics widen was a glorious sight!

“Is that...You remembered my favorite meal!”

“How could I forget?” The medic’s chest puffed out proudly as the other ogled the plate. “And nothing goes better with beef stew than freshly baked bread.” Two loaves were placed on the table. And who could forget the tall glasses of engex? Low potency, of course. He was trying to get Opti.mus to relax- not drunk.

Finally, utensils were placed on the table, and Opti.mus eagerly dove a spoon into the food. Then paused. He shyly looked up at the medic standing there. “Pardon me, buddy. Where are my manners?” His servo gently rubbed the back of his helm. “Pull up a chair...”

“Ah-Ah Ah! Dig in, Opti.mus. You deserve it.” Rat.chet pulled up a chair and followed suit. He picked up his utensils and dug in. The first bite of wholesomeness warmed more than his mouth but his entire spark. The meat chunks were perfectly cooked, tender, and rich in taste. The vegetables held some of their crispness, adding a crunch of delightfulness to the dish.

His second spoonful contained some mashed phosphophyllite, whose texture was silky smooth and contained a slight earthy mixed with rich, flavorful butter. “Hmmmmmm.....” Rat.chet happily hummed. “The phosphophyllite is so creamy!”

“I agree.” Opti.mus smiled, ripping the heel off his loaf and dunking it into the stew. Once the fresh bread soaked up enough juice, it was consumed. “And this bread....it’s delicious.” The Auto.bot leader paused to drab a napkin to his lips. “I sure hope you didn’t slave away at the stove just for me.”

The truth was, he did. But it was an enjoyable event, so it didn’t count as work. Cooking was fun, even more when it’s your best comrade's favorite meal. “Opti.mus, providing you with a proper meal is an honor.”

“You’ve outdone yourself.” Another spoonful was consumed, and by the way the Pr.ime’s optics half-mooned with each bite, the meal clearly hit the spot.

And it warmed Rat.chet’s spark. Seeing the other smile in between bites is enlightening, filling Rat.chet with pride at providing such a relaxing meal. Everything about this felt cozy and right. It was as if time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was this shared meal. Yes, there were still issues at hand, like the ongoing war. But right now, all that mattered was seeing Opti.mus enjoying the hearty meal.

And when the spoon clinked in an empty bowl, Rat.chet’s belly grumbled, not fully satisfied. His servo gave the swollen plating a pat as he rested back in his chair. He was getting full, but the beast demanded more. And if he kept this up, his plating would need to be readjusted much sooner than anticipated.

“Sounds like someone wants seconds.” Opti.mus smiled and winked. “Allow me this honor.” More scoops of buttery mashed phosphophyllite were scooped onto the plate, followed by a heaping amount of beef stew. The medic licked his lips in anticipation. His stomach happily grumbled. “Eat up, old friend.”

“Save enough for yourself. Don’t let me gobble this entire meal up.”

“I have had my fill.” His smile was broad and genuine. “You enjoy yourself.”

That second plate tasted just as good as the first. Bite after bite, the warm, homey meal disappeared into his mouth. The juice from the stew mixed perfectly with the fluffy mashed potatoes, creating such a delicious taste to grace his palette. That belly gurgled happily as the mesh swelled against the plating, creating that enjoyable, cozy sensation. Nothing stopped more from entering- at least not until the dish was emptied again.

“Ready for thirds?” Opti.mus smiled and reached for the serving spoon, but the medic held his servo up.

“Not this time.” The medic grumbled, then quickly stifled a belch. “I have to save room.”

“Room?” Pr.imes optics scrunched. “For what?”

