#giant yard games

[icewindandboringhorror]

more photo diary posts.. various life images...

[waledxman123]

Saquon Barkley’s Record-Breaking Performance Bolsters NFL MVP Hopes in Week 12

The NFL’s Week 12 action provided no shortage of highlights, but Saquon Barkley’s stunning performance stood out as a defining moment in the race for the league’s Most Valuable Player (MVP) award. Barkley, the dynamic running back for the New York Giants, delivered a jaw-dropping display of skill, determination, and leadership that not only fueled his team’s victory but also solidified his status as a top contender for MVP honors this season.

A Day for the Record Books

In a pivotal matchup against a fierce division rival, Barkley etched his name in the record books with a career-high performance. The versatile back amassed over 250 all-purpose yards, including 185 rushing yards and three touchdowns. His ability to evade defenders, exploit gaps in the defense, and maintain composure under pressure left fans and analysts alike in awe.

read more in google news

One of the highlights of the game was a 75-yard touchdown run, where Barkley showcased his unparalleled blend of speed, agility, and vision. This play epitomized his dominance on the field and served as a reminder of why he was a highly-touted draft pick.

Barkley’s Impact on the MVP Race

The MVP conversation has often been dominated by quarterbacks, but Barkley’s consistent excellence this season has redefined expectations. He has been the cornerstone of the Giants’ offense, accounting for a significant portion of their scoring and yardage. His ability to deliver in crucial moments, as evidenced by his Week 12 heroics, sets him apart from other candidates.

read more in google news

Barkley’s performance also comes at a time when traditional MVP frontrunners, including quarterbacks, have faced inconsistency. Analysts argue that Barkley’s contributions as both a runner and receiver make him a more versatile and impactful player than many of his peers.

Giants’ Playoff Hopes

Barkley’s dominance has also rejuvenated the Giants’ playoff hopes. With his leadership on and off the field, the team has rallied to secure critical wins, including the Week 12 triumph. As the season progresses, Barkley’s ability to sustain this level of performance will be vital in keeping the Giants competitive in a tight NFC playoff race.

A Historical Perspective

If Barkley were to win the MVP award, he would join an elite group of running backs who have achieved this honor. The last non-quarterback to win the MVP was Adrian Peterson in 2012, following his own historic season. Barkley’s ability to dominate in a quarterback-centric league underscores the significance of his candidacy.

read more in google news

Looking Ahead

With five weeks remaining in the regular season, all eyes will be on Barkley as he continues to make his case for MVP. The Giants’ upcoming schedule includes tough matchups that will test his resilience and consistency. Should he maintain this trajectory, Barkley has the potential to become one of the rare running backs to break through in the MVP race in recent years.

Final Thoughts

Saquon Barkley’s Week 12 performance was a masterclass in athleticism and determination. As he propels his team forward and captivates football fans worldwide, his name is becoming synonymous with excellence this season. Whether he secures the MVP title or not, Barkley’s impact on the game is undeniable, and his Week 12 outing will be remembered as a turning point in an already illustrious career.

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 18

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: extremely soft

A/N: An epilogue to end our story, I'll reblog later with all of my thank yous. For now, this final chapter is dedicated to @mrsmando ❤ and her big giant heart, for whom this story wouldn't exist without.

Series Masterlist

-

FIVE YEARS LATER 

“Honey?”

Placing his keys on the table in the entryway, Joel tilts his head to the side and listens. Silence greets him instead, but it’s a warm one. Peaceful.  

Sunlight streams through the open windows in the living room, and he walks through the beams of soft light towards the back of the house, passing through a scene of domestic disarray: a blanket tossed over the couch, toys scattered on the living room floor, small shoes that he bartered for last week kicked off and tossed on the stairs. Bending down to scoop them up with a sigh, he carries them into the kitchen. Placing them on the table, he looks around for any sight of you. 

The backdoor ajar, he heads into the backyard. 

“Honey?”

“Yea?”

Calling to him from the middle of the garden, he spots you with a smile – right as a small body crashes through the bushes with a shriek. Running straight for him, Joel automatically holds his hands out to catch June, but she looks behind her and screams, dodging his reach instead. Another child comes through and then another; a game of tag that’s crossed borders between the houses. 

“Hey! Stop runnin’ through! Just go around em’!”

You stand from your place in the garden, picking your way carefully through the sprouting plants. Your face and shoulders come into view first, and then your stomach – the soft swell only just beginning to show. At the sight of it, he visibly softens and comes over to help you, lending you his hand. 

“You sound just like a cranky old man,” you tease, brushing the dirt from your knees. Looking up at him with a squint against the sun, you grin and mime shaking a fist. “Stay off my lawn!”

“Well I am an old man,” he says wryly, defending himself. “Besides, all I need is for a kid to get hurt bustin’ through those bushes like that.”

He looks over his shoulder and surveys the damage for a moment; the squall of children slightly muted from the front yard. Bringing his eyes back to you, he steps closer and reaches for your bump, splaying his touch over it. 

“How we feelin’ today?”

“Oh god,” you answer with a sigh. “Tired.” 

Letting your head drop forward, you rest it on his shoulder. His hands glide smoothly from your stomach to your hips, encouraging you to lean into him and you do, pressing your cheek against his chest. Warmth radiates through the material of his shirt, and you close your eyes and breathe him in. Sunshine, sweat, the faint smell of the stables and the horse he rode today while on patrol lingers in the fabric, and your body relaxes against his. 

“How was your day?” you murmur. 

“Good. Tommy n’ Maria wanna know if we can come over for dinner this week. Guess she’s been askin’ for that dessert you made last time, wants to know if you can bring it over again. What was it called?”

“Brown sugar pie.” You burrow even closer against him, and his arms slip around your back in an embrace. 

“That’s the one.”

“I think I have everything I need for it. I can do that.”

“I told him I would let em’ know tomorrow. Got patrol with him again at dawn.”

You look up at him with a pout. “So early again?”

He says nothing, bending to press his mouth to your forehead. 

“I miss you in bed when you leave so early in the morning.”

His kiss drops lower, catching your nose.  

“You know I like curling up next to you. You’re like a human furnace.”

The edge of his mouth lifts. “I know, I like it too. But duty calls and all that.”

Presenting your lips for a kiss, he grants a lingering, full press of his mouth to yours and then pulls back. 

“You need me to carry anything into the house?”

“I don’t need that kind of help just yet,” you reply. 

He puts his hands up in defense with a smirk, taking a step back. “Just askin’”.

You wave him away, turning back towards the garden and he turns to head into the house, calling over his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna take a shower. Is he sleepin’ inside?”

“Yes,” you call back. “Try to be quiet when you go in. He kept me up most of the night, so I know he’s tired too.”

Nodding, he catches the screen door before it smacks the frame behind him and quietly heads upstairs.  

The bedroom is scattered with the same lived-in mess that downstairs is: the quilt thrown back over rumpled sheets, his sweats on the floor, a scatter of items on the dresser. Reaching over his head, he tugs his shirt off in a smooth motion, and tosses it on the bed before sitting down with a soft groan, bending forward to unlace his boots. 

His bare back is littered with long ago healed scars, one of them pulling tight across his flank. Sitting up with a stretch, he rubs at it with his hand, the muscle underneath sore from so much time spent in the saddle. Heading into the bathroom, he tosses the rest of his clothes into the laundry basket and steps into the shower, letting the water beat down on his lower back.

Four years in, and he still lets out a sigh of appreciation every time. 

Done and dressed in fresh clothes, he pads around the bedroom in bare feet gathering the rest of the laundry. A mix of his and yours, a threadbare blankie that needs washing, a sleeper on the dresser. Tossing it all into the basket, he goes into June’s room to do the same. 

Picking up the small guitar she plays with while he practices on his own, he places it carefully against the corner of the wall and gathers the laundry she’s left at the foot of the bed. The room reflects the girl herself: purple walls, drawings taped up on every surface, a butterfly suncatcher that hangs in her window scattering rainbows over the floor. 

Hearing muted babbles from the next room over, Joel grabs a shirt off the floor before heading over to the closed door. Opening it, he’s greeted with a grin. 

“Hey big guy," he says lowly, setting the basket on the floor, peering over the side of the crib. Built by Joel shortly after you arrived in Jackson, he thumbs at the mending it needs on the corner, thinking about how it’ll need to be moved into the bedroom in about five months. 

Still puffy with sleep, the boy’s face resembles yours so much that Joel’s eyes crinkle with affection. “You ready to get up?”

One hand holding the basket and the other one dangling to let his son grasp it, they slowly navigate the stairs together, entering the kitchen just as June comes through the back door with you right behind her. 

“Someone woke up, I see,” you coo, scooping the toddler into your arms. 

“You done playin’ tag, June Bug?” Joel asks, squeezing her shoulder. 

“Yea. The other kids had to go home for lunch. Can you make me something to eat, Daddy?”

Routine takes over, the afternoon sliding into the evening, twilight descending around the house. The picture window in the front is a beacon of light; figures moving around inside. Dinner, playtime, bathtime. A freshly bathed June and Henry – Hank, for Hank Williams – in Joel’s lap on the couch while he reads them a book, the gentle clink of dishes being washed sounding from the kitchen.

