#half baked weirdo

[garlic-and-vanilla]

This ask is in your inbox because my brain has apparently chosen to title you as The Illithid Understander and I feel like you might have interesting thoughts to contribute to this topic (please don’t feel obligated to respond tho!)

When I played through bg3 for the first time, what really stood out to me about the Emperor as a character was that he is full of ambiguity. Many of the questions about him, on both a personal level and on a broader level as an illithid, simply do not have concrete answers in canon. I thought that it was so neat how the writers enshrined a vessel for open dialogue regarding some of the biggest themes and questions of the game/story in a character. I thought the whole point of the Emperor’s character is that there’s no One Right Answer about: its intentions, its morality, how much it still is or isn’t Balduran, how much it is or isn’t a monster, why it cares so much about the PC, if it made the right choices, etc.

Which is why I was utterly shocked to find out that SO many people played the game and just… unquestioningly seemed to think that many of those aspects had concrete answers. That this character that, to me, was defined by ambiguity, had been determined by so many to simply be Evil.

I have my own theories about each of the questions/ambiguities listed above, of course, based on my interpretation of canon. But I see them as just that, theories and interpretation. Maybe my perception of the Emperor as a bunch of unanswered questions is just an interpretation, too, but then what was the writers’ intent? (Did my success in high school English classes make me overly confident in narrative comprehension? Lol)

I’ve read many an interesting take on the Emperor on tumblr and ao3 that seem to vibe generally with the whole It’s Supposed to Be Ambiguous thing, and I’d love to hear your take.

First of all this is so funny and I am so honored to be The Illithid Understander lmao.

Second I am very sorry I haven’t answered this sooner. Alas I am not used to ever receiving asks and just now realized I even have one. And what a wonderful message!!!

Honestly I think you fuckin nailed it my man. In a game that spends so much time and energy asking the player to think about questions like “what does it take to be a monster,” “what aspects cause a person to become monstrous,” and “when does it become worth it to become a monster” the Emperor is the ultimate answer. The non-answer. His character embodies all the questions the game wants to ask, and then doesn’t answer any of them for you.

The game shows you characters and says “this is a monster.” Ketheric Thorm is a monster, and Orin and Gortash, despite how sympathetic their backstories and motivations might be. It shows you cycles of abuse, manipulation, cult mentality, and indoctrination. The power of grief, love, fear, and ambition to lead people down monstrous paths even as they think they’re doing the right thing, or the only thing.

You as the player character directly help your companions navigate these themes. You see how they’re affected, how they struggle, what they might become if they choose to give in, and what they become if they don’t.

Do they become monsters? Do you let them? Do you encourage them?

The game shows you clearly what monsters are, and waits to see if you’ll become one yourself.

Withers asks you, “Do illithids have souls?”

He claims they don’t, initially, but that story is contradicted the moment he meets the Emperor in the High Hall, and when you meet him after undergoing ceremorphosis yourself. There’s also lore out there that says illithids do have souls— non-apostolic ones.

So far as the game is concerned, I’m not sure there’s supposed to be a solid answer to that question. I think— like you do— that it’s supposed to be ambiguous. He is not a character the game points to and says “here is a monster.”

I agree with you wholeheartedly that the Emperor is made of ambiguity. The lack of answers are my favorite thing about him. He’s a mass of unanswered questions that you look at and see the themes of the story inside.

Is the Emperor a monster just for being a mind flayer?

Is he a monster because he came to embrace the power his illithid nature brought him?

Because a friend turned on him, claimed he was lost, and he killed them in self-defense?

Because he dominated Stelmane, a situation we have no context for?

How much of his behavior is genuine? How much of Balduran remains, and how much is illithid? Does he even know himself? Does it matter?

He’s a big mystery. We simply do not know everything about his past. We don’t know how much of his behavior is real, or an act. We have to make the deliberate decision to take him at his word, or not. To trust him, or not. To love him, or not. All of this complicated by the reality that his mind and experience are alien to us (a whole other post by itself).

Ultimately, there are no answers except what we come to decide about him for ourselves.

Some people have decided that he’s evil, for various reasons, and sure, that’s certainly a way to answer the question. To end the ambiguity by deciding the Emperor is, after all, a simple monster.

But isn’t it so, so much more interesting if he isn’t?

[horrocious]

ME: so nanowrimo is done

BRAIN: correct.

ME: and I have two unfinished fics.

BRAIN: you're 2 for 2 so far.

ME: therefore now would be a good time to...

BOTH OF US IN UNISON: ✨️💖start a third one!!!💖✨️

[fastcardotmp3]

It's hard to pinpoint, for new people, the benchmark that tells when Eddie Munson has started to feel well and truly comfortable around them.

It's hard to pinpoint because he's so amiable and outgoing from the get-go. He's so willing to jump into conversation, to start sharing his thoughts no matter if they're only half baked.

He's personality at a 10 and he's unashamed to be himself and so it's hard, for anyone new, to feel like he's been anything other than totally and utterly at ease around them since day one.

Unless, of course, they stick around long enough for it to actually happen.

Because what becomes clear, but only with time, is that Eddie Munson may be a man of frenetic performance and staccato skipping through every social interaction he encounters, but that's not him at his most relaxed. How could it be? How could it possibly, ever, be when so much of that personality was borne of necessity?

Of survival and taking the heat off of people less capable of handling it and pushing up weirdo walls most people weren't willing to figure out how to climb, and thus ensuring he'd be safe behind them. That's the big hair and big noise and big taking-up of space. That's the Eddie Munson you meet on day one.

It's when he gets quiet that the difference is obvious.

Quiet, not like shrinking or hiding, but like contentedness. Like simplicity and the easing of responsibility off of his shoulders to be anything but present.

He'll sink into a couch at a party with his friends, arm up across the back where he can absentmindedly run strands of Steve's hair between his fingers and just listen to a conversation about the Pacers that he doesn't have anything to add to, but also finds himself happy to hear just from the joy it brings Lucas and Steve.

He'll lay flat on his back in the grass with his hands propped behind his head as the sun beams down on him and listen to the whooping boisterousness of a game of frisbee between Dustin and Erica, listen to Nancy and Robin gossip on the picnic blanket beside him.

He'll come home from a long day at work and shed his shoes, his coat, his voice so strained with offering up distracting commentary to nervous first-time tattoo clients, and lay out across the couch with his head in Steve's lap.

He'll hum along to Steve's recounting of his day.

He'll listen with full attention.

And he'll do it quietly.

Because he spent a lot of years having to be something big, and no matter how much that guy is still him in one way or another, having this? This option to let the other parts of him out for air? This choice in the matter made simply by having people he's comfortable enough to shed his armor around?

Well, god almighty, his gratitude is still plenty loud.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste. 

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home. 

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression. 

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries. 

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly. 

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later. 

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever. 

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

[fluffymaxsworld]

i am so in love with simon riley, so here’s (another) fic<3

“neighbors”

[neighbors, wife material reader, fluff<33]

“morning”

“hello”

the brief interactions you and your next door neighbor, simon, had were so miserable. occasional smiles and pleasantries, but just when your eyes met his. quick hellos and polite waves, something the both of you didn’t care about.

he worked in the military, a cold, stern man, he never took part at the meetings between the neighborhood. he was good looking, no one ever said the opposite, but his mysterious demeanor was something girls didn’t wish of. sometimes he also disappeared for weeks and people swore they had see him with a skull mask.

on the other hand, you were a sweet girl, outgoing and caring, even for your grumpy neighbor.

that’s why you two met.

it was a cold friday, the apartments were silent like always. you decided to prepare cookies to “match the mood” so you left the house to buy the ingredients. on your way back you noticed simon. he was struggling with searching his keys in front of his door.

“you dropped them” you smiled sweetly, breaking the silence and pointing at the couple of keys on the floor.

in response he nodded, picking them up.

well, he wasn’t your best friend, but at least he could’ve said a short “thanks”.

“you’re back from another mission?” you asked him.

“yeah” he quickly replied, almost impatient of locking himself inside his house.

“you’re a great man. bye.” you waved and entered your apartment.

he nodded again and closed his door.

weirdo.

well, whatever, time for cookies!

in a couple of hours you baked at least a dozen of chocolate chips cookies. and what a kind soul like yours would do with half of them?

you packed a basket full of cookies and opened the door. you knocked twice at simon’s and waited for a reply.

“who’s there?” the deep voice asked.

“neighbor!” you replied lively.

he opened his door and looked at you. his big, muscular figure was… something else.

“i baked cookies, want some?” you said, handing him the chest.

“you sure?” he looked quite surprised, “i mean, thanks”

“i just thought you needed them, i mean, you’re in the military!” you said it almost jokingly, but you believe that he deserved to be cared about.

“thank you, really. do you want to grab a coffee?”

he invited you over. simon riley, feared man, skull-masked, military guy, invited you over to drink coffee and eat cookies.

“yeah, sure!” you nodded, how could you decline?

you stepped in, looking around.

his apartment was similar to yours in space terms, but completely the opposite when it comes to the arrangements.

the walls were a soft grey, a white couch filled the living room and a wooden table with a couple of chairs was almost hidden between the entry and a huge library full of books, military books, you guessed.

then you saw it, the famous skull mask everyone talked about. you thought it was a myth, something people invented because they were bored, but here it was, white plastic-like skull and black tissue.

“curious?” he interrupted your thought as he took the mask, “if you wonder if the rumors are true, yeah, it’s mine. i wear it during missions”

“oh, cool” you said, looking at it.

“are you scared of me?” he asked you, a unreadable tone in his dark voice.

“scared? why?” a half giggle escaped your mouth.

“the mask. the military thing. isn’t it scary?”

“i don’t think so. you’re interesting and being in the military should be a boast!” you sat down on the table, handing him one of the cookies.

he took one and bit into it, “tastes good.” he smirked slightly, “and thank you, by the way. i guess im not really liked here…”

“you shouldn’t care about what they think. they’re just idiots” you reassured him.

“well, i don’t have time to care. missions and work are my only priority right now” he sighed, biting on the cookie.

it almost sent you shivers. he doesn’t have nobody to wait him after his missions, his appearance scares away all the neighborhood. he needs a wife.