“Dessert.” Rat.chet grinned as Opti.mus chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d leave out the best part, did ya?”

master post

[mcflymemes]

PRIDE & PREJUDICE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2005 film

you must know... surely, you must know it was all for you.

are you out of your senses?

we've been nonsensical!

i have struggled in vain and i can bear it no longer.

are you rejecting me?

did i just agree to dance?

makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?

you really do love him, don't you?

i appreciate the struggle you have been through, and i am very sorry to have caused you pain.

you're wasting your time with me.

count your blessings.

don't look at me like that!

only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony.

i'm very fond of walking.

no, i prefer to be unsociable and taciturn.

may i have the next dance?

these past few months have been a torment.

i wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?

my brother gave it to me.

i have never been thus treated in my entire life.

do you talk, as a rule, while dancing?

so this is your opinion of me.

i had to see you.

it's been many years since i had such an exemplary vegetable.

oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.

i've been so blind.

i've come to tell you the news.

oh, very well then.

i must ask you to leave immediately.

you have insulted me in every possible way.

not all of us can afford to be romantic.

i could not have parted with you to anyone less worthy.

i will never see you again if you do.

he looks miserable, poor soul.

yes. a thousand times yes.

i will not and certainly never shall.

i thought that poetry was the food of love.

you are too generous to trifle with me.

all of these things i am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.

there's a lot to be thankful for.

don't you dare judge me.

i don't understand.

thank you for explaining so fully.

now tell me once and for all: are you engaged to him?

if your feelings are still what they were last april, tell me so at once.

have you no objection other than your belief in my indifference?

believe me, it was unconsciously done.

what a shame, for i dearly love to laugh.

and those are the words of a gentleman.

my affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.

you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love... i love... i love you.

i love you.

i cannot tease you about that.

forgive me for taking up so much of your time.

how are you this evening, dear?

is this your reply?

they are far too easy to judge.

i do not have the talent of conversing easily with people i have never met before.

i thought you hated the man.

will that make you happy?

we're doing our best to find a fault in you.

i never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

i wish you would not call me "my dear."

perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice?

what endearments am i allowed?

please, do be seated.

one of these days, someone will catch your eye and then you'll have to watch your tongue.

people do not die of colds.

i was wrong. i was entirely wrong.

are you too proud? and would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?

this is a charming house.

i am well acquainted with you.

please do me the honor of accepting my hand.

what do you recommend to encourage affection?

what should i call you when i am cross?

are you... are you laughing at me?

i can admire you much better from here.

shall i call for some tea?

i cannot believe that anyone can deserve you.

i love you. most ardently.

good day. it's been a pleasure.

i have no idea.

did you walk here?

let us take a turn about the room.

it is a small kind of accomplishment, i suppose.

will you not join us?

i've never seen so many pretty girls in my life.

she is the most beautiful creature i have ever beheld.

why do you ask such a question?

what have you discovered?

we are all fools in love.

i have other reasons. you know i have.

i do not deny it.

[plethomacademia]

I was thinking about how March is kind of a cool month while taking a shower and ended up developing a full ranking of each month from the perspective of the mid atlantic US, this ranking is based on my values which are food good, light good, nature neat:

From best to worst!

August: objectively the best food month for where I live. All the food of high summer is at its best and I eat like a king. Cicadas sing in the day. Katydids rock me to sleep.

September: almost as good as August, but has less light. The beginning of autumn food mixing with the high summer food, the first of the wool festivals in the area. Very good.

June: this is the time of year in my area when you can get 5-6 varieties of berries, all fresh, all delicious. I usually go berry picking in this month and almost die from heat, but I fill my freezer with perfect black raspberries. Has the most sun, what a great month.

October: A fantastic month. The only part of fall that is good. Some of the best outdoor activities, resulting in weekend after weekend of going outside and just smelling the amazing air. Just starting to cool down, but not that dark yet. The last month of true happiness in the year before The Dark.

July: almost as good as August and June, but missing some of the uniqueness. Usually when the fireflies really pop off though, so that rules.

March: a month where you finally start seeing some relief. Snowdrops bloom, woodcocks make their meep noise, salamanders and frogs emerge. Everything wakes up, the equinox happens, and finally, finally, it feels like winter is dead.

May: pretty good month for my growing region! This is when the farmers markets come back and the vegetables start to diversify. This is when I usually get to plant my starter plants and start hanging out on my porch with my parrots.

April: only this far down because others are better. This is when the birds start to come back and some of my favorite trees bloom. It sadly is also when some of my least favorite plants bloom, like the bradford pear. Usually just a point where I am ready to move on to May.