After the kids are tucked in for the night, you find him on the porch. Pulling his flannel tight around your torso, you take a seat next to him and he wordlessly drapes his arm across your shoulders, tucking you close. Handing him a well worn mug with an owl on it, he hums with approval when he discovers the whiskey inside. 

“I saw the midwife today,” you say, spreading your fingers over your bump. “She said everything looks good so far, and gave me something for the heartburn.”

“Is it still real bad?” he asks, and you nod. 

“She says that it’s a sign it’s gonna be a girl,” you smile at him, shrugging. “I don’t remember having it too bad with June though, so who knows.”

Watching your fingers smooth your shirt over the small bump with a rub, the action moves in time with the slow rocking of the bench. Another sip of whiskey, and Joel thinks about how much has changed between then and now: a fleeting image of your younger face, a picture of a river, a cabin just beyond.

The comfortable silence between the two of you lets his mind continue to roam, the memories coming in flashes: the trek across the country, the simultaneous relief and on-edge anxiety he felt when the walls surrounding Jackson first came into view. A familiar voice calling through the fog, one he thought he’d never hear again. Favoring his left side due to a deep gash still healing from an encounter with raiders, warmth slipped from his eyes as he clutched his brother tight, unwilling to let go. 

The same brother he saw just this morning, and who he’ll see again tomorrow. 

“You’re so different than the guy I left all those years ago,” his brother said later on, and Joel had said nothing, just lacing his fingers with yours. 

He is different. 

The years have softened him around the edges, or maybe the kids have. Or maybe it’s you.  

Relaxing into him, his cheek comes to rest on the top of your head.

“You tired, honey?”

“Yea.” The word slips out, the edges rounded. “But keep rocking me?”

Fireflies spark and dance in the air, the wisps of a song caught on the wind from the neighbor playing their radio next door. Your profile is highlighted with the softened light from inside, your cheeks plump with health and happiness and enough food, the frown lines from ever present anxiety smoothed away years ago. He gently collects the soft hair at your temple with a soothing stroke and your eyes flutter shut. 

His boot pushing off the wooden floorboards of the porch, he rocks and presses a kiss to the crown of your hair, letting the gratefulness pass through him. 

The old life feels like a dream, or maybe this is the dream – with a wife sitting safe and sound beside him, on the porch of a home filled with his children. 

Everything possible because you imagined it possible. Everything here because of you.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, and you nod, not moving. 

The edge of his mouth lifting in a smile, he tucks you in closer and rocks.

THE END

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Amor

Summary: After a bad day at work, coming home to his family makes Javi realize his day wasn't so bad after all

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Tooth rotting, sickening, fluff 😩😭 Allusions to smut, breeding kink, dad!Javi needs his own warning bc oh my GOD (more specifically, girl dad!Javi...) (*Also general spoiler warning if you don't want to read NTL out of order!*)

A/N: Y'ALL. I told you the dad!Javi brain rot was UNREAL. After writing this, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to stop writing for dad!Javi ever and I'm not even sorry about it 🤷🏼‍♀️ Don't mind me casually screaming from the rooftops about how much I am obsessed him okay BYE 🤪

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the NTL universe!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Shitty. 

There were a lot of words Javi could have used to describe how his day at work had gone. 

At 9:30, after his weekly phone call with border patrol, who provided him with little to no helpful information, the word would have been annoying. 

At 11:15, after Agent Miller knowingly jammed the copier and left it for someone else to fix, leaving Javi with no way to make any copies, the word would have been frustrated. 

At 3:40, after his department meeting with the other Sheriff’s Offices from the county, none of whom came prepared, as usual, the word would have been angry. 

And now, at 6:15, after a spilled afternoon coffee, a giant stack of paperwork that had been thrown on his desk, and a pounding headache, the word to describe his day was nothing short of shitty. 

Throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, cranking the AC up and the volume of his car radio to zero, Javi sat in his truck, silently brooding in his moodiness to sulk in the misery that had been his absolutely shitty day. 

The rest of his drive home was the same as his pouting in the parking lot of the Laredo County Sheriff’s Department- no music, no windows down, no grin on his face like his usual drives home after work. Javi couldn’t remember a day at work this shitty since the DEA, and that in itself was saying something. 

As Javi pulled onto your street, dust swooshed beneath the bouncing of his truck tires along the gravel road, the sun just beginning to fade from its vibrant yellows and oranges to its soft pinks, beaming behind the clouds scattered throughout the September sky. The view was just enough to snap him out of his overbearing funk- the brightly colored sunset painted behind the view of your house and tiny, shadowed figures dancing in the driveway meant that nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Not frustrating colleagues, piles of paperwork, even spilt cups of desperately deserved coffee. The only thing that mattered to him now, were his 4 favorite people in the world, waiting for him to come home. The only thing that mattered was his family. 

Lucy was the first to notice Javi’s truck rolling down the driveway, immediately prompting the 4 of you to pause your soccer game that had been happening in the front yard, which, after your two year old had decided she wanted to get involved, had really turned into more of a match of “Chase Harper through the grass as she tries to run away with the soccer ball”. 

“Daddy’s home!” Lucy and Elliot squealed, bolting towards Javi’s truck as it finally reached a halt at the end of the driveway, prompting you to scoop up Harper and follow behind, knowing she would be just as thrilled to see her dad, even if her little legs couldn’t keep up with her older sisters' quite yet. The girls bounced in excitement, frantically waving at Javi as they waited for him to exit the car.

From the moment the driver’s side door was open, and both Javi’s feet were on the ground, Lucy and Elliot were wrapped around Javi’s waist, squeezing him with a love and affection that instantly eased every last bit of stress, melting away any remnants of the previous parts of his day. 

“Hi Daddy!” The girls giggled in delight as they latched tighter around their dad’s hip, the feeling instantly making him crouch down to their level and drape his arms around them, pulling them in as closely as he could in return.

“Hola, Pollitas.” (Hi, little chickens). The sigh Javi let out was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, hugging his girls just a little tighter and longer than normal, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let them go. 

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!” Elliot squealed, wriggling her little body in Javi’s grasp. 

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna crush us!” Lucy teased, both the girls bursting into laughter as Javi gave them one last squeeze before hosting them up, letting their little legs flail as he shook them in his grasp before setting them back down, pressing a soft kiss on each of their heads. 

“Crush my Pollitas? Never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javi teased back, making the girls roll their eyes. 

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harper cooed, outstretching her arms towards Javi as the two of you made it to the driveway, Javi immediately scooping her up from you and hosting her in the air, peppering her with little kisses across her body, making her squeal just as loudly as her sisters. 

“Mi mas pequeño amor (My littlest love).” Javi grinned, resting Harper against his hip as his little fan club had finally parted ways enough for you to greet your husband, gently cradling his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweet taste of him that felt like home. 

“Hi.” You smiled, pulling back just enough to see the sweet grin spread across his face before leaning back in for a hug, letting the warmth and scent of his body engulf you whole, making the grin on your face just as wide as his. “Long day?” You asked, still pressed against his chest, noting his arrival time back home was later than normal. 

“Not anymore.” He beamed, staring down at you with that tender gaze that still made you melt, even after all your years together. 

“Daddy, can I show you the picture I made you in art today? Please, please, please?” Lucy pleaded, once again wrapped around Javi’s hip, gently tugging at his shirt for his attention. 

“I made one, too!” Elliot interjected, crossing her arms in defiance, a shocked look on her face that her sister dared to leave her out of the art contribution about to be made to their dad. 

“Your little artists have been hard at work today.” You grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Peña house is going to soon be a nationally recognized museum for pictures of puppies, Daddy, and gorillas.” 

“Gorillas? That’s a new one.” Javi laughed, looking at you with a confused tilt of your head, your only response to shrug your shoulders in just as much confusion and amusement. 

“Mrs. Collins read us a book about them in library today! So I showed Elliot and Harper how to draw them!” Lucy beamed, proudly crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied nod. 

“I’m sure they’re amazing, mi amor (my love), gorillas and all.”  

“Alright goobers, now that Daddy’s home it’s time for dinner, why don’t you go clean up the rest of your art stuff and we can show Daddy your pictures before we eat.” You smiled, Javi gently setting Harper back on the ground, only to quickly be scooped back up again by Lucy, the 3 girls racing through the front yard and into the house, giggling and screeching in excitement the whole way there, leaving you and Javi watching your daughters dash across the driveway. 

Once the girls were out of sight, Javi’s hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips as he tugged you in closer, making your rest your hands on his broad chest as he kissed you, now making you giggle as he grabbed an unexpected handful of your ass, giving it a playful smack as you swatted at him, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood for having a shitty day at work.” You smirked, biting down on your lip as you raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. 

“How’d you know I had a bad day at work?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion, hand still gripped tightly around the small of your back. 

“Because I know you like the back of my hand, Javier Jesús Peña. I could just tell. Plus, you always give those girls an extra big hug after a long day, since I know how much you miss them, even though you literally saw them this morning.” You snickered, lovingly nudging Javi before pressing another kiss onto his lips. 