“do you have a partner?” you asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

“why? wanna ask me out?” he joked, but you flushed a little, “no, i don’t. i don’t think i need a partner”

you avoided his fulminating gaze and kept talking, “man, you need a girl, believe me.”

“i don’t have time for stupid sloppy things like that. that’s for idiots”

“mmh, i don’t think so.” you said, giggling softly.

he let out a subtle laugh, looking at you, “i haven’t found the right woman yet, then”

“you’ll find someone, trust me”

and that’s how you and simon became close friends. every now and then, when he came back from missions, you were waiting for him with a basket full of cookies, muffins or a whole cake and a bright smile on your face.

and how bad, because he was starting to fall in love. in love with your eyes, hair, smile, oh, your smile. you drove him crazy. he felt cared about. when he was out for a mission he didn’t think only about coming back home alive, but coming back home alive for you. you made him dream in something when he was at his low.

it’s a snowy night, you baked a couple of muffins for simon. it’s been a month since he left for the mission and you really missed him. usually you knock at his door around 7pm, a quietly chosen appointment each time he would’ve come back home.

but not today, no, because you heard a knock.

“simon!” you smiled and opened the door.

“it’s been-” you couldn’t finish the sentence as he pulled you closer into a hug, a warm tight hug.

as you draw close, your bodies press together, creating a feeling of warmth and closeness. in that moment, your hearts synchronize, and the world around you seems to fade away.

“simon? are you okay?” you chuckled softly.

he buried his face deeper into your neck, your smell intoxicating him.

“i’m not great with words, y’know…” he started, “i… well, y’know, i’ve been away for awhile. i’ve risked my life more than once, and all i could think about was you. and i’m scared i could die without admitting what you made me feel”

“simon…” you looked at him, noticing his brown eyes full of worry and confusion.

“i’ve fallen for you, completely, deeply, insanely. you drive me crazy, you’re all i can think about. and i know i’m not the best man you’ll-”

you pulled him closer into a kiss, your lips finding his. you closed your eyes, he closed his, lost in the moment. you could feel your heart race faster, your body tingle in excitement. you shyly brought your hand to his cheeks, exploring his face, tracing the scars that his face was full of.

“i’ve been waiting for you” you whispered between the kisses.

“i love you” he finally said, his voice deeper than the usual and their eyes fixated on yours.

“i love you too, simon riley”

IM SO SORRY ITS SO MESSED UP BUT I NEED A DAMN BREAAAAK!!!

love y’all anyways :))

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Strawberry Lemonade

♡ featuring: toji x f!reader

♡ synopsis: you plan to make strawberry lemonade for the summer, but life has other plans. wc: 1.7k+

♡ cw/tw: just some fluff, toji kisses :3

notes: idk why i kept thinking about soft cottagecore toji my brain fhioshafiohiaf this was so self indulgent srry for any mistakes ive been sick for a few weeks lol <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

After heavy rain showers, sun rolled in and devoured everything beneath it.

Toji doesn’t like summer. He wasn’t exactly fond of the heat rays rippling across the pavement, his black slides bonding like tar if he stood in one place for too long. His bangs would mat to his forehead, and it was overall a hassle to tolerate. He’d much rather laze under air conditioning for the entire season.

Until you came along.

He’d never met someone so delighted over sweat and mosquitos before you. Maybe that’s why he slowly became accustomed to such weather. You weren’t shy about your strange habits. After all, on your third date it poured like no other, and instead of taking cover, you skipped through the rain. It was strange, yet he cracked a smirk at your wide grin.

You’re happy and that’s good enough for him.

You were elated at the promises summer bore, specifically for your plants. Fruitful flowers meandering on branches, the first sign of hibiscus blooming. Every year around that time, you carried your plants outside to bask in her warmth. It was all an invaluable gift from Mother Nature, and you did your best to honor her.

Of course, Toji had to purchase a house with the most sunlight, and a backyard to match—not with you in mind, at least that’s what he’d day as he avoided your gaze. He knew your housewarming gifts would consist of planting tools, but the sheer amount of it was staggering.

It was no surprise you planted your seeds the next day and watched them like a hawk. Toji was sure to mention how much of a “weirdo” you were for spending so much time caring for your perceived babies. A weirdo he loved, because he left marks of his affection in every nook and cranny. Sure, he feigned annoyance over it, but you knew better when he did things you didn’t ask for. Toji isn’t a verbally expressive husband, but his actions make up for the rest.

Like when he built a wooden potting bench to store the inventory accumulating in the corner by your plants. You came home as he was applying the finishing touches and embraced him for what felt like hours. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be unfazed by your gratitude, though you could still see the growing ghost of a smirk; “Don’t thank me, that thing was an eyesore.”

It benefited him, too, to gaze through the screen door in the afternoon and see the gorgeous sun-kissed glow on the apples of your cheeks. He adored your soft eyes that diligently monitored the seeds starting to sprout with a tender smile.

You filed chunky soil into terracotta pots you painted with various designs. The one that resembles a tiny cactus with a face grew a bundle of basil. The other one similar to a tiered strawberry cake grew a fitting crown of strawberries. You weren’t looking to bake an outstanding cake or be the best gardener. For the fruits of your labor, the only thing you wanted was—

A single pitcher of strawberry lemonade.

Toji trudges down the stairs half-asleep and enters the kitchen to pour the usual cup of coffee you make as you wake before him. However, there’s no jug awaiting him. He opens the screen door and finds you kneeling over the pots, sporting a bow knot straw hat and an overall romper in the sweltering heat. Your brows are furrowed, and you pick at the foliage.

He leans against it and scratches his ankle with the tip of his slides. The screen clicks the side, and you turn to him.

“Oh, hey.” There are somber notes in your voice, and something in his body wants to reach out and protect you from whatever’s pulling your face into a frown.

“Hey.” He walks over to you. Your lips are tucked behind your teeth, poking at the strawberry in your palm. He kneels on one knee and you glance at him, flashing a meek smile. He wishes he didn’t have a closer view as your eyes threaten to brim with tears. Oh…his heart, tight and struggling to beat.

Toji was used to loud, ugly love. But you—your love was as gentle as the petals of an orchid, and you’d changed him without even trying. That’s why he adorned your ring finger with precious diamonds. He became a better man and husband in your arms, and in turn he’d give you the world if you desired it. So why were you about to cry?

“What’s up?”

“Nothing…” His eyes follow yours, to the flourishing bunch of basil. And then to the lackluster strawberries.

The ones still hanging from their stems aren’t award-winning. They’re deformed, with multiple nubby ends protruding from every side. They look more like hopeful raspberries than anything else. There’s a considerable pale color washed over half of them. You mold one in your palm.

“Can’t be nothin’.” He picks the strawberry from your hands and observes it with two fingers. It lacks seeds and a deep, rich red. “I just don’t know what went wrong.”

"Who said somethin' went wrong?" You lock eyes, and he pops it in his mouth.

Yours widen, and you cup his face to try and force it out his mouth. “Don’t!”

Toji bites, and in an instant utter sourness prickles his tongue. There’s a strawberry flavor, but not enough to combat. The sting is strong, and when it coats his throat, his tongue contorts to fight the sheer bitterness.

Somehow, he remains stone-faced—a battle with his gut reaction. He can’t bear to break your spirit, not like this, not when you’ve spent months strategizing and waiting for your efforts to ripen. Toji tells the harsh truth, but when it comes to you, he’s willing to be selfish.

He continues to chew while you nervously fiddle with your fingers. You gaze at him, doe-eyed and anticipating his response. The lining of his cheeks excretes copious amounts of saliva, and he finally swallows.

“S’good.”

“R-really?” You’re shocked that they’re edible in this state. He nods and it relieves some of your worry, though you’re unsure about his honesty.

He thumbs the wetness on your lashes away. “Said I like it, so make some of that lemonade ya talked about so much.”

You place a handful of strawberries on the kitchen counter and get to work. You haven’t tried them out for yourself yet, but you don’t want to waste any considering how small they are. Toji stretches out on the chair, black tank riding up as he watches you slice the tips off the strawberries. Your delicate fingers handle them with such care, just so you don’t disappoint with an unpalatable drink. Cute.

When you’re done, the rose-colored liquid fills half the pitcher. You top it with basil and stir it around. You pass a glass to Toji, heart-shaped ice cubes floating on the surface, and sit across from him.

“Let’s try on the count of three.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay! One, two-“ Toji doesn’t stop for the counter and begins to gulp the drink. You take a sip of yours. The tooth-rotting sugar did some to quell the taste, but it was still insanely sour. Your lips purse and you shut your eyes, emitting a tiny squeal. It’s your first attempt and you know you shouldn’t be so critical of yourself, but you can’t help but feel like a failure.

When you open your eyes again, you’re dumbfounded at the empty cup in front of Toji. He licks his lips, “It’s good, baby. Why you look like that?”

“No way.” He tilts his head like he didn’t just consume a liquid jawbreaker. “Hm?”

“It’s…it’s really bad, Toji. You don’t have to lie to me.” You avert your eyes and stare at the condensation running down the glass of your unsuccessful project. He wraps around the table and leans against it while you’re sitting. He cranes your neck with a calloused hand underneath your chin.

“Look at me. I’m here”

“I really wanted it to work. I spent so much time on it.”

“I know, don’t take it so hard. I like it.”

“You just don’t wanna hurt my feelings.” You weren’t entirely wrong.

“It tastes good 'cause you made it.” When you don’t respond, a malicious smirk spreads on his mouth. “Wanna try?”

Toji bends down. He squeezes your face to puckering and plants a deep kiss on your lips. Rough and meaningful, and you melt into it. He releases his grip and follows it with warm plush kisses chasing your contact. His lips are soft but slightly chapped, fleeting hints of cane sugar and just enough basil to notice. Bitter like the descent of a bleeding sunset, the chill of autumn’s return. Silent assurance, that everything was okay, and will be okay.

He parts when you tap his sturdy bicep for fresh air. “Ya done bein’ a baby?” You giggle. Perhaps you overwhelmed yourself obsessing about it for months. He brings you back to Earth, and after the overthinking subsides, you think the outcome isn’t too horrible. A long deserved break is overdue.