November: garbage month. Everything is dead, all the birds are gone, the farmers markets are closing. November is when the world starts to hibernate, except we don't get to hibernate, we have to keep going to work and making money. Thanksgiving is barely a holiday. Daylight savings time ends. Just bad times.

February: this is the month where the light starts to return, which is why it ranks this high, otherwise it would be tied with December. This is the part where I start looking at the calendar and counting how many weeks until the sun sets after 5:30pm, 6pm, etc. Hanging on by a thread but there is Hope.

December: the darkest. I rarely get off work before it is fully night. I am not religious, so the holidays do not do much for me, but it ranks above January because at least my work slows down and people take time off. Truly, just a bad time all around.

January: the Fucking Worst. Even having my birthday in it cannot save this month. Still dark, colder than the month before it, still so far from the equinox. People get really annoying about Eating Clean and Dry January and all you can do is find a blanket and try to get through it.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Andy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 2.7k

summary: you and Spencer have to learn to deal with grief without losing your marriage in the process.

warnings: grief, death, angst with unhappy ending, separation, divorce, alcoholism, minor details of a murder, two totally different points of view (don't hate Spencer or the reader)

The set of keys jangled in Spencer's hands, who was struggling to open the door without dropping the shopping bags in his other hand. He tried to do the shopping with only healthy and non-hazardous things and lately he had started bringing some of your favorite sweets, hoping this might cheer you up in some way. 

When he entered, he assumed that you were asleep, as always, so he thought of going directly to the kitchen to place the food in the corresponding spaces, thinking that maybe after that he would clean up the place a bit. He never expected to find you sitting in the dining room and both of you were startled to see the opposite. There was half a bottle of wine in front of you, you were puffy-eyed and carefully holding a photo that Spencer recognized perfectly. He noticed that you had lost some weight and you noticed the same characteristic in him, coupled with the marked bags under his eyes that evidenced the lack of rest. But in fairness, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while.

"What are you doing here?"

“I brought groceries,” he reported, though it was obvious. Spencer reached over to the fridge to rearrange things and he noticed that almost all of last week's food were there. The milk was out of date, some of the vegetables were blackened, and there were a couple of bottles of alcohol that he definitely hadn't bought for you but always turned up there. He brought the garbage can closer and began to get rid of the rotten food, replacing it with the contents of the bags. "You have to eat something, there are things in here that you didn't even touch."

“And that's why I insist that you don't bring so much. Don't waste your money”

“It's not about the money. It's about you” he said in a stern voice and when he turned to look at you, he noticed that you weren't even looking at him.

He continued to organize things in the fridge while out of the corner of his eye he watched you take occasional gulps straight from the bottle. Before, it was the task of both of you to put the purchases in the cupboards and it had become a habit, because he liked to make you suffer with the high spaces of the cupboard just to accommodate things himself and take the opportunity to steal a kiss, which you always complained about.

He was so lost in memories that he couldn't understand you when you muttered something and then he asked you to repeat it.

"We promised to take him to Disneyland," you said, your slurred words a clear sign of drunkenness. You were holding a picture of Andy's 6th birthday: he was blowing out the candles while you and Spencer held him on either side, grinning from ear to ear. You had bought some green party hats, Andy's favorite, for the three of you to wear and the cake was a dinosaur, your son's absolute obsession “Somehow he found out they were going to have a Cretaceous world attraction and he was dying to go. We told him that when we had vacations, we would take him and to comfort him we bought him an illustrated book."

He perfectly remembered what you were telling him and a lump formed in his throat. That book was kept carefully on the small shelf in his room, along with the figures that multiple people had given him and with which he loved to play, since neither of you had had the heart to move a single object that was there.

Spencer was silent because he simply didn't know how to respond to what you had just reminded him, but he couldn't help but his stomach turned at the thought of your little boy. Although two months had passed, he hadn't even allowed himself to talk about what happened, and very rarely did he think about your son. Not because he didn't want to do it, but because he felt that if he did, things were going to completely collapse and he wasn't in a position to let that happen, not when he had so many responsibilities to fulfill.