“What? Like it’s a crime to miss my family while I’m stuck in terrible fucking meetings and doing shitty ass paper work all day? To wanna spend all my time with my beautiful daughters and their even more beautiful momma? Fine, guilty as charged, I guess.” Javi winked, gently tracing his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach, barley peeking out between your shirt and shorts. 

“Well I guess the five of us will all just head off to Peña prison together since we’re all guilty of missing you just as much.” 

“God, you’re such a dork.” He sighed, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the comfort of each other’s embrace, forever your favorite feeling. “Okay, we should probably get back in there before the munchkins get up to no good, huh? In addition to trying to teach Elliot and Harper how to draw gorillas, Lucy was also trying to teach them how to body check someone when they played hockey in the driveway.” 

“They are their mother’s daughters, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Plus, I apparently have some pictures of gorillas to go see.” Javi chuckled, reaching back to open the passenger side door of his truck to pull out his bag as the two of you headed back towards the house. 

“Well, if you needed something to make you feel better, looking at Elliot’s attempt at drawing you, her, Lucy and Harper riding on a purple gorilla while I chase you riding a rainbow gorilla will probably do the trick.” The two of you laughed, walking hand in hand to the front door, pausing one last time on your porch before entering back into the giggles and grins filling your home. “And if that doesn’t work, I bet after we put the girls to bed, I can think of something else that might help you feel better, too.” You smirked, eyeing Javi up and down with a mischievous grin spread across your face. 

“Yeah? You gonna let me give me baby number 4, huh Momma?” Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip, his eyes wide and smirk even bigger than yours. 

“Bold of you to assume the rainbow gorilla isn’t enough. Guess we do have an extra room to fill, don’t we?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before heading through the door, joining the girls in the kitchen, eagerly waiting with drawings in hand to show their dad. As Javi trailed behind you, greeted by the image of his wife and daughters gleefully gathered around the kitchen counter, waving their colorful papers at him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst at the seams, flooded with sense of love and comfort that he was convinced nothing else on this earth would ever be able to top. 

Even on the shittiest of days, Javi knew that nothing could really ever be that bad, knowing he would get to spend the rest of his life coming home to the 4 people in the world that made it all worth it. Knowing he would spend his forever surrounded by the love of his family.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

[delicatebarness]

The Barnes-Rogers Family Adventures | Peter's Birthday

Summary: The family throws a party for Peter's birthday.

Warnings: This post and series are safe for work (SFW) regressions. Nothing explicit. However, please be aware that the rest of my blog is NOT. NSFW accounts are welcome to read and reblog, but please keep all comments SFW out of consideration for other littles.

Word Count: 823

Series Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @uhmellamoanna - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | Let me know if you want to be tagged specifically for this series.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

The excitement in the air was palpable, especially as Peter’s birthday dawned bright and early. Bucky and Steve had been planning a special party for the mischievous one of their littles for weeks. Adorned with balloons, streamers, and a giant banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Peter!” the backyard was perfect for the event. 

Steve was busy putting the finishing touches on a homemade cake decorated with Star Wars characters, while Bucky set up party games on the patio. Trying to sneak a taste of the icing, you were stuck to Steve’s side. 

“Hey, no more icing, baby,” Steve gently scolded, catching your wrist mid-swipe. “We need to save some for the cake.” 

Giggling, your face was covered in blue and red frosting. “Okay, Papa.” 

Already bursting with excitement, Peter bounded into the kitchen. “Is it party time, yet?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Almost, buddy,” Bucky said, ruffling Peter’s hair as he entered to kitchen. “Want to come help me set up the last few things outside?” 

Nodding, Peter eagerly followed Bucky out to the backyard. A bounce house had been inflated and he had set up a table with snacks, drinks, and party favors. 

~

The backyard was soon filled with laughter and chatter of friends and family. Peter’s friends from the daycare and the Avengers compound came out with their respected caregivers. Mr Stark even brought over a drone that hovered around and took photos, and videos of the event. 

The littles played in the bounce house and ran around the yard for hours. Steve decided it was time to bring out the cake, and everyone gathered around to sing “Happy Birthday.” Peter’s little face lit up as he made a wish, blowing out the candles. 

“What did you wish for, Bubba?” You asked, your small voice mumbled over your pacifier. 

Peter grinned. “I can’t tell you, tiny! It won’t come true!” 

The cake was devoured in moments and it came time for presents. Eagerly tearing into brightly wrapped packages, Peter beamed at the Lego sets, Star Wars toys, and finger paintings from you. 

His face glowed with happiness as he exclaimed, “Thank you, everyone!”

~

As the sun started to set, the party began to wind down. Steve and Bucky started to clear up around the backyard. Gathering wrapped paper, discarded plates, and paper cups as you and Peter sat on the grass. You played together with Peter’s new toys and trinkets, enjoying the last moments of his day. 

It wasn’t long before you were tugging on Peter’s sleeve. “Sleepy,” you said, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. 

Peter looked around, his eyes searching for Steve and Bucky. “Do you want me to take you to Papa and Daddy?” he asked. 

You nodded, stifling a yawn.

He stood from his spot on the grass, taking your hand and leading you over to the patio. “Papa, Daddy, she’s sleepy,” he announced. 

Scooping you up, Bucky cradled you gently. “Let’s get you to bed, princess,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s been a long day.” 

Steve walked over and ruffled Peter’s hair. “How about… once Daddy has Tiny all settled in bed, the three of us watch a movie?” 

Peter’s eyes brightened with excitement as he nodded, running into the house and heading straight for the living room. 

~

Your head rested against Bucky’s shoulder as he climbed the stairs to your bedroom. As he helped you into your pajamas, you looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Did Bubba have a good birthday, Daddy?” 

Bucky smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “He had a wonderful day, Baby.” 

You murmured something inaudible as you nestled into your bed with your favorite wolf plush toy. Bucky tucked you in, turning on your night light and white noise machine.

“Sweet dreams, Baby,” he whispered as he pressed another kiss against your forehead. With a content sigh, you already began drifting off to sleep as he quietly left your room and closed the door. 

Meanwhile, Peter was sitting on the couch in the living room, flicking through the movies on Disney. Steve smiled as sat down for what felt like the first time all day, and opened his arms for Peter to climb into his lap. 

“Can we watch Star Wars?” Peter asked, his eyes sparkled at the hope. 

“Anything for the birthday boy,” Steve replied, gently taking the remote from Peter to locate the movie.

Bucky joined them shortly after, settling in beside Steve, draping an arm around him. He reassured Steve that you were settled and asleep before placing a kiss on top of Peter’s head. 

~

About halfway through the movie, Peter's eyelids drooped. The caregivers exchanged a knowing look as they listened to his soft snores. Steve gently shifted Peter so he was resting more comfortably against his chest. 

“We did good today,” Bucky said softly. 

Steve nodded, a wide smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we did.”

---

Series Masterlist

[r0-boat]

Whb Kings as Monsters

Thank you @aet-tsu and @da-shrimping-station for the inspiration from your cute art and you're writing.

(I wanted to do them as pets but you two already got that covered so now they're monster hybrids just pretend they are your 'pets')

Sfw

Part 2 here with belphegor and Asmodeus

Satan

tiger hybrid/Weretiger! You saw this hybrid in the daytime while you were shopping, sitting at side, and the heat. His tail swishing, his shirt was off, trying to keep himself cool. His ears folded back. You walked inside the store, coming out with a bottle of water and some food, bringing it out to What you thought was the cat hybrid. He seemed to worry of you at first, but when he noticed you had food, His eyes widened, looking at the cooked chicken and back at you.

He looked pleased, His smile wide as he drank the water and ate the chicken. Poor thing must have been hungry! Well, you are so glad to feed a hungry mouth. That night, You heard scratching at your window; it was the hybrid from before! How the hell did he get here?! Did he follow you back????

It is now been one month, and the cat still will not leave. He plays idly on your bed, sleeping. You thought he was just a normal hybrid. However, you were greeted by something horrifying the next full moon. This hybrid was not a cat!!! You see that now. You now stare at the giant wear tiger now curled up on the floor of your living room. You thought this thing would kill you, but it has taken quite a liking to you. However, you are still getting used to the random temper tantrums, and your house getting destroyed because of it...

Despite being a tiger hybrid. He still acts like a cat. Laying in sunspots, making biscuits with your pillows(destroying them). He even brings you dead things mostly; it's a wild game. You hope to God he doesn't bring in a human corpse one day; your weretiger is just an oversized cat. Well, you don't know why you're surprised.

Satan is practically attached to your hip He goes wherever you go even to the bathroom. And you can't help but smile when your big cat starts to rubbing himself against you purring. When you stop petting him he demands you to keep petting him.

Mammon

A dragon, an ancient dragon waking from its slumber, its den filled to the brim with riches of the old world. Now here, as he walks among the humans using magic to make him appear human, He sees that this new world's wealth has changed drastically. He hungers for that wealth. However, he must lie low. With that, he comes to you bearing golden gifts, of course.