“Yea” you sniffle, and he lifts you from the chair into his arms. You lock your legs around his back and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Now c’mon, I wanna lay down.” Lay down is his go-to phrase, but he actually means cuddle. He’d never say it, even when lying down quickly became Toji turning on his stomach and shuffling his massive weight onto your chest. It’s what you need right now, and the way his palm rubs up and down your back reduces your mind to mush.

“I’m being a bother” you mutter. He pecks your jaw.

“Nah. Love takin’ care of my little crybaby.”

Laying down becomes cuddling as you predicted, and you massage his scalp until he dozes off in slow breaths. Your favorite weighted blanket traps you between his muscles, and you happily accept.

You’re reminded of his vulnerability, his eagerness to trust without words. He took your problems and made them his. You both surrendered your fears and insecurities to love each other. You traded walls for strawberry kisses, and there’s nothing more you could ask for.

Daylight peaked at its highest point, and as you drift to sleep you wish summer wouldn’t end.

[anabdaniels]

A cozy little life

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Summary: You're enjoying your housewife life and your happiness makes Jack happy too.

Word counting: 920

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: Domestic bliss, domestic fluff, reader is enjoying her domestic life, Jack being the amazing husband we know he is.

A/N: I had a little epiphany while baking a cake, so here we are.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Even though most times you didn’t see anything spectacular about your cooking experiments, that time you were slightly proud of the results. As if the incredible smell of freshly baked cake wasn’t enough, you had successfully unmolded the cake without the caramel remaining glued on the mold.

If a year ago you were told that you would be that happy about a cake with caramelized bananas on top of it, you would have been in total disbelief. Still, on that afternoon, seeing yourself so excited about choosing the right temperature of the oven, so the cake could bake properly without the bananas and caramel at the bottom of the mold getting burned during the process, you couldn’t help but laugh at how much life can change on the space of a year.

Your old corporate job used to be pretty okay and you had no intention to quit after marrying Jack, until your previous boss retired from work and her son assumed the management and converted the work environment to the worst possible: work overload, accumulation of functions, work at weekends and holidays every time it was possible. Every day you went home frustrated, mad, or upset, Jack was always the most comprehensible someone could, comforting and taking care of you while you vented about everything until the day you came back home crying and shaking at the edge of a burnout.

“Sugar, you’re quitting that job.” Jack spoke firmly after pondering everything you told him.

“What? No, I can’t simply quit.” You said with your voice still husky from the time crying.

“Oh no? And may I know why?” Jack raised his eyebrows with both hands lying on his hips.

“I haven’t planned it; my finances are quite messed up at the moment and…”

“Honey, stop.” He sighed frustrated and approached you, resting his hands on your upper arms “I thought I’ve made it clear to you that money ain’t a problem here and that you’re more than welcome to rely on my finances that, by the way, are half yours since we got married. We have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of our lives, you don’t even have to work. I got it if you want to do it, but I’ll not let you do it at the price of your sanity”

You planned to get a new job as fast as possible when you quit, but then you decided to get some rest before start working again. After a few days, you started to feel like you were wasting time, and then you decided to test some of the hundreds of recipes you had saved and never had the chance to do. When the first couple of months passed, you realized you were concerningly happy with your new lifestyle. After six months you just accepted that you were happier than ever daily trying new recipes and doing flower arrangements around the house, even having to remind Jack to take off his muddy boots for the 100th time wasn’t a bothering task anymore.

Jack would never say it out loud, fearing to sound like those weirdos a lot of ladies complained about, but he loved to have you home full-time, knowing that, no matter what hour he came back home, he would find you there in one of those gracious dresses you wore daily and no longer struggling to keep your peace of mind as it used to be when you had your corporative job.

That afternoon wasn’t any different, after a long workday with the livestock, Jack came back home, almost entering home with his dirty boots, but stopping the moment he saw the freshly mopped floor shining like glass. He knew moping it again would solve any footprints left, but Jack would never have the nerve to ruin something you had done, so he was more than happy to let his muddy boots rest next to the door as he entered home. Based on that sweet smell of something recently taken out of the oven, Jack followed to the kitchen, smiling widely when he found you there, looking like a proud mother while taking a picture of the warm cake in front of you.

Calmly, Jack approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder. You smiled and let yourself relax between his arms, leaning your head back to rest against his chest.

“What’s my pretty wife inventing today?” Jack asked in a warm tone, kissing the top of your head.

“Well, I successfully made a caramelized banana cake, and I’m very proud of it if you ask me.” You answered happily, melting a bit between his arms.

“As you should. Just the smell of it by the door was enough to make me hungry.” He answered sincerely and moved to sit in one of the chairs next to the table, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“I make no compromise about it being eatable, but at least looks good.”

“Y’wouldn’t cook anything bad even if you tried hard, honeybee.” He assured while squeezing you between his arms, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“What’s the matter?” You asked sinking both of your hands on his hair.

“Is invigorating to see you happy, makes me happy either.” Jack admitted sincerely, planting a kiss on your neck “I love you so much, sugar.”

“I love you too, cowboy.” You answered quietly, closing your eyes and resting your head against his, simply enjoying the comfortable embrace of your loving husband.

Tagging: @missladym1981

[at4zxx]

“Sisterly love.”

Descendants rise of red❤️⚡️

genre: silly fluff 💖

glassheart used! (red x chloe)

bigsister!red + fem!reader

NOT A SHIP ⬆️⬆️(weirdos get lost)

warnings: NOT PROOF READ. but other then that NOPE! such a silly fic, I HOPE THIS HELPS?? :3 also I don’t count my words so have fun!

Growing up in the Wonderland palace was so boring, considering not socialising with anyone but your big sister and some of the guards.

You’re mom, Queen Bridget; also the queen of hearts did feel bad for you since you were a kid with no social life, so she bought two dogs. One Rottweiler and one german Shepard by the names of Atlas and Apollo, you and red loved them. They were basically guard dogs.

But now here you are, playing with the flour on the kitchen floor, throwing the whole entire bag onto the floor and scooping it into a bowl with the biggest smile known to any four in a half year old girl.

Your sister Red came downstairs with her girlfriend, Chloe.

Her face completely dropped when she saw the mess you made, chloe found it amusing since you managed to pour some on the dogs.

Apollo was rolling around in the white dust spread all over the kitchen floor meanwhile Atlas just sat down patiently just looking at the two older girls as if he was asking them to get him out of this mess. He was a clean dog, didn’t like getting dirty. Meanwhile Apollo threw himself into anything that had dust.

“omg, Y/N!” She exclaims, picking up the small girl covered in flour head to toe.

“Moms going to kill me! What were you even thinking!”

Y/N doesn’t seem to understand, just smiling and laughing.

“I wanted to make a cake for mama and Chloe!” You responded, the amount of happiness evident on your face made Reds frustration sooner replace.

She sighs after a while, pulling you into a hug, knowing she’ll probably have dust or flour on her clothes and face.

“Of course you did. Cmon, let’s just get this whole chaos cleaned.”

Chloe placed her hand on Reds shoulder, seeing the small smile on her lips.

“What?”

“You’re such a good sister to her.”

Just that there made Reds face flush. Her smile reappearing.

“Yeah yeah- shut up. Let’s just clean up before the maids see this and quit..”

“Yeah!” Y/N cheered, raising her arms happily.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily missy, no more sweets.”

Y/N’s smile turns into a frown, she drops her arms and looks down at the floor with slight sadness.

“aww :C”

——————

what seemed like FOREVER to you but felt like only 15 minutes for the other two girls you were all done cleaning the kitchen. And the dogs were no longer covered in flour.

Chloe sighs, wiping the bit of sweat from her forehead.

“Nothing like a bit of hard work does the trick.” She sighs.

Red laughs, looking at her girlfriend as she approaches her.

“Oh please princess, you only cleaned the flour off the dogs.”

Chloe smiles, bringing her hand up to wipe a bit of flour from Reds cheek with her thumb.

“You had something on your cheek, love.”

She chuckles pulling the blue haired girl closer.

“You have something on your lips.”

Then, their lips meet for a few seconds, butterflies flutter in Chloe’s stomach, Red felt like she was melting. Until it was cut off by the sound of a little girl.

“eww! don’t kiss! germs!!” Y/N fake gags, looking away.

The two girls laugh, pulling away.

“Alright, how about we bake a cake for your mom?” Chloe speaks, kneeling to Y/N’s height. Earning a scoff from Red for the two to ignore what she just said for Y/N’s punishment.

Y/N’s sparkle in her eyes return as she jumps into Chloe’s arms.

“Yes please!!”

Red sighs, crossing her arms.

“Oh my god you guys are so annoying.”

“Oh you love us.”

creator note: I kinda wished that Red had a younger sibling or atleast a pet because I think that would’ve been a cute thing to add :3

I love these two so much! (another reminder I’m not shipping the actors, and also this isn’t a ship edit towards Malia and Kylie) BUT OMG I LOVED WRITING THIS IT WAS SO CUTE- kinda short BUT SO CUTEE

[thaliagracesgf]

chapter two: the weirdo on maple street

an: chapter two!! i am flying with these first couple chapters just because i'm so excited about it. please please please do not expect this from future chapters, i am 100% bound to crash at some point. enjoy this chapter! it's pretty fun.

wc: 4.2k

general cws, not necessarily all in this chapter: drinking, alcoholism, drug abuse, smoking, cancer, hopper being kind of a deadbeat, usual canon violence.

masterlist (incl. series)

Your father didn’t get home until long after you had gone to bed, out with Will’s search party. You hadn’t bothered showing up at the meeting point. Hopper had said all he had to say back at the school, and you could see the argument that would ensue in front of half of Hawkins, so you drove home, building up an urge to do something and a nervous energy that nothing was quelling. 

The door slammed behind you as you got in. You stormed through the kitchen and the junkyard you called a living room before chucking your backpack at the floor and collapsing on your bed. You stared at the ceiling for an eternal few seconds until your limbs were jumping and your entire body itched, and you jumped to your feet to pace around the room. 

Slamming your way back through the house, you started pulling ingredients down from shelves with force that the box of sugar probably didn’t deserve. You think you blacked out for a few hours, because by the time your breathing was at a normal pace again, you’d baked six batches of muffins (a miraculous feat, considering the piece of shit kitchen you were working with),your calc homework for the next two weeks was done, and your bedroom looked like a tornado had run through it. 