Receiving no response, you tried to drink again, but Spencer didn't take more than a second to cross over to you to take the wine from your hands.

"Stop"

"Give it to me," you defended, standing up to try to take your drink back, but he held it just far enough out of your reach.

"You cannot continue that way"

"That's none of your business"

“Of course it is. You are my wife and I care about you."

Spencer hated the way you looked at him since that night. He felt that you were looking at him with contempt, as if he wasn't even worth your eyes on him, as if you had stopped loving him completely. And now you were looking at him like that while he was holding the alcohol you'd been drowning in for the past few weeks. 

"I don't need your pity" you practically spat, standing in front of him, but at a safe distance.

He didn't want to answer anything, for fear of hurting you in some way, so he just went to the sink to start emptying the contents of the bottle. Of course you squealed in offense at what he was doing and just headed for the fridge to get something else to drink, but before you could Spencer got in the way.

"You need help" he murmured, with a tone that reflected nothing more than the desperation he was going through. You looked at him, from below, with the same disdain that completely broke his heart "You are not okay"

"How do you expect me to be okay? I lost my son"

"He was our son," he said, suddenly sounding quite angry. It was so rare for him to get angry, much less when it came to you, but these two months had been too much to bear "Do you think I don't suffer the same as you?"

"No, I honestly don't think so. We never talked about this, Spencer, we just cried profusely at the funeral and then you carried on like nothing happened. All this time you have seemed so calm that I doubt very much that it will affect you”

“You are so wrong. You don't even know what you're talking about. Do you think it's easy for me? I have to go and work in a place where I see murderers and dead bodies all the time so that both of us can eat, pay the mortgage and basically keep our economy afloat because you decided to sink into depression and drink like a barrel without background"

“Oh, do you really want to talk about addiction problems? Because I don't think you're the best fit for that."

"Unlike you, I have not relapsed"

"Okay, then forgive me for being a weak dueling drunk."

“It's not about that, it's about the fact that you don't want anyone to help you. I hired a therapist that you decided not to go to, I have bought you everything you need in recent weeks, I have even stopped sleeping in my own house, all so that you feel calm”

"I never asked you for that, don't justify with it the fact that you wanted to leave"

"Well, maybe I left because every time I come here to check on you, you ignore me and look at me as if it was all my fault"

"Maybe it was"

"What did you say?"

"I said maybe it was" you exclaimed, now a little louder to make sure he heard you. You didn't mean any of that, you really didn't, it was just all the alcohol speaking for you “It was yours and it was my fault that man took our son from us. We should have done more"

“How, Y/N? Please explain to me how you want that, because I honestly don't understand you."

"Well maybe I should have been a better mother, because if I had been I should be dead instead of him" at this point it was useless to try to stop your crying. You were tired, dizzy, and hurt. You just wanted the whole nightmare to end “Spencer that man killed Andy just because you provoked him and you know it perfectly. He wanted revenge on you and decided that the best way to do it was to kidnap an innocent child and then kill him and then simply throw him on the side of the road. He could have hidden the body, but he wanted you to find it. He wanted us both to know that we couldn't question him like that without suffering the consequences."

"And that's why you see me as the cause of all your suffering?" tears had also started to roll down the man's cheeks, who was just as bad at holding them back as you were “Y/N I had to go identify Andy's body. I had to see him in a morgue, bruised and…” suddenly his voice broke completely. He had never told you things because he didn't want to stress you out anymore, but he felt that after everything that was happening there was no point in continuing to protect you “I barely knew it was him. He was completely deformed, I only recognized him by that scar he got on his knee when he fell from the swings and as soon as my fingers passed through it and felt the frozen skin I was completely destroyed. I had… I had to see my little boy in that state just so we both would have peace and yet you dare to say that I don't care."

“If you didn't have that job none of this would have happened to begin with! That has always been the problem, that as a family we had to compete with your work as a profiler”

"So you expected me to give up my life's work overnight?"

"I did. I quit my job to be able to raise our son.”