You are thinking that you haven't woken up yet. It's handsome man a suitcase full of solid gold bars coins and pearls asks to live with you and be yours. This man with a big grin swears that he can protect you. Dream or not, You are very much considering taking the money replacing all that furniture from Satan's rampaging is tiring.

The dragon's eyes widen when he spot it a familiar figure. Your cat boy (tiger) hisses immediately pouncing on the man. Even with the tiger's sharp terrifying clause It did nothing against the dragons almost indestructible golden scales. "I swear my friend you get shorter every time I see you!"the dragon laughs.

With his endless amount of wealth all of you move to a bigger house with a bigger yard. Mammon studies human money and how to acquire it. Mamon bellows in pride when he talks about his riches, and goes on and on about tell excited he is to add more wealth to his collection. And how he could take good care of you, His chosen master.

Since this time living with you, he has been liking you every day more and more, especially how tiny you are. He likes to pick you up and haul you around. Maybe he could even convince you to go flying with him.

Leviathan

A Naga, You're not sure why or how he's here. He just showed up in your garden. Underneath your wooden deck, He looks hurt. You finally have to lure him out with food.

He glares at you, and when you get close, he snarls, telling you to back away and don't touch him. But at the same time, he's the one who comes to you; he gets close, watching you intently. Even as he kisses and threatens to kill you, You try your hardest to tend to his wounds. Finally convincing him to let you touch and take care of him.

Over time, he slowly warms up to you. You notice how he gets possessive over You don't know much about monsters well except for dragons and were tigers. However, you did hear about Naga's being possessive over mates. But that shouldn't be right... How could this monster see you as his mate? He looks like he wants to kill you half the time.

Sometimes he has his whole body wrapped around you, trapping you in this coils, making sure no one else sees you but him. Keeping you like this calms him. Having you so close to him, like this, he feels like you were all his. Your warm human body is addicting to him.

Your other monsters hate him because he's practically claimed your room. Satan and him have brawls for your bed. And, of course, Mammon loves to provoke the Naga.

Beelzebub

Mothman/moth hybrid (hear me out): You heard a knock at your window. You see a handsome man with moth wings and antennae waving to you, giving you a wink, and gesturing at you to open the window. At this point, you are not surprised. Immediately opening the window. The first thing this winged man did was kiss you on the forehead and hug you. Next thing you know, your Levi tackles him to the ground, squeezing the lights out of him. He only stops when you tell him to.

Apparently, they know each other. As your are pissed off, Naga hides in your closet. You asked him how he found this place, And he said confidently, "I smelled you!" Moths find their mates by senses of smell. And he thought you smelled good, so obviously, you are his mate. You are not deterred by the fact that you already have three other monsters lined up for that title.

Beel Only shows up at night, leaving during the day sometimes; he's gone for days at a time. Only to just show up randomly, sometimes with random souvenirs as gifts. He is really good at blending into human society. They're already hybrids walking among the streets, and he does not need to do much.

He will always find you because no matter how bad his memory is he will always remember your scent.

Beel and Mammon, who are eager to learn about humans, Go out together. Beel teaches him all he remembers about humans. Sure, Beel and Mammon are no different parts of human societies, but they get along pretty nicely compared to the other two.

Lucifer

Vampire. He has already lived among the humans for quite some time. How you met him? Well, You haven't been out with people for a while now because of you certain somebody's usually chase them away, whether it be a friend or a date.

This person has already been your friend online and the two of you set up for a little date night. You thought it odd that he didn't order anything else but wine and drinks; however, He was paying for the meal, so you did not think anything of it.

Lucifer had no intentions with you in fact, he found you quite charming. He was not one of those vampires that lure people into their home as their prey; no, He is a doctor. If he needs blood bags, he will get blood bags without harming humans.

You got a little tipsy and he invites you to take you home. Forgetting about your four other things you agree... You're greeted at the door with a dragon with his arms crossed puffing out his chest a snarling yelling cat a hissing snake ready to pounce. And Beelzebub laying on your couch waving at you. Apparently, they know this vampire. Why does this keep happening?

Since you're already friends with his 'acquaintances' He drops the bombshell, which is honestly the most normal thing you've heard all week, that he is a vampire. Well, he is not ready to drink from you just yet (since he sees that as an intimate thing). He does drop by in his back form, which you had fun squealing over, and picking him up and petting him, which he reluctantly allows you to do.

[mxstellatayte]

next door kind of love.

warnings: none, just some childhood best friends to lovers and tooth-rotting fluff. make your dentist's appointments now yall.

growing up living next door to the sargeants was an interesting experience. your parents were friends, having bonded when logan's parents moved in a few months after your own parents had. then, a few years later, they had dalton. just over a month after dalton's first birthday, you came along, and then eight months after you, on new year's eve, logan was born.

the three of you were inseparable as you grew up. you'd accompany them to their races and they'd support you at your roller derby tournaments. they would find a new way to climb the tree in your back yard and you would set a time record for climbing that route. the three of you had more inside jokes than you could count, made up more backyard games than anyone could ever begin to comprehend, and trusted each other beyond the ends of the earth.

when the sargeants moved to switzerland, though, you were crushed. sure, their plan was to only stay for two years, but those two years started to feel like an unbearable eternity after just the first month.

"mama," you said, a bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your mouth, "i miss logie and dalt. when are they coming back?"

"not for a long time, honey. i'm sure they'll come visit, though. how about we call them and see how they're doing?"

your face lit up. "yeah! can we call them now? can we can we can we?"

your mother smiled and shook her head, the papers surrounding her full of confusing numbers and big words like "homeowner's insurance" and "disability pension application."

"maybe, honey. we'll have to see what time works for them. first, though, i need you to finish your lunch, strawberries and all. can you do that for me?"

"sure, mama."

lo and behold, two years had passed, and the sargeants were almost back to florida. your father had the idea of surprising them at the airport, so you'd made a giant sign that said "WELCOME BACK SARGEANTS!" in bright blue magic marker. after selecting a spot you deemed visible enough, you craned your neck every time a new flow of passengers exited, hoping to see your best friends. every time you caught a flash of what might've been one of them, your heart skipped a beat, but when you finally saw dalton, logan, and their parents, it felt like you were on the moon.

you mustered up as much air into your thirteen-year-old lungs as you could and screamed.

"DALTON! LOGAN!"

every head in the airport whipped around to you, but you couldn't care less. your two best friends were running full speed at you, suitcases abandoned with their parents, and you couldn't stop smiling. you're slammed by the tightest hug you've ever experienced and you might be seeing stars from your ribs being crushed but that doesn't matter when you finally have dalton and logan back with you in florida.

you're muttering so many "i missed you"s and "i couldn't wait to see you guys"s and "i have so much to tell you"s into them, and it feels like forever before you guys let go of each other.

"you guys ready to get out of here?"

when logan won the karting championship in 2015, you'd never screamed louder. you were the first person he looked for after the race and the person he hugged the tightest.

when you made it to the top roller derby league in your area, he was the first person to congratulate you, and he brought you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers- baby breath, white tulips, and jasmine.

as logan worked his way up through the different levels of formula racing, you'd always manage to stay up to all hours of the night to watch him race or even send him a simple "good luck" text.

when he told you he'd been admitted to the williams driver academy, you almost tackled him to the ground with how much force you hugged him with. "i'm so happy for you," you said, repeated like a mantra.

"and guess what?"

"there's more?" you pulled back from the hug, looking up at him.

"i get to do a post-season test drive in abu dhabi."

"what?!" the smile on your face is not only from pride, but now also shock. "lo, are you serious? that's amazing! when did you find out?"

"maybe..." he checks his watch, eyes looking up. "five minutes ago?"

"wait. did you tell your parents? and dalt?" he hesitates, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. you can't help but think, even for an instant, that it's... kind of cute?

"logan hunter sargeant, did you tell me before you told your parents?"

"i might have..." the scowl on your face deepens, and you pull away from him, remove the house slipper you're wearing, and whack him across the head with it.

"out of my house! go over to your own and tell your parents, your literal givers of life, that you're driving a fucking formula one car! out! out with you!" you wave him out of your front door and watch with a smile on your face as he runs back to his own home, laughing when he trips over himself and falls into the grass. a few minutes later, you hear dan and madelyn scream with joy.

"my best friend is going to drive a formula one car," you say to the wind. "holy shit."

a bit over a year later, when logan signs with williams to drive with them in 2023, he still tells you before his parents.

the tuesday after the austin grand prix, a new post on your private instagram account appears. its location is tagged as the circuit of the americas and the caption reads "one of the perks of your best friend being a formula 1 driver is getting to go to austin and get paddock passes for free. the other is getting to spend the weekend with your best friend."

in may of 2024, logan brings you to the miami grand prix. at the end of the race, you are the first person he looks for. you are the person he hugs the tightest. you are the person to tell him that it wasn't his fault that he crashed and he did everything he could. you are the person whose shoulder he cries into and the person who gently holds his face and wipes his tears away with your thumbs.

you are the person to stand on your tip toes to place a kiss to his lips, the salty taste of his tears reaching your own lips. you are the person he sees when he opens his eyes and, when you backpedal in the slightest bit, you are the person he pulls closer and kisses like he means it.

you are the only person that hears when he says that he's loved you since you surprised him at the airport when they came back from switzerland. you are the only person that hears him say that it's always been you that he's loved, that he's never seen anyone else besides you.

and he is the only one that hears you say that you love him, too.