But staring at the trays of muffins, you still had to do something. So you cleaned the house. Your father arrived home to muffins covering the counters, the entire trailer spotless, and you, absolutely crashed out in your bed with wet hair, holding your sister’s old teddy bear. You’d never had a more productive afternoon in your life.

You wake up feeling like your stomach is eating itself alive, and you realize that the one thing you forgot to do last night was eat dinner. You can’t fathom the thought of getting up, so you lay still for a few more minutes. You love your room, with your quilted bed, rugs overlapping on the floor over hardwood that would give you splinters, your bulletin board with pictures of your mom and Sarah, and your Dad. A picture Carol took of you, Steve, and Tina. A photo of Carol and Tommy, and a photo of Dustin, Lucas, and Erica from the first day of school that their moms gave you. You hold Cara a little bit tighter. 

You remember when the nurse gave her to your sister. You got one too, also named Cara. She handed them to you in your hospital beds, told you that she got them to remind you that they care-a-bout you. At four years old, you and Sarah thought it was the funniest thing in the world. 

You close your eyes tight, then force them open. You pull the blanket back, like a robot, and roll yourself upright, pulling the curtains open. Your trailer is pretty far from the rest of the park, but you can see Eddie Munson coming back from taking out the trash, and Mrs. Kim realizing that the storm last night meant all her clothes were still soaking wet. Her son left for college last year, and you’re getting a little worried about her ability to live on her own. 

You brush your teeth and tie your hair back before trudging your way out for breakfast, only to be met with the results of your frenzy from last night. The counter is still covered with muffins, minus the couple your Dad is actively chowing down on. 

“These are great,” he says, mouth full of food, raising a muffin in your direction. 

“Sale on pumpkins after Halloween,” you shrug. You pass him entering the kitchen, and pull out a container to start piling muffins into. 

“Hey!” He barks, in his very Jim Hopper way. “Where are you taking them?” 

“You do not need to eat six batches of muffins, Dad,” you say, continuing to box them up. He scoffs, offended. “I’m going to take some to school, and then to Steve’s tonight.” You really hope he just glosses over that last bit. 

Unfortunately, you hear him try to speak up, but there’s too much pumpkin muffin in his mouth to be at all intelligible. He sounds alarmed. For fuck’s sake. 

“Dad. I told you I had a thing tonight. I’m going, I’ve been planning on it for, like, a week.”

“Yeah, and I said you could go before a kid when missing, Y/N.” He’s raising his voice.

“I’m not stupid, Dad! I’m not going traipsing around town in the middle of the night! I’m going to Steve’s, for God’s sake.”   

“And I already don’t like that idea,” he says gruffly.

“Dad, we’ve been friends since we were six, you need to get over this. He literally has a girlfriend, anyway.” 

“And what about that Hagan kid?” he retorts. “I’ve had about six complaints about him in a month.” 

“Also has a girlfriend. I’m driving Tina, Dad, I can’t just bail.” 

“Well, she shouldn’t be going either!” he’s yelling. He’s always been this way with the idea that you might possibly, ever in your life, go on a date or hang out with boys. Naturally, you avoid this by never telling him, but he has got to get over this thing with Steve. It’s been nine years.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mutter. He ignores it. 

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me when you don’t end up dead in a ditch,” he says angrily, grabbing his hat and jacket and storming out the door. 

“Well I guess we’ll never know, because I won’t have the opportunity!” you shout as it shuts behind him. Jesus Christ. You were really hoping you weren’t going to have to sneak out. 

It takes almost forty five minutes for you to pick out your outfit for the day. Fall is always when your fashion is at its best, and it comes at the cost of sifting through a gigantic collection of second-hand sweaters your mom sent you from the city every morning. Finally, you clasp your earrings, grab your muffin containers, and head out the door, keys in your mouth and backpack on one shoulder. You sigh in relief as you drop them in the passenger seat, before swinging around to the other side and starting up your car, which always takes a few minutes. 

You’re halfway to school when you have the idea to drop some at the Byers’ place. You certainly have enough. You pull a probably-illegal u-turn in the middle of the road, and head to the other side of town. 

As you pull into their driveway, you nearly slam your head on the wheel as you see the chief’s car, i.e. your dad’s car, in front of the house. Whatever. You’re just going to have to suck it up, as little as you want to see him again this morning. 

But as you walk up to the house, raised voices slow your approach. 

“No, it was him, it was Will,” Joyce’s distressed voice says. “And he was scared. And then something—”

“It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you,” your father interrupts, and your eyes go wide as you listen, standing on the porch. Is he serious?

“Who would do that?” Jonathan asks. Has he met the people who live in this town?

“Well, this thing’s been on the TV.” Hopper says. It has? You must have missed it in your cleaning coma last night. “It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh…”

“No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him,” Joyce says, with a mixture of desperation and determination to convince your father.

“Joyce.” 

“Come on, how about a little trust here?” She shouts. “What, you think that I’m making this up?”

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up. All I’m saying is, it’s an emotional time for you.” He cannot be serious.

“And you think I don’t know my own son’s breathing? Wouldn’t you know your own daughter’s?” Oh. 

Oh.

That hits you like a bat to the chest. Because, no, you don’t know that he would. And you don’t know if she even means you. You know she knows about Sarah, the whole of Hawkins does. You’re too used to people acting like Sarah was your parents’ only daughter, that she was all they had before she died, and it’s infuriating. She wasn’t their only daughter. She was your only sister. 

The silence that follows is loud, and you decide you don’t want to hear any more. Knocking lightly, you push the door open and shuffle in. You don’t see your father around the corner, just Jonathan and Joyce standing together, Joyce with her face in her hands. 

“Um… hey,” you say, your voice small. “I brought… I brought you guys some muffins. Figured you might not have eaten… or something. I’ll just… leave them here.” 

You place them on the coffee table. Joyce is sniffling with her face covered, but Jonathan comes and meets you halfway. 

“I can… I can grab those.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Uh… no, thank you.” He takes the container and nods awkwardly. “I’ll… um, wash this and give it to your dad… or something.” 

“Yeah, no, take your time,” you don’t meet his eyes. 

“I’m sure he would,” he whispers, so your parents don’t hear. You give him a confused look. 

“Recognize… um…”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” You’re desperate to get out of here. You give an awkward wave, and head back out the door, not addressing your father.

On the car ride to school, you can’t not think about Jonathan’s words. Why on earth would he say that? He doesn’t know you, or your Dad. You know he was trying to be nice, but what the hell does he know about Jim Hopper? It’s playing over and over through your head as you walk into school. Who the hell is Jonathan Byers?

But you’re reminded of your Dad’s fit this morning as you approach your friends. 

“Ugh. Problem tonight,” you drag. “My Dad is freaking out, and I can’t drive over anymore. Unless he knocks himself out early, which I would love to count on, but can’t promise.” 

Tommy dives into your muffins, making a gigantic mess that leaves you and Tina giving him a disgusted look.

“Oh, fuck,” Tina complains. I was so looking forward to it.” 

“We can pick you up,” Tommy says, gesturing between himself and Carol, “but I can’t promise you’ll have a ride back.” He smirks disgustingly. Disgusting really is the best word to describe Tommy Hagan in most situations. 

“Ugh. I’ll see if my sister can drive us,” Tina says as you share a worried look for yourselves. The last thing the both of you want is to be sitting downstairs while Tommy and Carol have sex for hours in Steve Harrington’s parents bed. 

There’s a moment of silence, interspersed only with the loud chewing of Tommy on a muffin. “Oh my god,” you say. “Why didn’t I think of this already? I’ll just stay at your place, T. I’ll bring my car and we can go. I’ll tell my Dad we were working on a project super late, and I’m “scared to drive home”.” 

“Oooooooooh,” Tommy and Carol wiggle their fingers. 

“Thank god,” Steve interrupts them, shoving Tommy from the back of the head and turning to you and Tina. “I cannot do this with just them.” 

“Scared, Stevie?” Tina teases him. 

“Yeah, Harrington’s losing his virginity tonight,” Tommy chortles. You’re so glad he makes himself laugh, you think. He really needs someone to acknowledge the things he says.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve scowls. “Your mom knows that was a while ago.”

Wow, Tina gives you a look. Our friends are so witty.

“Speak of the devil,” Carol says as Nancy and Barb head down the hallway, flashcards in hand. Steve jumps up from his spot on the benches where you make yourselves at home (which is conveniently located under the trophy case, which his name is all over). 

The rest of you follow him over, you and Tina giving each other looks as you go.

Steve snatches the flashcards out of Barb’s hands, and she trails off on her question about molecules. “Hey!” 

“I don’t know, I think you’ve studied enough, Nance.” 

“Steve—” she protests.

“I’m telling you, you know, you got this.” He ignores the annoyed look in her eyes. “Don’t worry. Now, on to more important matters.” He clasps the flashcards, drumming his fingers on them as he talks before pocketing them. “My dad has gone out of town for a conference, and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, you know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

You laugh as Tommy says, “Good call.” Steve’s Dad is the biggest douchebag you’ve ever met, and considering Tommy, that’s really saying something. Credit where credit’s due, even if it is the bare minimum, he’s never cheated on Carol. Steve almost laughs too as he looks over at him.

“So, are you in?” 

“In… for what?” Nancy looks genuinely lost. You would be too. Steve uses a lot of words to say very little. 

“No parents? Big house?” Carol looks at her expectantly. 

“A party?” 

“Ding ding ding.” Tina hits her, and you hit Tommy as he laughs at Nancy. 

“It’s… Tuesday.” 

“It’s Tuesday,” Tommy mocks. “Oh my god,” he and Carol are both laughing.

“Dude,” you roll your eyes, making eye contact with Tina. Such a dick, you mouth. 

“Come on,” Steve persists. “It’ll be low key, it’ll just be us. Are you in, or are you out?”

“Um…” Nancy’s thought is interrupted by Carol. 

“Oh God. Look.” You turn your head to where she’s staring. Jonathan. 

“Oh, God, that’s depressing.”