"And I had to stay in mine to be able to give him everything he needed"

“And look at us now. What of that did we do well? We weren't good parents and now I don't even think we're a good couple”

You two knew that this conversation was useless. You always knew Spencer went to superhuman lengths to spend time with your family, and you couldn't blame him for anything. He knew everything you had given up to take care of the housework and raise Andy. And when there were bad days, you were there for each other, but at that very moment you weren’t thinking straight. Your judgment was clouded by the pressing pain that was building up.

 “Y/N, why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounded so sincere and wounded, that even with the unconsciousness caused by the alcohol you felt a pull in your heart. Spencer was silent for a moment, a lump in his throat, and when he finally got up the courage he spoke again, “When Andy died I thought… I was devastated. I am devastated. But even with everything I thought that… I thought that I still had you. I thought together we could get through this and now you're telling me you're not even sure this is working. I try to take care of you, but you refuse to eat, you refuse to go to a therapist, you drink and sleep all day and I don't know what else to do."

"I just want you to be here, Spencer."

"I am"

"No, it's not true"

“I am supporting you, I do everything in my power to make sure you are well”

“But I don't want you to take care of me like someone sick, I just want you to be my husband! I just want you to stop pretending nothing is happening, just sit here and cry with me... I don't want you to support me, I want you to love me”

Both of you looked at each other for a second, your vision blurred by accumulated tears.

“Every day I wake up and I am strong just because I love you. You are the one who seems to no longer love me"

How could things work when the two of you offered such different things and needed such different things? Spencer thought you didn't love him anymore, you thought he didn't love you anymore, and neither of you knew what to do about it. You wanted him to be there but not the way he did and that's why you pushed him away. He walked away because he thought you didn't want him with you anymore.

But those were things none of you understood, and probably no one could. Mourning was a complicated, heartbreaking, but above all confusing process.

And, as much as he evaded reality, Spencer knew that it was a matter of time before you two broke up permanently. He knew the statistics; he knew that a large number of couples divorced after the death of a child and the numbers were more decisive than his hopes of maintaining the marriage with you. So, if these were the conversations you guys were having at one of the few times you saw each other, perhaps the threat of disbandment was closer than he imagined.

Suddenly the ringing of your husband's phone rang and you could tell by the look on his face what kind of text it was.

"A case" you guessed bitterly "It's always a case, right?"

A part of you desperately hoped that he would ignore the message, come up to you with an apology, and tell you that he would stay right there with you. But the utopian version your mind created didn't look like the real situation at all, where he just gave you a pained look from behind those teary eyes.

"I promise I'll be back. I'll come and… we can talk about all this when we're calmer. We can try to fix it, things don't have to be that way."

“But that's how they are,” you muttered, shrugging, as another message rang on Spencer's phone.

You wanted to tell him that if he really wanted to make things right with you he'd send the FBI to hell and stay there to talk, but you held back because you simply thought it was useless to do that. You were tired, so you were just going to let it go; you told him to come back whenever he wanted, without much interest in when that would be, and new dizziness hit your head from the decision you had just made.

You didn't push him away when he approached to hold your face, with a softness that surprised you, and he left you a kiss on the forehead, one of those you'd received thousands of but now it felt so strange to share.

The case dragged on into the next day, and the entire time Spencer pondered your words. Maybe he was right about some things, but you are right about others too. Perhaps if you tried to understand each other things could improve and if both of you reached an agreement little by little you would return to being a married couple and not just two people going through the loss of a child. It was worth stopping avoiding the problem and facing it to be able to be not only with you, but also for you. 

When he got home, the silence made him think that you were resting, and he still wanted to be able to lie next to you to simply hug you without saying anything. In a matter of a few seconds, so many nights passed through his mind in which he had loved you, in which you had feared and he had protected you, and those in which you had been immensely happy talking for hours until the sun bathed your face. You hadn't shared a decent kiss since Andy's funeral and suddenly the need to taste your lips became urgent, not to satisfy itself but to tell you how much he loved you. He had been an idiot these months, too busy not to break down to realize what was falling around him.

But upon reaching the room and turning on the light, all his hopes were shattered by a half-empty closet, a bed without you and a letter resting on the nightstand.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14