[illusivedelights]

Call of Neighbors (König & Horangi Neighbors!AU)

Part 1

.....ok this one's really more for me. I just think they're both neat and I like 'em. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

They're roommates in this AU! But not in that way y'all. This house is a nightmare LOL.

König

He is either somehow the most unassuming giant of a man or the most unintentionally really awkwardly off-putting guy you're going to meet.

Honestly it's not intentional, he just kind of doesn't know how to act properly/is slightly tone deaf.

He's quiet for odd pauses because he's either trying to practice what he says in his head or he's overthinking it a little.

He honestly hides his social anxiety well if you get him to talk. He'll sound pretty confident when he speaks/can come off a little arrogant (but that's really his way of masking his anxiety. 'If I sound confident enough, they can't tell' mentality.).

It's a hard adjustment and can piss some off, but when you look underneath it, it has sound reasoning and sincerity.

Lot of folks find him either a bit tough to approach or deal because they don't want to go beyond the superficial and he's kind of got a not so good rep, but he's used to it.

Honestly the really old folks are probably the ones who understand him the best/look past all the nonsense. He finds comfort in it and looks after them in his own way.

People always assume the worst in what he's doing, but then they see he's actually just doing normal stuff. It's a bit of a running gag. ("OMG! He's totally getting ready to bury a body!!" Actually he's trying to rake this elderly neighbor's yard because she's in a lot of pain, he just forgot to let her know he was doing it, and also he's a dingus that just makes it look like that).

You're gonna know cause you're gonna see this oaf awkwardly hang around and look like he's trying to do something. (He is trying to approach you, he really just doesn't know how.) He wants to show off to you about all the cool things he knows and can do and will talk to you for what seems like ages. (But it can come off abrasive and strongly opinionated)

It's his way of saying he wants to spend time with you and likes you. (And dear God if you can make it past it, still like him and interact again, he's sold).

Hobbies

Housekeeping (Ok hear me out, he's a pretty clumsily dressed guy and joined the military at stupid young teen age; but I think people would complain and once he moved out, he was like oh.)

Cooking (He's not really happy with the quality of food/lack of food he wants, so he has a "Well I'll make it myself then"/"They can't make it like home")

Antique/ Item Hunting (He likes trying to find things that remind him of home or his childhood or fits a specific niche he enjoys).

Community Service (mostly helping the neighborhood. He likes keeping it nice and safe.......in more ways than one)

Competitive Games (He's kinda garbo though, but trying to get better. But he can't help but get competitive regardless. Heskindaasoreloserthough.)

General Perception

That One Creepy Big Guy Who Doesn't Talk a Whole Lot.

Big Guy

Terminator

Lovely Young Man/Strapping Lad (by the elderly folks he helps)

Horangi

Neighborhood's local really aggressive Korean man. He's not even angry most times, he just talks like that.

He just doesn't like wasting time, and in his mind time is precious for everyone so he just doesn't mince words and just wants to get to the point. ("Tell me what I need to do to fix it and I'll do it.")

This behavior can be misinterpreted, so people assume he's just being insufferable.

I think he's actually really popular with cranky old men because he can keep up with them, throw it back easily and they don't take any offense to it. Do not approach if they're all shooting the shit, the conversation is indeed insufferable. (Good men but Jesus, they can complain).

Didn't want to bother with the pain of fronting the cost of living fully by himself , so he approached König about it because honestly König isn't too much of a hassle to him.

Left to his own devices, he's doing side gigs a lot, so he's in and out a lot of times.

He is a good character foil to König being the way he is and they bring out very honest facets of one another by accident. If you wanna speed run seeing their personality, just hang out with the two of them.

People jokingly wonder if he's a K-Pop idol because he often wears his sunglasses and a face mask. (It actually kind of annoys him because he's trying to keep a low profile and it's also been said mockingly to him too many times.)

Despite not being home a lot, he's actually really tidy and a neat freak. He will get slightly exasperated by uncleanliness or if certain things aren't the way he wants it.

You'll know with him because you make him pause. He's pretty much snappy with everything, so if you actually make him go quiet and think, you got him hooked. This man's tone and actions will be a bit more.....deliberate in between his usual self.

He is actually surprisingly clingy but in the way of "I want to be around you a lot during my few free moments, even if it's not doing anything productive" You make him actually want to waste time.

Hobbies

Cars (I feel like he has a light fascination with cars and mechanics of it, probably a 'I don't have this so it's fascinating' note. He wouldn't want to own one, but he has appreciation for sports cars)

Boxing/Sparring (A way to get out some aggression at times and solitary so he doesn't have to worry about most things. Probably a meditative act)

Cleaning (Probably a habit of covering his tracks, and is just oddly really good at it)

Side Gigs (they're mostly legal, trying to stay on the up and up, old money making day habits die hard, he's the guy who knows a guy from these things)

General Perception

That One Angry Korean Prick

Loud Guy

Angry Idol

Mr. Sensitive (sarcasm)

Bonus: The Roommates' Dynamic

Obviously this one's a bit special because they share space. So, extra HC time!

At a surface level, you'll think they probably actually hate each other because of how aggressive they talk and seem to butt heads.

But in reality, it's just two really nitpicky and straightforward people bantering. Plus working in the line of field they do, they're just both solution oriented and way too comfortable using coarse language with each other. ("Why the HELL is your shit laying around on the floor?" "I literally just put it down, I'm cleaning the tabletops?" "YOU DON'T THROW IT ON THE GROUND." "IT WASN'T THROWN." etc.)

Despite how they are, nothing's ever done in genuine mean spirit. They're just honestly two guys who are bad at talking in different ways but they mean well ......in their own way.

König is definitely more of a homebody and the common areas are more of his style of decorating. They actually have somewhat similar tastes so it works out, but if you look closely you'll see bits of Horangi's flare. ("I'm hardly around. Decorate how you want.")

They're particular about cleanliness in their own different ways, so they clash.

Both are living in a place with no family/have no family, so they're each other's emergency contacts.

It's definitely more of a roommate/coworker you live with situation. They don't actually have many hobbies they share.

They kind of keep each other in check honestly.

OK I FEEL THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THIS POST. IF ANYONE ELSE WANNA KNOW MORE JUST IDK. ASK. OR ILL POST ANOTHER LATER.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter Six

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.9k

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The scent of grilled burgers and hotdogs drifts through the park, mingling with the laughter of your coworkers. You balance a paper plate loaded with potato salad and coleslaw as you navigate toward a picnic table where a few familiar faces are gathered.

"Hey, look who finally made it," Brian says, grinning as he shifts to make space for you. He’s got mustard on his cheek, which makes his wide smile even more ridiculous.

"Yeah, had to dodge Karen's eternal checklist of picnic rules," you reply, dropping onto the bench. You take a bite of coleslaw, savoring the tangy crunch.

Lucy nudges your shoulder with her own. "You should've seen her earlier. She practically interrogated me about the potato chips."

Brian snorts. "She takes this stuff way too seriously. It's a picnic, not a corporate takeover."

From across the table, Sam raises an eyebrow. "At least she hasn't cornered you about the recycling bins yet."

"Not yet," you say, shaking your head. "But it's still early."

The conversation flows easily, jumping from weekend plans to the latest office gossip. You listen, half-interested, while keeping an eye on Karen. She’s currently directing the setup of a volleyball net with all the intensity of a military operation.

Lucy follows your gaze and smirks. "Volleyball? She roped you in yet?"

"Nope, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time."

As if on cue, Karen marches over, clipboard in hand. "Alright folks, volleyball match in ten minutes. Hope you're ready!"

Brian groans dramatically. "Guess we’re up."

You all rise reluctantly and follow Karen’s lead to the makeshift court. The game begins with much fumbling and laughter; you aren’t exactly professional athletes here.

“Nice save!” Lucy shouts as you dive for the ball, sending it back over the net.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Brian adds with a chuckle.

Sweat beads on your forehead but you’re having more fun than you expected. Even Karen seems less intense as she joins in, her competitive streak softened by genuine smiles.

Afterward, you collapse onto the grass with your friends, breathing heavily but feeling content. The sun is warm on your face, and for once, work feels like a distant concern. After catching your breath, you all wander back to the picnic area where the yard games are set up. Cornhole boards, giant Jenga, and a ring toss beckon. You join a group gathering around the cornhole boards.

"Alright, who's first?" Brian asks, grabbing a bean bag and weighing it in his hand.

You take a step forward. "I'll give it a shot."

You and Brian form a team while Lucy and Sam pair up on the opposite side. The first toss lands short, but you quickly get the hang of it, adjusting your aim with each throw. The bean bags thud against the wooden boards or occasionally swish through the hole, drawing cheers or groans from the small crowd gathered to watch.