“Steve.” you glare at him. Cut it out. 

“Should we say something?” Nancy asks. You feel bad for him, but you are one hundred percent out after the disaster that was this morning. 

“I don’t think he speaks,” Carol smirks. 

“How much you wanna bet he killed him?” Tommy snickers. 

“Shut up,” Steve shoves his chest. Your eyes widen again, as if you cannot believe what you are hearing from him right now, but Tina’s laugh slips out, and you give her a pointed look. Obviously none of you are exactly great people, but you’ve never known your best friend to be cruel. Steve bites his lip as Nancy watches Jonathan, his eyes following her as she walks over to him. 

You don’t hear their interaction, but if you had to guess, it seems about as awkward as yours. Tommy gives him a wave as he looks over at you. 

The bell goes, and Nancy heads back over to you and your friends. Steve and Tina split for their art class, and you walk awkwardly beside Barb and Nancy as Tommy throws his arm over Carol’s shoulder. 

“Attention, faculty and students,” your principal comes over the PA system. “At eight p.m. tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field in support of Will Byers and his family. All are encouraged to attend. Volunteer signups for search parties are available in the office.” 

You hear the door slam behind you as Jonathan heads back outside the building. 

“Where the hell are you, exactly?” Your dad is predictably furious when he answers the phone. 

“Tina’s,” you reply, exasperated. “We went to the thing at school for Will, and now we’re studying for chem.”

“Didn’t you just have a test today?” 

Fuck. How on earth does he manage to pay attention to the most inconvenient parts of your life? “Yeah, um. We’re working on a project. Doing some math homework too. I just… you know. Studying lumps it all together, didn’t think you wanted the details.”

You mime yourself losing your mind at Tina across her bedroom, who’s trying to hold her laughter in. Since kindergarten, she has found lying to Jim Hopper to be the funniest thing imaginable. For this reason, you’ve banished her to the opposite corner of the room until you hang up. You hope he can’t hear the wide smile in your voice. 

“Dad. Please, please chill. I’m just going to stay over here tonight, I don’t want to drive in the dark.” 

He looks across the trailer at the random woman that came home from the search with him, and decides that maybe it’s for the best that you aren’t here. “Fine. But you’re home by seven tomorrow night, no later.”

“Sounds great. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye, kid.” 

“Bye.” You drop the phone on the stand in relief. 

“Yes!” Tina shouts.

“Tina!” you shout back, laughing and dropping your voice to a whisper. “Your parents.” 

“You know they don’t care,” she grins.

“Ok, well, help me decide what to wear.” You pull out your two bikinis, although you know you want to wear the red one.

“Oh, come on,” Tina laughs at you. “First of all, it’s November—” 

“His pool is heated.”

“Oh, you’re so right.” She turns and starts digging through her closet. “Second of all,” she adds, her head deep in the monster of fabric that is her wardrobe, “don’t act like I don’t know exactly why you brought that one.”  

“Which one?” you ask, feigning innocence and not meeting her eyes. 

“The Phoebe Cates one?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Ha! I knew it.” 

“Come on, just because there are no hot single guys there doesn’t mean I don’t need male validation,” you smile at her. 

“You’re a terrible person,” she laughs at you.

“I know.” 

She pauses. “I’m totally bringing mine, too.” 

The drive over is full of trying to predict exactly how this night is going to go. 

“Okay. One hundred percent Tommy pushes Carol in the pool,” Tina says, doing mascara in the passenger seat. “Hey! Easy on the road, I’m doing eye makeup over here.”

“Take it up with the mayor, or something. Fucking potholes everywhere. But, yes obviously happening. We should get in ourselves before they get the chance. This sweater cannot get wet.” You’re wearing your orange striped zippered sweater under the massive Hawkins Police jacket you stole from your father. 

“You and your fucking sweaters,” Tina snorts. 

You pull in in front of Steve Harrington’s massive house, definitely not running over the grass. 

As you get out of the car, a shout comes from behind you. “When are you going to learn how to park?” Steve calls from his front door. You look back at your car, which is sitting diagonally half on his lawn and half on the gravel driveway. 

“Oh, shut up,” you narrow your eyes at him as you push past into the house. “Raise a Little Hell” by Trooper is playing on his fancy speakers. “Have you been standing here this entire time?” 

“No.”

“Yes!” Tommy calls from the back porch. “He has, it's completely and utterly lame.” 

“Wow! Big word there, Tommy!”

“Yeah, your mom taught it to me.” 

The doorbell rings, echoing through the house, and the speed at which Steve jumps up and runs to the front door has the four of you in the kitchen all snickering. 

“Hello, ladies,” you hear, and you turn your head to see him leaning on the door. You really have to try not to laugh at him. 

The scream actually hurts your ears. You and Tina are standing in the pool near the edge, gossiping and observing your friends until Tommy picks his girlfriend up and swings her over your heads. 

“Tommy!” you both shriek as Carol screams. 

“One!” He shouts, “Two! Three!” 

“Stop it Tommy! No! Don’t!” 

“You’re going to kill somebody!” You hit his ankles, and he finally puts her down as Steve comes back out from the house with his pocket knife. 

You watch as he shotguns it. That sweater really suits him. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy smiles at him.

“Yes,” Tina laughs. 

“Definitely.” 

Steve puts his cigarette back between his lips. “You’re not?” 

“You are a cliché, you do realize that.” 

“You are a cliché,” he lights the cig. “What with your grades, and your band practice—” 

“I’m so not in band!” Nancy shakes her head.

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done, then?” He tosses you and Tina drinks as well, and you grab your keys from the side of the pool, putting out your cig beside them. You see Barb roll her eyes, and Tina nudges you, smirking. 

“Don’t be so mean,” you whisper at her. 

“What? I don’t even get why she’s here.” Carol gives the two of you a look, like right? 

“You gotta make a little hole right in—”

“I got it,” Nancy brushes him off, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche,” Tommy chortles. He crushes his empty can against his head before tossing it at the ground. 

You push yourself up out of the pool to sit on the edge. Holy shit, it’s freezing. “Here, Nance, let’s do it together,” your teeth chatter. “Like right now, too, so I can get back in.” 

You cut the sides of your cans together and raise them to your lips. 

“Chug. Chug, chug,” Steve starts, and the others join. “Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug—” 

You drown them out as you finish your can before tossing it to the deck. Nancy’s done right after you, and she takes a bow. You laugh, meeting her eyes. You suddenly really hope that you can be really good friends with her. 

“Barb, you wanna try?”

The rest of you look about as surprised as Barb herself. “What? No. No, I don’t want to, thanks.”

“Come on,” Nancy pushes her.

“Yeah, come on, yeah!” 

“Nance, I don’t want too—” 

“It’s fun! Just give it a—” 

“Nance…” 

“Just…” she softens her voice. “Just give it a shot.” 

Barb takes the can and the knife from her, hesitantly standing up. She has an audience; Tommy and Carol look on, interested, and Nancy looks back at Steve to an apprehensive look as he raises his cig to his mouth. She struggles with the can for a second before it slips, and she cuts her hand. 

She gasps. “Gnarly,” Tommy laughs, and you hit his leg again. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy worries. 

“Yeah,” Barb shoots back, obviously annoyed. 

“Barb, you’re bleeding,” Nancy looks at her. Drops of blood hit the pool deck. 

“I’m fine,” she insists. “Where’s your bathroom?” She turns to Steve. 

“Oh! It’s… It’s uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?” You ask her, and she shakes her head without looking at you, walking back in the direction of the sliding glass doors. Nancy looks on, worried, as her best friend walks away and Steve points out the bathroom. Carol and Tommy are still laughing under their breath. 

Carol looks up at the sky, shaking her head and enjoying the moment as Barb goes inside. 

You see Tommy look her up and down, and before you have a chance to warn her he shoves her into the pool. She and Tina shriek as Tina ducks and Carol flies over her head. “Oh my god, what the hell, Tommy?” He drops his cig, grinning, and dives in after her. You jump back in with Tina, and begin to lose yourself in the splashing and screaming. Nancy laughs from the edge until Steve sneaks up behind her and pushes her in behind them, giving the most over the top jump in after her. Tommy and Carol kiss, you jump on Tina’s shoulders, and Steve grabs Nancy’s shoe and holds it away, teasing her. 

You’re so unbelievably happy, here with your friends. For the next hour, all your thoughts about Will and your father are totally out the window. 

“I’m freezing,” Carol shivers, wrapping herself in a towel in Steve’s living room. 

“Me too, holy shit,” you laugh and dry your hair. You and Tina are the only ones in swimsuits, and you’re looking at each other like thank god you brought them. The idea of trying to peel off soaking wet, cold clothes right now makes you shudder. 

“Hmm… well, I hear his mom’s room has a fireplace,” Tommy smirks. 

“Are you kidding?” Steve throws his hands up and you and Tina laugh. 

“Oh yeah?” Carol says, following him up the stairs. 

“Okay, well, you know, you are cleaning the sheets,” Steve calls after his friend and runs a hand through his hair. “You alright?” he turns to Nancy. 

“Yeah,” she smiles. 

“Yeah? Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes,” he leads her through the house. You and Tina pull on your clothes, finally something resembling not freezing, and grab your bags. 

You follow Nancy out to the front of the house, where she’s talking to Barb. 

“Nance!” her friend calls as she starts to head up the stairs. “Nancy. Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere! Just… upstairs.” Steve moves around her, back down to you and Tina. 

“Here, let me grab those for you.” He takes both of you out to your car while Nancy and Barb talk. You step outside, and you’re glad that for a second it’s just the three of you. You’re trying really, really hard to sort of back away from Steve, not do any of the things you’ve always done with him that might make her uncomfortable. But you think that a little bit, you might really miss him. 

As you fall asleep that night, next to Tina, you can’t keep him and that damn cigarette out of your head.

an: yay!!! chapter two!! i hope you enjoyed it. as always, any reblogs and other interactions are so highly appreciated, i love hearing what you think so so much whether in these comments or in my inbox! let me know if you would like to be added to this taglist <3

xoxo, thaliagracesgf

tags: @thisisourlovestory, @ladygrey03

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Only for you, Boo.

Domestic things bc Al deserves to be married.