"Nice shot!" Lucy calls as you land one right in the hole.

Brian chuckles. "Beginner's luck."

Between throws, the conversation shifts naturally.

"Did you hear about Rachel's new boyfriend?" Lucy asks, aiming her next toss.

You shake your head. "Nope. Spill."

"Apparently he's some big-shot lawyer," she says, landing her bean bag with precision. "Met him at one of those charity galas she’s always going to."

Brian snorts. "Of course she did. Bet he wears cufflinks and everything."

Sam nods thoughtfully. "She did seem happier lately. Maybe this guy's the real deal."

As you take your turn, you notice Karen nearby, involved in a spirited game of giant Jenga with some of the interns. Her clipboard is nowhere in sight.

"What about Jake from IT?" you ask, returning to the conversation as you watch your bean bag soar through the air. "He still dating that barista?"

Lucy laughs. "Nope, they broke up last month. He's back on all the dating apps."

Brian smirks. "He showed me his profile the other day—'lover of cats and coding,' like that's gonna reel 'em in."

Sam arches an eyebrow. "Hey, some people are into that."

The game continues, each toss accompanied by stories and gossip about your coworkers' romantic escapades.

"So who’s next in line for office romance?" Brian asks, his tone teasing as he lands another bean bag.

Lucy grins mischievously. "I’ve got my money on Amy from marketing and Josh from sales."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Didn’t think they were each other’s type. They’re polar opposites!"

"They’ve been having lunch together almost every day," she points out.

You laugh as you make another toss. “Guess we’ll see.”

You are half way into the company picnic when the alcohol finally appears. Your boss opens the cooler and distributes the drinks, and regretfully, you have to pass. Alcohol and medication just doesn't mix.

You sit on the grass, a bottle of sparkling water in hand while your coworkers crack open beers and hard seltzers. The sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park. The sounds of laughter and playful banter grow louder as the alcohol loosens everyone's inhibitions.

Brian, now sporting a slight flush from the beer, leans back on his elbows and surveys the scene. "Man, this turned out pretty good, huh?"

You nod, taking a sip of your drink. "Yeah, it’s been fun. Way better than being stuck in the office."

Lucy stumbles over, balancing two beers and plops down beside you. "Hey! I brought you a drink!" She holds out one of the bottles.

You shake your head with a smile. "Thanks, but I’m sticking to seltzer."

She shrugs and hands the beer to Brian instead. "More for you then."

As you chat with Lucy and Brian, you notice Matthew perched on a nearby tree. His eyes gleam with a knowing look that makes your eyes narrow. Before you can fully process his presence, he spreads his wings and takes flight. You follow his path, craning your neck to track his movements through the sky.

Your eyes widen when you spot Morpheus standing not far from the picnic area, just beyond the edge of the trees. His tall, imposing figure is unmistakable, even from a distance. The crowd's laughter and chatter fade into the background as you rise to your feet.

"I'll be right back," you mumble, barely acknowledging Lucy's questioning look or Brian’s raised eyebrow.

You walk briskly toward where you saw Morpheus, heart pounding in your chest. The grass crunches softly under your shoes as you step away from the lively gathering. The distance seems to stretch on forever, but finally, you reach the spot.

There he stands, cloaked in shadows that seem to ripple like water around him. Morpheus’ eyes meet yours, dark and deep like an endless night.

"You came," he says, his voice smooth and resonant.

You nod, swallowing hard. "I saw Matthew and then you.”

Morpheus inclines his head slightly. "He is my herald."

The air around you feels charged with an otherworldly energy, making your skin prickle. You can hardly believe he’s here, so close and real in the waking world. Or is this still part of a dream? The lines blur more often than not these days.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "Why are you here, Morpheus?"

He looks past you to the picnic scene, a faint smile playing at his lips. "I am curious about your day life. The world you inhabit when you're not within the realms of dreams."

You blink, processing his words. "You want to see what my life is like?"

"Indeed," he replies, his voice as smooth as silk.

You glance back at your coworkers, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. Introducing the Lord of Dreams to your mundane world seems surreal, but there’s a certain thrill in it.

"Alright," you say, motioning for him to follow you. "Come meet my coworkers."

As you approach the group, Brian is the first to notice. His eyes widen as he takes in Morpheus' imposing figure.

"Whoa, who's your friend?" Brian asks, straightening up from his relaxed position.

"This is... Morpheus," you say, hesitating slightly over the name.

Lucy’s eyes sparkle with curiosity. "Nice to meet you, Morpheus."

Morpheus inclines his head gracefully. "The pleasure is mine."

Karen bustles over, clipboard conspicuously absent for once. Her eyes flicker with interest as she takes in Morpheus' striking appearance.

"And who might this be?" she asks, her tone taking on a flirtatious edge.

"This is Morpheus," you repeat. "He’s visiting from out of town."

Karen’s gaze lingers on him a bit longer than necessary. "Well, any friend of yours is welcome here," she says with a smile that borders on predatory.

Morpheus remains unfazed by her attention. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Karen steps closer, her body language open and inviting. "So, Morpheus, what brings you to our little gathering?"

"I wished to see the world through different eyes," he responds smoothly.

She laughs lightly. "Well, I hope we’re living up to your expectations."

"You have been most welcoming," he replies with a nod.

Karen's flirtation becomes more overt as she continues chatting with Morpheus. She touches his arm lightly and tilts her head in a way that emphasizes her features.

Brian and Lucy exchange amused glances behind her back.

"So," Karen says, leaning in slightly, "how long are you staying?" Morpheus is entirely unfazed by her obvious attempts and turns to you.

Morpheus' gaze locks with yours for a moment before he responds. "That is yet to be determined."

You watch as Karen continues her attempts to engage Morpheus, her body language practically screaming interest. You can’t help but smirk at the situation. If only she knew who she was trying to charm.

Brian elbows you lightly. "Man, where’d you find this guy? He’s got everyone captivated."

"Long story," you reply, eyes still on Morpheus and Karen. How could he possibly be this impervious? You're actually impressed!

Lucy giggles, clearly entertained. "She’s really laying it on thick, isn’t she?"

Before you can respond, Sam joins your little group, eyeing Morpheus with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Who’s the new guy?"

"Morpheus," you say again, finding it amusing how many times you’ve introduced him already.

Sam nods slowly. "Interesting name."

"Fitting too," Brian adds under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Morpheus finally disentangles himself from Karen’s questions and steps closer to your group. His presence has a way of commanding attention without effort.

"It is refreshing to witness such lively gatherings," he remarks, his gaze sweeping over the park once more.

"You don’t get out much?" Lucy teases lightly.

"Not in this manner," he replies, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You catch Karen shooting you a glance, clearly wondering why Morpheus seems more interested in your circle than her. You can almost see the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out a new approach.

"So, Morpheus," Brian starts, leaning forward with genuine interest, "what do you do when you're not... traveling?"

Morpheus’ smile is small, but there. "I have responsibilities that are difficult to explain."

Sam chuckles. "Sounds mysterious."

"It is part of my nature," he responds smoothly.

Karen reappears with two beers in hand, offering one to Morpheus. He accepts it gracefully but doesn’t drink. Instead, he holds it as if it were a prop in some grand play.

You decide to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "We were just talking about office romances before you showed up."

Lucy laughs. "Yeah, we were placing bets on who’ll be the next couple."

Morpheus raises an eyebrow slightly. "And who are the contenders?"

"Amy from marketing and Josh from sales," Lucy says confidently.

Brian chuckles. "Apparently they’ve been having lunch together a lot."

"Interesting dynamic," Morpheus muses, his gaze thoughtful.

Karen tries another angle. "What about you? Any special someone waiting for you back home?"

You bite back a laugh at the thought of someone asking the Lord of Dreams about his love life.

"There are many important figures in my realm," Morpheus says cryptically.

Karen looks slightly deflated by his non-answer but plows on regardless. "Well, maybe you'll find someone special here."

Brian leans over to you and mutters under his breath, "She’s relentless."

You chuckle at Brian's comment, taking another sip of your sparkling water. The sun is starting to dip lower, casting a golden hue over the park. You feel a wave of drowsiness hit you out of nowhere, the familiar sensation that precedes an episode. You try to shake it off, blinking rapidly and straightening your posture.

Morpheus' eyes are on you, a flicker of concern passing through them. You can tell he senses something is wrong.

Before you can excuse yourself, your vision blurs and your legs buckle. The world tilts and you feel yourself falling. Panic surges through you but then, strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

Morpheus holds you with surprising gentleness, his expression calm but focused. He lowers you carefully to the grass, cradling your head to avoid any impact.

The sounds of the picnic fade into a distant murmur as darkness envelops you. Morpheus’ presence remains a constant anchor in the haze of your mind.

"Rest now," his voice soothes, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

In the space between wakefulness and sleep, you sense his power enveloping you, creating a barrier against any potential harm. It’s as if he’s guiding your descent into slumber, ensuring it’s safe and peaceful.