Also! 100 follower special! Ignoring its late bc I was busy with school.

When Alphonse woke up, bed creaking as he slowly sat up. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he looked to the left side of him "..hhgghh Boo?" Mumbling as he finally got off the bed. He heard music from the kitchen, as he slowly went down the hall yawning, a sweet humming was heard.

When reaching the kitchen entrance Alphonse felt his heart skip a beat. His lover, Boo was smiling while humming along to a song that was muffled to him. All he could hear was Boo, only them, cooking a good breakfast for both of them.

Eggs, bacon and potatoes, a good breakfast to start the day with. But he didn't even look at the food, only Boo. It felt like a sugary dream, as if they were married. While standing there gawking at Boo, his partner finally noticed him.

Washing their hands quickly after finishing the food. They wiped their hands dried slowly coming to him. With a sweet smile "Hey sleepy head finally awake?" Going on tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek they giggled.

"Can you get the drinks while I make our plates baby?" With a nod Alphonse went into the fridge grabbing juice for the both of them. He smiled as he watched Boo pour ketchup on his plate, "How much do you want Boo?" His partner told him half a cup while working on the plates still.

When he went to go help them they ushered him away "Go sit okay? I know your tired from yesterday. You had to restock so much go rest a bit." Alphonse was suddenly reminded of yesterday, some rich guy from the city came to the shop to get candy for his partner. Almost bought our everything he had, but the money the red head thrown down was worth it.

While think about how the older man's voice sounded familiar he was interrupted by a click on the table. Smiling he saw a hearty meal in front of him, and saw Boo sitting in the chair next to him. "Okay, so, about the car I was able to get a deal with Seth that if I baked for him for like a month he'd fix the air conditioning on it and help with oil changes bc I hate doing it and you kinda suck at it." With a fake pained gasp Alphonse jokingly scowled at them.

"I do not suck at changing oil! I just forget to do it when I need too!" A light giggle and eye roll Boo replied "That's what I mean you weirdo!" Alphonse huffed playfully and began to eat a bit. As the conversation went by Boo was the first to get up with a sigh.

"I need to change and start baking. You know Mrs. Lunker? She wanted to buy some of my chocolate cookies and some muffins to send to her grandkids in the city." Alphonse nodded while scooping the rest of the food in his mouth "Go change I'll do dishes okay? Also can you grab my phone? I need to see if the candies were delivered." Boo nodded and left.

The music still going, Alphonse slipped into a dissociated state. The things he does with his partner felt so domestic, it was a nice pace compared to how he use to live before them. No one to cook for him, take care of him when he worked a bit too hard one day. This was nice, shit he's even doing dishes the day he used them!

Before Boo yhe dishes would be there for like a couple days till he needed them again, only because he got so busy he didn't eat sometimes. Or if a stream went to long and he decided just to eat some ramen to hold him over so he'd get some breakfast at the bar. But with Boo, they made breakfast, lunch and even dinner! He definitely got some weight because of their warm meals.

Looking down at himself he remembers how Boo bought him these clothes. His other ones were getting worn down, some holes because of moths. Boo dragged him to the store and got some comfy ones that suited him and complemented him how cute he looked.

He couldn't help but think about how he does laundry with his partner too. How bow of them chat waiting for the washer to be done, then hooking the cloths on lines in the backyard. And finally folding them together in their shared room while talking about the show they watched together.

Or even when Alphonse decided to mow the lawn because the grass got to long and Boo almost tripped when bringing Sweets to their car for a delivery in town. It turned out that was going to be a hot day so Boo made lemonade for him and brought a towel. Gave him kisses for doing so, saying they're making him his favorite meal and deserts while he was working hard in the sun.

Jumping while feeling a tap he turn his head to see Boo looking at him with a questioning look. "You zoning out babe?" Al nodded as he put the dishes to dry and wiped his hand. The towel being one of Boo's many towels they bought for the kitchen 'for the aesthetic' they said. "Yeah was thinking about how we are." Boo giggled and handed him his phone when he finished drying his hands.

"And how are we?" Alphonse looked through his phone as Boo peaked, smiling as he saw the confirmed notification that the candy was delivered he answered them "it's like we're married. Reminds me how my mama and dad were." Boo gave him a smirk.

"What you gonna propose to me?" A laugh tang out as Alphonse kissed their cheek "Let's wait till we got enough money for a ring atheist Boo. We got like what? 100 dollars combined together?" Boo giggled and nodded "Yeah, I want a ring where it has the biggest fucking diamond! Like that shit looks like a ring pop!" More laughter was bouncing off the walls.

"You want one big as a ring pop right? Might as well propose to you with one!" With a gasp Boo glared jokingly "Alphonse if you propose to me with a ring pop I'd leave and take the candy." It was Alphonse's turn to gasp.

"Not the candy! Boo please! At least let me get half of it!" Boo turned and huffed playfully. "I don't know...gonna have to convince me!" Alphonse wrapped his arms around them and started to kiss attack them "This convincing enough?" Boo was giggling like a child as he kissed them more and more.

But then blew into their neck "AH! EJXNS NO STOP THAT TICKELS!" Boo started to squirm as Alphonse relentlessly blew raspberries into their neck and tickled them. "Naw gotta say you'd give me half Boo!" Gasping for air Boo agreed. As they slumped back into Al their chest heaved as they lightly giggled "Ah...you are so weird." They finally said.

Alphonse rolled his eyes "Only for you, boo." He then let them go since they nagged him to do so. As they grabbed their apron Alphonse smiled as he watched them. Maybe....getting that ring wouldn't be such a bad idea. He also couldn't help but wonder what theme their wedding would be.

The multiple thought about wedding bells and tying the knot. Looking at them as they tied their hair up and smiling at him, with that smile they always do. Yeah, only for you boo.

.•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•.

.•♡•♡Please consider following♡•♡•.

Okay! And finished! I'm so happy I finally finished this! I was excited to write this actually bc I love domestic things. Also! Reblogs are appreciated! Please also tell me what you think! It's 7:36 rn and I'm so warm index my blankets I might clock out so have a good timezone y'all!

[lover-of-mine]

no it wasn't just that he didn't say much he did not promote the interview like at all, he still hasn't even posted anything about it. Hell Lou tagged him in a post and he never did anything. That was to me the most clear confirmation he does not like Buck and Tommy. As an actor it's part of your job to promote appearances and he completely refused. The only thing he posted that day was a Buckley Diaz family still, like that was loud and clear where he stood and what they think he's magically changed when he knows Tommy is not gonna last lol. Weirdos I swear.

Yeah, he did not promote the interview and he also didn't say much in the interview itself. For 704 he shared that BEAUTIFUL shot of him and Ryan in the sunset and a bunch of bi Buck art but no bt and he's been completely ignoring the relationship aspect of Buck being bi. And you're right, promotion is part of the job, it's very telling that when he is promoting he talks about Buck being bi without talking about Tommy and making sure people understand Buck's identity or just brings up buddie. We know the show takes the actors input into consideration, just look at the way Jen made madney happen. Oliver has made his stance very clear. I doubt a few weeks of getting harassed on the internet is gonna make him flip. Buddie is years on the making and if it happens it can also give Oliver himself CRAZY exposure. Why would he let that go for a half baked romance that doesn't hold a candle for what he could have with buddie? This is a business and buddie would be a one of a kind romance. Why would anyone involved in this give that up?

[jjkamochoso]

Next Stop: Celebration Station!

Fluff

Noritoshi Kamo x gn!reader

It’s Noritoshi’s birthday so you decided to treat him with a surprise celebration :)

It was finally June 5. The day you’ve been looking forward to for months.

Noritoshi’s birthday!

You hopped out of bed, eager to put your plan in motion. Decorating his room and throwing a party would be the easy part. The most difficult part was making sure he didn’t catch on to what you were doing because you knew he would protest your efforts.

“I’ve never celebrated my birthday,” Noritoshi had confessed to you sometime last year when the topic arose. “I was taught that my existence was a burden. Why would anyone in my clan celebrate that?”

When your boyfriend confided in you, you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. That day, you swore to yourself that his next birthday was going to be one he’d never forget and you immediately started figuring out everything you wanted to do to make his day as special as he was.

You were shocked that your classmates were willing to not only help distract Noritoshi long enough for you to decorate the common room, but actively participate in the birthday festivities. You thought they’d laugh at you or at the very least politely decline, but everyone was on board. Even Mai, which you never saw coming, but you figured she had a niceness buried deep, deep, deep down inside her. Their willingness to come to your aid was currently coming in handy as Momo was tasked with keeping Noritoshi in the library for as long as possible, pretending to need tutoring and study advice. If that failed, Miwa was going to ask for a detailed lesson in the history of archery. If that failed, then Todo would restrain him until you were ready. Thankfully, your first plan with Momo was going smoothly according to the thumbs up text she sent you. Kokichi was helping you, via Mechamaru, put up streamers high in the room so you didn’t have to teeter on chairs and potentially fall over. Meanwhile, you were busy baking the cake. Noritoshi loved coffee so what better than a chocolate mocha flavored birthday cake? It wasn’t traditional by any means but you figured he’d dealt with enough tradition throughout his life that this would be a welcome change. When the batter was done, you sneaked a little taste to make sure it was yummy—so did Mai, as her finger was coated in the raw dessert from dipping it straight in the mixing bowl.

“Ew, Mai! You got your germs in it,” you cried.

“When Kamo blows the candles out, his germs are gonna get all over it anyway,” she said, licking her finger.

“Yeah, but I kiss him so that doesn’t matter,” you mumbled under your breath. Unfortunately, Mai heard you.

A wicked grin spread on her face. “I can kiss you if it makes you feel better about this whole thing.”

She started running toward you and you quickly put up the spatula as your defense weapon.