You surrender to the pull of sleep, trusting in Morpheus' care.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in the familiar yet surreal landscape of the Dreaming. The sky shifts through shades of twilight, and the ground beneath your feet feels both solid and fluid. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The embarrassment of having an episode in front of Morpheus burns hot in your chest.

You look around, and there he is, standing a few paces away. His presence is as imposing as ever, yet there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, your voice echoing slightly in the dreamscape. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

Morpheus steps closer, his movements graceful and assured. "There is no need for apologies," he says, his tone calm and soothing. "It was not something within your control."

You shift uncomfortably, still feeling the weight of your embarrassment. "But it happened in front of everyone... and you."

He regards you with an understanding expression. "I am glad I was there to prevent you from injuring yourself," he states simply.

His words take you by surprise, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you," you manage to say, feeling a bit more at ease. It is still embarrassing though.

Morpheus nods slightly. "Your well-being is important, whether in the waking world or the Dreaming."

You glance around at the dreamscape, noting how it seems to respond to your emotions—colors shifting, shapes morphing subtly. You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself further.

"It’s just... it’s hard," you admit, meeting his gaze again. "Living with this condition."

Morpheus’ eyes soften even more, if that’s possible. "I understand," he says quietly. "The line between our worlds is thin for some."

You nod slowly, feeling understood in a way you hadn’t expected. The embarrassment starts to fade as you realize that Morpheus doesn’t see your condition as a weakness or something to be ashamed of. Just something that is.

"Thank you," you say again, this time with more confidence.

Morpheus nods at your thanks, his presence a steadying force in the ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming. You feel the ground beneath your feet firm up slightly, a reflection of your calming nerves.

"Shall we walk?" he suggests, extending a hand towards a path that winds through a forest of glowing trees. Their branches sway gently, emitting soft, pulsating lights.

You nod, falling into step beside him. The path feels both familiar and foreign, like a memory you can’t quite place. The sounds of the picnic are distant now, replaced by the whispers of the trees and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot.

As you walk, you steal glances at Morpheus. His expression is serene, his eyes taking in the dreamscape with an almost paternal pride.

"Does it ever change for you?" you ask suddenly. "Being here, in the Dreaming?"

He looks at you, considering your question. "The Dreaming is always changing," he says thoughtfully. "It reflects the minds and souls of those who inhabit it."

You ponder this as you walk. "And does it reflect your mind too?"

Morpheus smiles faintly. "In ways both subtle and overt," he admits.

You feel a sense of connection to this place, as if your presence here has more meaning than you realize. The trees part to reveal a tranquil lake, its surface like glass reflecting the twilight sky.

Morpheus stops at the water's edge and turns to face you. "This is a place where you can find solace," he says quietly. "A refuge from the chaos of both worlds."

You kneel down and touch the water's surface with your fingertips. It’s cool and soothing, sending ripples across the mirror-like lake. Peace trickles into your body.

"Thank you," you say again, feeling more at ease in his presence.

Morpheus watches you with an unreadable expression before speaking again. "Remember that you are not alone in navigating the spaces between dreams and reality. "

His words make warmth bloom within you. You rise to your feet and meet his gaze with a smile.

"I'll try to remember that," you reply.

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, absorbing the tranquility of the scene.

"Are you ready to return?" he asks softly. You blink at him. He could wake you up this whole time??

Date Published: 8/14/24

Last Edit: 8/14/24

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[vin-taege]

Neko

Summary: You introduce Chishiya to a cute cat-collector game despite him insisting that he wouldn't like it.

Genre: fluff, post-borderlands

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 800+

Note: This is totally self-indulgent after the last mega angst fic lmao

"What's the point of that?"

Chishiya stared at your phone, the screen lit up by a bright cartoon background and cats lounging on the toys you've set out.

"They're my friends and I love them," you hummed, eyes fixated on the screen. You tapped on a white cat—Snowball—to take a picture of him.

"It isn't the most..." Chishiya paused, trying to find the word he deemed most appropriate. "... riveting gameplay."

"Well, it's not supposed to be riveting," you replied, exiting the app and shutting your phone off. You took a sip of coffee before continuing, "It's just something that relaxes me."

You expected him to tease you in his usual sarcastic way, but to your surprise, he lifted his chair and scooted it closer to yours. "How does it work again?"

He didn't want to concern himself with such childish things-he thought they were pointless and a waste of time. But the way your eyes lit up each time you opened the app made him want to know more about this. It felt like getting to know you more by association.

"You just leave food out like this," you said, turning your phone back on to demonstrate. "Exit the app then after a few minutes, some cats will come."

You turned the phone towards him to show the current state of your yard. Though he didn't show it, Chishiya was actually a bit impressed. There was a giant cat tower in the middle, surrounded by smaller toys like a dainty glass vase and an opened treasure chest. You pointed to a black cat with white markings, busying itself with a red ball. "This is Gabriel. He gave me a raffle ticket yesterday."

Chishiya gently took your phone, pupils seemingly dilating. You watched him poke around the cats to read their names and descriptions, his poker face unmoving. You chuckled lightly, leaning towards him so you can brush some of the bleach-blond hair back.

"You could get this on your phone, you know," your fingers combed at the loose strands. You gathered them into a tiny ponytail before securing them with a hair tie. "It can help you feel less lonely during long shifts."

He quirked an eyebrow in question.

"You know, since you'll have some kitties waiting for you when you get back."

He smirked, handing you back the phone. "What a silly thought," he murmured against your cheek. With one hand, he turned your face slightly so his lips could meet the softness of your skin.

"You love my silly thoughts," you brought your hands to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your lips connected with a soft kiss, and you could feel him grinning against you.

"I suppose so," he teased.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Chishiya munched on some biscuits, content with the silence of his office. He was relieved to have caught a break, especially since it looks like he'll be on call until well past midnight. He had already texted you to sleep without him, but he knew you'd stubbornly stay up for his arrival.

He decided he'd finally had enough of looking through the mountain of reports sitting on his desk. His eyes drifted to a framed picture of you two instead. You were wearing a lilac sundress, a huge smile plastered on your face. Next to you, Chishiya sported a white sweater covering the hem of his beige slacks. A red plaid blanket was sprawled underneath you, weighed down by snacks, a wicker basket, and a chessboard.

He grinned to himself, reminiscing that day. It made him miss you more, made his heart hurt because he couldn't come home earlier. Sighing, he brought his phone out, scrolling until he found an icon of a white cat.

The chirpy background music greeted him, alongside a morbidly obese feline lounging by the food bowl. His eyebrows raised in surprise—his first time encountering this specific cat.

"Well aren't you a greedy one."

He wouldn't be caught dead checking out this game. But god, he just missed you so much and maybe you were right—he did feel just a little bit lonely.

Still, he'd never admit that to anyone, not even to himself. In his mind, he's only playing this game to understand you better. Psychoanalysis—not because he genuinely enjoyed a silly game with silly cats.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

"Nice," he muttered to himself. It was three in the morning, and you were sleeping soundly next to him. On the other hand, Chishiya was sitting against his pillows, face illuminated by his phone.

Tubbs—the obese cat he definitely did not learn the name of—had finally given him a memento. That fat bastard made him wait a month.

"Chish?" You stirred next to him, eyes squinting at the faint light. Your voice was groggy, mind still hazy from your sleep. "What are you doing up?"

"Nothing, love. Let's go back to sleep." He quickly turned his phone off, getting back under the covers to wrap his arms around you.

"Were you playing Neko Atsume?" you sleepily mumbled into his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

[amuseoffyre]

Thinking about the current series of Who again in the context of the overall arc beginning with the Toymaker episode and the running thread of media and self-awareness within the show.

The Toymaker set things in motion with Stookie Bill, invading and overpowering the world through the very first television broadcast and "if the very first image has been hiding in every screen ever since, sneaking into your head, carving a wave and waiting", wouldn't something like that leave a mark?

We know the Toymaker has 'children' of a kind in the shape of Maestro, a creature that consumes and manipulates music. We also know a fragment of the Toymaker (eta. forgot it was the Master trapped in there) was picked up by someone/something at the end of the episode.

We also know there's something bigger than Maestro on its way - The One Who Waits.

It got me thinking about the genre jumping this season has been doing all over the place and the way different kinds of media and watching and use of media is critical to every bit of the plot.

The Church on Ruby Road - Ruby's life is very literally the subject of a television show which is the trigger for her becoming the target of the Goblins (Documentary)

Space Babies - a group of children confined in a space station with tasks and jobs and monitored by someone unseen who is watching them and will speak to them through an audio system (Big Brother)

The Devil's Chord - Centred on real musicians saving the day with a show-stopping finale significantly with "we should visit [Star Trek]", Maestro playing the Who theme music, diagetic sound being mentioned and multiple characters breaking the fourth wall, suggesting self-awareness of being part of the media (Musicals)

Boom - A dramatic war story where someone goes in search of their lost father on the battlefield spiced up with conspiracy of Big Capitalism's war profiteering (War films)

73 Yards - All the broadcast and media related elements that help Ruby piece together her role and defeat the villain of the episode without doing anything herself with all cameras pointed and focused on her - she is the object who is being watched but uses that as a weapon, turning the MP character into the subject (Horror/Fairytales)

Dot and Bubble - this one speaks for itself, really. The echo-chamber of 'influencers' sustaining themselves on a self-feeding fatuous loop of people so awful that the AI designed to protect them eats them XD (Youtube-style media)

Rogue - they're cosplaying Bridgerton. The Doctor, Rogue, Ruby, the villains. They're all cosplaying Bridgerton and say as much in the dialogue. It's a play. A drama within a drama. About watching and waiting for the narrative beats and recognising the arcs and trying to rewrite the story (Bridgerton)

Then we have the recurring character (played by Susan Twist) who appears through all of the episodes, which is what's bringing me back to Stookie Bill and the concept of someone being present inside the story from the beginning.