“Stay away from me, you weirdo!” you yelled out, half laughing. Mai started cackling as well, grabbing one more swipe of batter and opting to leave you be as you still had lots more work to do and she didn’t want to put you behind schedule in fear of being told to pick up the slack. With the cake in the oven, you went to work on the snacks next. When those were finished, you pulled the baked cake out of the oven to cool before frosting. You checked on Kokichi, who was all done with the decorating. His last task was to just meet back here with the rest of your classmates in an hour or so when you expected Noritoshi to arrive. You neatly displayed the party plates and flatware on top of the birthday tablecloth adorned dining table and placed the snack platters where they could be accessible to everyone. When the cake was able to be frosted, you worked diligently as time was running out before the man of the hour would show up. With 5 minutes to spare, you were finished. You smiled to yourself, satisfied with all the hard work you and your friends put into this and hoped Noritoshi would appreciate your efforts. You heard a knock at the door and you peeked out the window, relieved to see your classmates. You quickly ushered them in, telling them to be as quiet as possible for when Momo and Noritoshi showed up.

“Not a problem!” said Todo, his voice booming throughout the common room. Mai rolled her eyes and Miwa visibly cringed, Mechamaru placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in an effort to calm her down. It felt like an eternity passed before you heard Momo outside the door.

“…want some lunch? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge in here.”

You heard the calm voice of Noritoshi speak up and your heart was pounding in your chest from both nerves and excitement.

“Oh. Sure, that sounds like a good idea.”

“After you,” replied Momo, and you were grateful that she was quick thinking to let him in first to not ruin the surprise.

The door handle jiggled.

The door opened.

Darkness greeted them upon entering.

“I’ll get the light,” said Momo, reaching over.

Click.

“Surprise!”

You and your classmates shouted, catching Noritoshi completely off guard. He had no idea where to look first, his mind not comprehending what was going on as the decorations were throwing him for a loop. His brows were knitted in confusion before a look of realization dawned on his face. You walked over to him and handed him a pin with a ribbon that read “It’s Your Birthday!”, little balloons and confetti adorning the trinket.

“This is for you. All of this. Happy birthday.”

He stood there in silence, an unreadable expression on his face as he studied the pin in his hands like it was a test he didn’t prepare for. All of a sudden, he looked up, his eyes taking the chance to meet everyone’s before landing on yours.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’m just… surprised.”

“It is a surprise party after all,” joked Momo, nudging him in the shoulder. That made him loosen up a bit, his mouth showing the beginnings of a grin. You decided to step in to take some pressure off Noritoshi since you knew he needed time to process everything.

“Well, I was able gather a bunch of games and made snacks so you all can dig in and have fun!”

Your friends didn’t hesitate, embracing this chance to finally let their guards down for a moment and have a good time. You caught Noritoshi’s gaze and tilted your head to the side, a silent invitation to step outside and talk by yourselves for a second.

“I take it this was all your idea?” he mused when you were alone.

“It was,” you said. “You deserve a day where your existence is celebrated. I hope you’re not mad.”

“Mad?” He took a step toward you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “Y/n, I am anything but mad. How could I be upset at a partner who cares so much for me?”

You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, laughing a little. “Good. I don’t know what I would do if I made you uncomfortable. I would feel absolutely awful.”

“Oh no, I am definitely uncomfortable,” he said, stopping you with a raised hand before you could apologize profusely, “but only because I truly don’t think I deserve all this.”

“Oh, my darling,” you started, conviction lacing every word that left your throat, “the Kamo clan received the most brilliant, kind hearted, strong boy on the day you were born, Noritoshi, don’t ever let them make you forget that. You are so special, even beyond your cursed energy or blood manipulation. You’re clever, I love how you always have a solution to any problem I run into. You’re a great listener and your words bring me so much comfort when I crave them. I know I say this all the time but you have such a good heart. You cherish the people you care about and always put them first. You don’t hesitate to help people in need.”

You gently placed your hands over the top of his own. “I’m glad you were born, Noritoshi Kamo. You’re the light of my life and every day I thank the universe for bringing us together.”

A few tears escaped the sides of Noritoshi’s eyes and he looked embarrassed at his display of emotion. Moving fast, you brushed them away with a delicate swipe of your thumb.

“It’s okay, I cry on my birthday a lot too. It’s a very common occurrence for people,” you said, earning a confused look from the black haired man in front of you.

“Really? People cry on their birthdays and still celebrate year after year?” he asked, still sniffing a bit.

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but it happens. So I assure you, you’re being very normal.” You gave him a teasing grin. “For once.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Way to ruin the heartfelt moment.”

“I can’t have you crying into the cake! It’ll make it soggy. Now, come on, we can’t leave our guests waiting!”

You dragged him back into the common area, your friends relieved that Noritoshi was okay and now smiling. Todo brought over the cake and set it in front of your boyfriend while Momo lit up the candles. When you began to sing “Happy Birthday,” you noticed Noritoshi’s eyes water a bit again but he quickly blinked them away, leaving only joy in his irises.

“Make a wish!” you all exclaimed, catching him off guard.

“This is truly all I could ever want,” he earnestly said.

“That’s so cheesy. Be selfish for once and make a real wish,” chided Mai, only good intentions behind her barbed words. He nodded, looking over every one of you before taking in a big breath and blowing out the candles. Your classmates cheered and you started cutting up the dessert, excited to see if your efforts paid off—they absolutely did. The cake was perfectly moist, the frosting not too sweet. Noritoshi was certainly enjoying it, a subtle smile never leaving his face as he took small bites, savoring the taste. As you took in the scene in front of you, your classmates clearly enjoying their time together, you felt Noritoshi lean in toward you as you ate another bite of cake.

“Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, just… Thank you.”

“You’re absolutely welcome, my birthday boy,” you said, making his cheeks dust with pink at the nickname. He may not have had any good memories of his birthdays in the past, but you hoped from this day forward you could continue making this day one he’d happily remember.

(He kept that birthday ribbon in a box of keepsakes and it made its yearly appearance from then on!)

[thiefbird]

If perchance you want an excuse to talk about your Temeraire Aubreyad AU, consider this one! What's Surprise-as-a-dragon like?

I always want an excuse to talk about both Temeraire AND the Aubreyad, so yes!

I haven't done much work on this yet, so have some half-baked thoughts:

Her name is just Surprise but in Latin (probably Ammiriata bc I'm not imaginitive and it also means Wonder)

She is NOT a big dragon. She's a smaller middleweight, probably an Anglewing due to their superior maneuvering/HMS Surprise's excellent sailing qualities

She's mostly good natured, but has a little bit of a tendency to malinger over injuries(HMS Surprise's tendency to gripe, and Ammiriata knows that STEPHEN knows the best way to be on Jack's good side is to be extra solicitous towards her, so Stephen lets her get away with it)

More AU Facts because they keep occurring to me and this is as good a place to write them as any:

Pullings and Mowett are obviously Jack's lieutenants. Obviously. Mowett's dragon poetry is notorious in the Gibralter covert

Diana is the captain of a Longwing. This too is obvious. I have not decided what Sophie is doing yet - she is scared of horses so I am not certain how she would feel about dragons. Dragons are much more physically intimidating than horses, but they can at least tell you they won't throw you off so it could go either way.

I'm putting all the Napoleonic War blorbos in. Hornblower and Bush are here too(maybe on a dragon maybe just Hotspur Husbands). Sharpe will make an appearance, as well as Edrington and Pellew. Idgaf this is already a crossover I'm throwing in everyone. Jane is there she and Jack hook up she and Diana also hook up

Stephen is going to have so much fun with dragons. Can you even imagine. He calls them a chuisle and honey and my dear and everything you can think of and they say it back

Harte is much scarier with a dragon O.o

Everyone keeps questioning why this bitty Anglewing and her captain get set as the head of the Mauritius squadron but no one would ever think it's because of her weirdo little doctor

[dadsbongos]

Please.. anything for Henryk… I love my loser malewife… I’m starving …

833 words / notes - milk toast fluff, gender neutral, not even re-read for an edit

summary - you work as a waitress at kimikov's with henryk as the chef! he's kind of a weirdo, but at least he's handsome and shares food ~~~

Lady and Sir of Kimikov’s are exceptional bosses. More often you encounter the lady, a sweet woman edging sixty, as she handles more of the front end service of their family restaurant. Her husband, mild-mannered and humble pushing seventy, is usually stowed in the back office to count bills and manage expenses. Naturally, you prefer Lady, but you’ll happily force an encounter with Sir if it means not having to speak with their useless son.

Useless is harsh, he is the cook after all.

Does not make you any less annoyed with him, though. All he does is stare. Petrifying blues boring into your frame as you flit this way and that on the floor, carrying platters of his cooking to mellow regulars and starry-eyed newcomers. You always feel his gaze on your back, bleeding you out like a leech and having the audacity to coyly look away when you catch him.

Today, even. Fresh off a Saturday lunch rush, you’re leaning against one of the walls closest to the kitchen door. Legs jellied and arms burning from the prolonged straining when you spot him again. Shamelessly blinking out at you through the window into the kitchen, then startling back and jerking his gaze away when he realizes you’re staring back.

Kimikov’s front door squeals open, you push off the wall to greet and serve until Lady Kimikov lays a shaky hand on your shoulder. She smiles and shakes her head, cooing quietly, “Rest awhile, dear, you haven’t had your own lunch yet, have you?”

You shake your head and she passes to seat the couple in a freshly cleaned booth.

“Uh- “ calls from the kitchen, “Hey…”

Turning, you see Henryk leaning out of the window -- unable to meet your eyes, but cheeks aflame with red. He’s pushing a plate towards you.

“For me?” you ask redundantly.

He nods.

You push open the door to the kitchen and come around to snatch the plate, sitting beside Henryk at one of the stools his poor old father uses. Steaming pierogi that make your mouth water, but before you can pluck one tentatively between your fingers, curiosity stops you.

“Do I have to pay for this?”

To avoid locking eyes with you, he glances out at the patrons taken by his mother. Henryk folds his arms and leans against the counter in faux nonchalance, “No. No, don’t worry about it. If my parents say anything, I’ll handle it.”

“Really now?”

The shallow boldness deflates from him instantly, Henryk frowns at you with a forced chuckle, “Am I so easy to read?”

“I just know you,” you wave his worries, giving in to your hunger and fiending on the dish in your lap, “You make excellent security to strangers.”

He snorts at that, “Papa could only scare off children… Well-behaved children, at that.”

“So specific.”

“Children hardened and accustomed to the streets will find nothing to fear in my father,” Henryk sighs, though his tone is alight and delighted like what he’s admitting is a point of pride, “Not that he’d willingly frighten children anyway.”

“Mhm,” you hum around the soft potato and melted cheese in your mouth, savoring the flavors, “‘s is good.”

“Is it?” if Henryk had to approximate, he hears that (or some variation of compliments to the chef) around thirty times a day -- when it's slow -- but for some odd reason, it weighs heavier when you say it, “You mean it?”

“Delicious!”

“Thank you…” he looks down at his feet bashfully.

“You’re so easy to read,” you blurt.

Rather than fighting the accusation, Henryk takes the order ticket from his approaching mother and muses, “Did you know I wanted to be an actor as a kid?”

“No!”

“Yes,” he crosses the floor to wash his hands before cooking, “What a nightmare that would’ve been, huh?”

“I’m glad you found culinary instead,” at your half-baked confession, Henryk pauses. Finally, his eyes find yours, they scan from your head to your feet and back into your eyes. Digging for more, a silent prayer for you to continue. To say what he wants to hear.

He’s so easy to read.

“If you hadn’t,” so you do continue, “then we wouldn’t have met. Or at least, wouldn’t see each other every day.”

“That’s a plus?” he asks unsurely.

“Who would I be if I didn’t have you watching me all the time?” you tease, and he shakes his head, eyes clenching in obvious embarrassment.

“How terrible of me…”

“Maybe just do this from now on instead,” you raise your plate, “Much more inviting.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he turns away again, slower and more hesitant. Visibly unwilling to return to work.

“Good,” and now you search him, every muscle twinge and flinch.

He wants to say more, you sense he feels the need to.

But, ultimately, he does not. Only returning a stiff, “Good.” before devoting himself to the stove.

Oh, well… maybe next time Henryk will gather the courage to finally declare his feelings.

[dlartistanon]

Oh man cis anti bros ruined Arknights for me. I tried it out because I also liked another gacha (path to nowhere) which has a huge WLW fandom, way bigger than the dudes. So wishing for more of that I tried arknights.

The Arknights fandom is not girl friendly imho.

The doctor is supposed to be a gender neutral short person with according to some media long hair and according to the anime a female/gender neutral voice.

But the fandom made it a tall buff dude that’s going to repopulate all kinds of different species with their many waifus and ignoring character-character relationships.

Sorry for my rant, but boi was a seriously disappointed when I found that out.

I'm sorry to hear that. I don't play PTN, but I have friends who do, and one of the things they said about it really stuck with me, regarding how both player characters are written (Chief and Doctor).

According to them, Chief has more of an actual defined personality compared to Doctor. Chief is their own character within the setting. While Chief is established, Doctor is in this weird nebulous gray zone of being half-established and half-self-insert. And that is honestly one of the most frustrating things about AK's writing.

On one hand, I like the canonical lore of Doctor: their parental relationship with Amiya, their awkward, sometimes hostile dynamic with Kal'tsit, their lingering feelings of depression and detachment surrounding their amnesia, their implied autism, their gender neutrality, they're physically weak (easily winded going up/down the stairs), sensitive to sunlight, their observational skills, their fondness towards physical contact, their extremely negative reaction towards child soldiers, their academic background in neurology/history... they're a weirdo who pours hot water directly into their mouth.

But all that ends up being half-baked when the devs say that Doctor is meant to represent the player. And I just don't like that. It's a giant reminder of self-insertion, but again, incredibly weird when they have all this lore/characterization?

Look at this image:

This concept is speculated to be a somewhat of a "canon" design for Doctor. Quite feminine-looking, wouldn't you say so? Interestingly enough, no similar art of a "male" Doctor design has surfaced anywhere to my knowledge. The closest is in the art book but their face is covered in shadow and their hairstyle is a lot like Thorns'. The anime adaptation Prelude to Dawn adds to the mix by making Doctor 165 cm tall, with white hair, pale eyes, and an androgynous voice (by a female VA).

All of this ends up making the claim that Doctor is a self-insert very wishy-washy. You can't really claim Doctor as canonically nonbinary if the player chooses to see/interpret them as male or female. Because they're a self-insert. But are they really? By giving Doctor more lore/characterization, how can the claim of them being a self-insert hold up? It doesn't make sense.

It's incredibly frustrating how HG wants to have both cakes, but it doesn't work. So the result ends up feeling incredibly half-baked, fumbling both sides. At this point, there's no real and true illusion of player insertion.

It just annoys me the more I think about it. I don't want Doctor to be any % self-insert. I want them to be an actual established character.

But I apologize for going off on my own tangent. I absolutely hate how the Doctor is largely portrayed in fandom too. The automatic default to reading them as male (people can claim "gender neutral", but a lot of the time the actual portrayal/writing really comes off like a cis dude). The mischaracterization and overall gross treatment of complex female characters who have layered and nuanced relationships with other female characters. You're not alone there. I think it's amazing how the PtN fandom has more Female Chief than Male, and how much more popular WLW is. You're lucky.

[liffy-feelin-jiffy]

Coroika Gorai headcanons

Rider had typically been more closed off about his sexuality, for reasons he decided to keep to himself as they mostly originate from insecurities, but also because he actually hadn’t known he genuinely likes guys the way he thought he liked girls for the longest time in his life. It wasn’t until he was 15 in a half, and having gotten to know Goggles a lot more at the time did he realize that he likes guys in more ways he initially thought he did. It didn’t help when the devastating realization came to him that he had a crush on a specific blue idiot boy… a hard crush as a matter of fact. Like, I’m talking head over heels kind of stuff, Spiderverse Gwen syndrome. Mans is tripping on his own feet because he can’t stop thinking about that scatterbrain for the life of him. Goggles is in every corner of his mind, he’s in the reflections in the windows of the subway, his bubbly laughs can be heard through the soft breeze like bird song. Rider always looks at the Pilot Goggled buffoon’s empty hands, willing everything in himself not to take it and intertwine their fingers together like thread sewing fabric, and he clenches his own hands into tight fists whenever he’s away from him and the thought of hand holding comes to mind. He’s so in love, he wants to kiss that stupid little weirdo’s face it’s making him look like the biggest dumbass that’s ever been born-

Sorry I got a little too into it there I guess. Whether you wanna take all that seriously or not is your choice of poison.

Anyways, yeah, once Rider finds out he’s literally in love with the squid who deadass flashed him to the public during their first match back in the Plaza, it’s not going so well for him. Why in the world would he start getting all blushy and feely for that absolute moron? What possessed him into developing feelings for that over-ecstatic boy with tentacles as blue as the shining sea? With a goofy smile so bright that it rivals the very sun? With such inspiring optimism that Rider can only dream of possessing-

😑

Oh, who was he kidding.

What makes it worse is that his crush on Goggles actually started back when he was teaching blue team how to train to fight against Skull, hence adding onto his seemingly territorial behavior on Gogs when Skull eagerly said he wanted to fight team blue again. Jealous much? Lmao. It gets even funnier when he and Goggles both end up crushing on Skull too BAHAHA (I believe in fixing love triangles/squares with the power of POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIPS. SKULLAMIGORAI FOR LIFE✊🏻✊🏻✊🏻✊🏻)

For the longest time he tried to repel what he considered were “intrusive thoughts” of Goggles. He’d try gaslighting himself that he’s someone Goggles would never find that kind of interest in; maybe he already has someone else, like a guy or girl, he’s bi after all, isn’t he? He and Goggles would never work anyways, Rider’s personality was too serious to match with Goggle’s boisterous and colorful character even though he’d be willing to undergo any more bullsquit imaginable if it meant he’d get to spend the rest of his days with the blue buffoon. He doesn’t see him that way, they wouldn’t mesh well together, Goggles deserved to have someone nicer than he was, etc.

This kept going on for a little while, until eventually Aloha finds out—it’s a long story—and accidentally rats Rider out to his sister and momma—that’s an even longer story, and they both enthusiastically try to coerce him into confessing from there.

Aloha: “You should write him a song and play it for him-!”

Rider: “Bitch heeeeell no”

Rider’s mom: “why not make him something? Like bake a cake or a pie for him as a gift”

Rider: “did you forget what happened last time? what happened to having me banned from using the oven???”

This was all meanwhile Goggles was actually having a secondary crisis of his own. Not the extent Rider had, but all through the Turf War and Ranked Battle Tournaments to his journey with Sheldon to find the treasure, he’d been quite distracted needless to say.

Compared to Rider, Goggles was plenty more laid back and wasn’t shy about his sexuality, though he didn’t ever tell anyone his sexual/romantic orientation that much, so it lead to everyone believing that he was a gay squiddo—though he was really bi and had an equal preference for both boys and girls. There’s still not a lot of people who know he’s bi because he never tells anybody, and if he ever does it would be like discovering rare dialogue in a video game. Even though he has little interest in pursuing a love life, he still kinda had some hope in finding that special someone that he would get to spend the rest of his life with. He tried one time with a girl back in Inkopolis plaza (before the events of the manga) but it ended kinda rocky and he kinda tried to distance himself from relationships for a while until he moved on and kinda just went like “if it happens, it happens.”

Again, his crush was more mellow compared to Rider’s, or at least it started out mellow before eventually growing into a deep sweet longing for his companionship. Goggle’s crush started off typical, thinking that Rider was all handsome, strong, total dreamboat kinda guy. After they’d gotten to know each other some more, and upon moving to the Square did Goggles really have a thing for him. Even the rest of the blue team began to notice. His interest in him peaked when Rider stopped him before his battle against Team Emperor and told him “watch the next semi finals match closely. Because you’re gonna be facing against me in the finals.”

Can you tell that these are my favorite panels because ho mine gosh

Goggles wasn’t as insecure as Rider was in terms of self esteem, but he also came up with the thoughts that Rider wouldn’t see him like that, too. He even worried that Rider would’ve been disgusted if he told him 😭. He wanted to at least keep their friendship together so he was just like “I like you a lot and I admire you to no end but I understand that it may never really come to that so I’ll just support you and admire you for all your grace from afar. 😁”

Hope you enjoyed this cuz now I’m eepy and I’m gonna take a nap. I’ve got college now and I didn’t get enough sleep last night because my adhd will never love me.

(Edited a few things in here. Hope you like the changes better!)