What if she is the one who waits? She keeps recurring in every storyline they stumble into because - like Stookie Bill - she's "hiding in every screen ever since, sneaking into your head, carving a wave and waiting".

And, because my brain makes giant leaps of logic, it made me think of the most famous icon of the BBC from back in the day: the Test Card F screen, that was put on the screen when no shows were playing. It was on screens across the world for decades. It was iconic and it was a sign to wait for your shows to come.

One who waits with a puppet and a game :D

[the-football-chick]

WEEK 6 - Bengals @ Giants

Bengals QB Joe Burrow ran 47-yards for a touchdown on the opening drive and RB/HB Chase Brown sealed the deal with a game-winning 30-yard touchdown run in the final quarter to defeat the struggling Giants, 17-7 on Sunday Night Football.

IG: nfl (10/13/24)

[winedrunkwords]

lovely vision.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: the one where people can tell when steve thinks about you and mike can't whisper. [1.1k]

warnings: fluff, unrequited-to-requited-love, gender-neutral!reader

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

In hindsight, he really played himself, hoping his super-observant, super-loud, no-boundary-having friends wouldn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse.

It’s one thing for Steve Harrington, self-proclaimed Halloween hater, to not mind when other people decorate his space. That can just be written off to him being polite and kind, even though Dustin would scoff at that and Eddie would laugh and Mike would call him out on the word “polite” being anywhere near his name.

The point is, being around other people’s decorations had some kind of plausible deniability. Him putting up Halloween decoration himself, however, there’s no deniability in that.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked as he slid into the backseat of Steve’s BMW, pointing at the ghost charm that dangles from the rearview mirror. Steve offered (read: was blackmailed) into driving the boys from the Wheelers house to the arcade even though they had perfectly functioning bikes. But then Dustin said they were teaching you how to play some game whose name he couldn’t remember and he definitely didn’t want you walking all that way, and since he was going that way anyways….

“Nothing,” Steve snapped back, staring straight ahead. Hopefully that would be the end of it and no one would s—

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” offered Mike, the traitor. His hair was long and in his eyes, like Eddie’s, but Steve could still feel the suspicious, almost accusing glare through the mess. “Looks like a decoration.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just an air freshener. I know teenage boys stink but you guys know what that is.”

“A ghost air freshener,” Lucas said, right in his ear. Steve had half a mind to kick him out, but he’d already started driving to your house and he didn’t want to be late. “That’s for Halloween, and you hate Halloween. You always buy those dumb trees.”

“Why are you paying so much attention to my spending habits?”

“Because they’re terrible.”

Steve glared at him through the rearview mirror (the traitor). “Don’t think I won’t make you walk.”

Your house was pretty close to the Wheelers and already decked out, considering Halloween was at the end of the month and it was only October first. Fake, giant spider webs stretched up the front yard to the porch, and pumpkins and Halloween decorations dotted almost every inch. Your house looked like it was out of a cartoon about the Addams family and your outfit matched it, all black and muted colors. Your smile, though, that made Steve feel like he’d sipped pure sunshine.

You slid into the passenger seat, your designated spot (to no one’s surprise and to your complete obliviousness). “Oh a little ghost! He’s so cute! Is he for Halloween?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin asked with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Is he for Halloween?”

Rock and a fucking hard place. “Uh, yeah. It looked like it would fit the vibe, you know, and it smells nice.” Which wasn’t a lie. Steve genuinely did like the way it smelled, and the thought of you smiling at him the way you were now (warm, bashful, a little endeared) made the fact that it was a ghost a good thing.

You were endeared, maybe a few shades more than that. Steve’s indifference to Halloween was a well-known fact in the merry band of nerds (their name) that he chose to hang out with. Robin still talked about the year she got him to decorate his house with one (just one!) skeleton like it was a badge of honor. Now here he was, Levi jeans and orange sweater, with a ghost dangling from his car, glancing at you with a smile as he pulled into the arcade parking lot.

Maybe Mike thought he was quieter than he was; maybe he just wanted to ruin Steve’s life specifically. Either way, the entire car heard him over the radio when he murmured, “Man you really do turn into the people you love.”

Steve flushed and turned around so fast that you would be concerned about whiplash if you weren’t replaying what Mike said over and over again. People you love. “Alright, go play your damn games.”

None of the boys said anything, Mike looking almost uncharacteristically apologetic through the window. You smiled out at Dustin and said, “I’ll meet you guys in a few minutes, okay?” You could almost feel the man beside you turn into a statue.

“Okay.” He glanced between you and Steve nervously but ultimately chose to follow Mike and Lucas, leaving the two of you staring after the arcade door as it shut beside him.

“I’m sorry he said that,” Steve said almost frantically, eyes locked on the steering wheel so he didn’t have to see whatever horrible embarrassed look was on your face. “Mike never really knows when to shut up and he’s an instigator. He’s an idiot, actually. I’m really sorry; I can take it down if you want and —“

Your hand on his bicep shocked him into silence, and when he looked up at you, you were smiling like he’d given you a gift. “I don’t want you to take it down, Stevie.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to take it down,” you repeated, “I like it. Why are you saying sorry for liking me back?”

“Because I don’t want to — pause. Did you say back?”

You laughed, and it was the best sound Steve had ever heard in his life. He wanted it bottled up for him only, the only thing sustaining him for the rest of his life. “Eddie kept saying I was really obvious.”

“He kept saying that to me too,” Steve replied. “He’s just stupid.” He wasn’t entirely sure what’s happening, but you were still looking at him. Your hand fell onto his, right on the console, and relief burst inside his chest, a cool relief like a sip of water when you were parched.

Liking him back. What the fuck?

“I don’t think either of us are much better right now.”

His hand, of its own volition but also because it knew if he didn’t do this he would never forgive himself, cupped your cheek, and he didn’t even have time to ask before you said, “yes,” and leaned in. And he was kissing you.

Steve Harrington was kissing you like he needed it to breathe, like it was the difference between him being able to keep going or crumble right then and there. Steve Harrington liked you back.

You parted, and fell back into each other once, twice, before he pulled away far enough that he could talk. He whispered, “If those kids come out here and stop me, I’ll strand them, I swear.” Your answering laugh felt like absolution.

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

thank you so much for reading this! i wanted to write something for the beginning of october and i've been missing steve, hence a little steve one-shot. pls let me know what you think; i'd love to hear it! feel free to like and reblog if you enjoyed this, it really does help <3

[rederiswrites]

I think one of the really interesting parts of designing spaces for shared human use and natural habitat is that nature relies on a certain amount of messiness. A lot of the moths, native bees, and butterflies that people explicitly want to help rely on things like standing leaf litter and rotting wood to complete their lifecycles. A lot of birds need dead and dying trees. And yet in order to really catch on and spread, ecological plantings need to appeal to people and work for their needs as well. Our "for the bees" plantings can't be untidy messes or no one will want them, and yet a lot of insects winter in the dead stems of spent flowers and plants, for example.

It's something I'm relatively new to thinking about, but I think if we envisioned plantings as giant terrariums, we might be getting somewhere. A driftwood branch, a large rock, some moss, some occluded spaces--these are things we consider normal and attractive in, say, our pet turtle's enclosure. I think those things have a place in the "flowerbeds" of suburban houses, as well. Translate that to a fallen tree arfully placed under some small trees or large shrubs, with native ground covers growing around it. A mossy boulder. If you have a stump, you can put a cute toad house on it, maybe seed it with mushroom spores if it's in a sheltered area. Think of it as a careful composition.

And we need to let go of the idea of bare ground in plantings, at least in my part of the world. Xeriscaping is amazing, but something I cannot speak to at all in my (usually) humid biome with (usually) regular rainfall. Here, if you leave ground bare, it will fix that for you. Fighting it by weeding and mulching forever and ever is a loser's game.

Framing matters, too. You can communicate that a planting is cared for with a neat frame--a nice edging, a small area of neatly mown grass. Lawns and landscaping, at least in the US, are a big signifier of status, and a messy yard will be frowned on and may even bring problems with the HOA or the township. Things like a neatly-kept path and an area of well-maintained lawn are great signals that this is actually a deliberate design.

My succulent garden has also taught me that working with small areas at once makes it a lot easier to get a design the way you want it and get things established. That bed is a real joy, where some of my larger efforts are either definitely a work in progress or "what were they even going for here".

Anyway, lots of thoughts to be had.