#having thoughts and ideas and considerations

[alexanderwales]

This one has been going around a bit, and there are a few comments to the effect of "timestamps on spells mean you can use infinite spells" or "unique wizard codes to make every spell unique", and ...

I think I understand the instinct to do this, to "solve" the idea. You put yourself in the shoes of a wizard, and you think about how you would go about breaking open the seams of magic so that you can cast the fireball you want rather than the weird, awkward fireball that takes you five attempts to cast.

However, if "append garbage or UID" were a valid solution, then the entire conceit would just evaporate. It's the kind of "solution" that would not be sufficiently interesting to include in a story. If you were writing a novel and had this system set up, and a character came along and gave this as their answer, and they were right then the reader would immediately ask "wait, why has no one thought of this before?" AND you wouldn't get any of the elements of tension.

So if I were actually building a system that needed to work for a story, something that was built out enough that the reader could feel like they understood the language, it would need to be built with some considerations in mind:

It must not be possible to easily replicate a spell.

Every part of the spell specification must "do something", even if what it does is relatively minor.

The language must be complicated enough that new techniques can be discovered over time through great effort.

The earliest people to use the system cannot have simply learned everything about it right away.

I don't consider this to be an easy design problem for a system that's going to live in a story, especially since if you make it completely exposed to the reader, there's a risk that some reader who is more dedicated or clever will come along and "solve" it.

When I was a kid, everyone was worried about "peak oil". There were rapidly depleting reserves! Even if consumption stayed steady, less oil was going to be tapped over time, it was simply a question of resource extraction, and that meant prices were going to soar!

But in fact this was more a tug-of-war between depletion and extraction, one that had been going on for a long time. So what happened to peak oil? Maybe it was shale oil and NGL, maybe it was fracking, maybe it was just that production doesn't actually follow a bell curve. Maybe the science that gave us "peak oil" was just wrong, and while the principle that we would eventually deplete all reserves must be correct, the actual understanding of what the oil reserves are was flawed.

This was the kind of thing I wanted in the system though, a tug-of-war, a tension, wizards spending more and more time trying to figure out new ways to create the same effects, getting more and more esoteric, upping the skill level and knowledge-base necessary to become an effective spellcaster.

And this is very tough to design. If you want a puzzle to solve, it's that one, the design problem of a system of spellcasting that has that feature.

Spells are a non-renewable resource. One a spell has been cast, it can never be cast again.

But thankfully, what counts as a unique spell is permissive, and very early on in the history of wizardry, wizards found many ways to use the arcane language to specify a similar effect even if the wording was different.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

There are only so many ways to call forth a beam of lancing light, only a limited number of methods of purifying food to make it safe to eat. Soon it became necessary for the wizards to start casting spells that weren't quite what they wanted: a beam of light that arced to the left, a purifying spell that added a bitter taste, some changes cosmetic and others very functional.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

Wizardry was divided into ages by the historiographers. The First Age was the age of plenty, when wizards could make minor tweaks to the spells and cast as much as they liked. The Second Age was the age of modification, when wizards were jumping through hoops and using methods with side effects. But the Third Age was the age of decay, when so many spells had been used that only the oddballs were left. It was impossible to cast anything even remotely resembling a fireball, not even one that hooked to the left and exploded with sharp green shards.

It came to be that few wizards could produce a spell on their first attempt. They would try, only to discover that someone else had already taken their idea and the spell does not work. They would try again, only to discover that their second idea had also been taken. Wizard battles, which had once been glorious light shows, were reduced to two wizards standing in a field trying to be the first one to stumble upon a spell that had never been cast before.

~~~~

Here are some plot hooks:

Wizards jealously guard their knowledge, fearful that someone will learn of a "seam" of untapped spells, but they also write down every spell they know to have been cast, to reduce their search space. Obviously this trove of knowledge is highly valuable.

The existence of spell "seams", which are really just collections of spells that work off the same cluster of discrete variations, mean that wizards tend to be very specialized. The Sheep Wizard knows eight hundred ways of turning someone into a sheep, because he's studied that area of the arcane language extensively, as well as historical precedents that have been ruled out. The natural enemy of a Sheep Wizard is, of course, another Sheep Wizard.

During the Second Age, a group of wizards get together to deliberately reduce the spell-space, largely in the hopes of reducing the capacity of wizard-kind for making war. Their work largely consists of sitting around casting as many fireballs as they can, depleting all options for everyone else.

During the Third Age, a group of wizards gets together and in the spirit of mutual cooperation begins to define "spell blocks", a collection of spells that a single wizard is entitled to and all other wizards agree not to use. When you become a wizard, you're given a thousand spells which are thought to still be valid, and will lose your license to practice wizardry if you cast any spells that are outside your block. This is difficult to enforce, rife with accusations and suspicion, but is thought to be better than nothing.

During the Fourth Age, a group of "wizards" (none of whom have ever actually cast a spell) are working on the arcane language in the hopes of a revival. As the age of hoarded knowledge has mostly passed, they're able to get their hands on many books that weren't previously available. One day, they invent a new form of specification that allows hundreds of thousands of new spells, re-igniting wizardry.

[swaqcenix]

༻ Stardust of your soul | N. Romanoff ༺

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Summary: Being new to SHIELD and it's agents you'd always kept yourself to yourself & hovered in the background. Yet a new chapter opens up when being invited to the compound for 'team bonding,' and it turns out another star shined just as you did without even knowing. Simply the trust to fall asleep on another's lap really does open up the deepest of souls.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff & sentiment of how Natasha falls asleep on your lap..

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x gn!reader, sort of black cat x golden retriever (ish?)

Word Count: 3.8K

DC: cafekitsune

AN: I don't know where I got this idea from, but I wanted to get back to writing again, so I figured some soft reading of Natasha falling asleep on the reader's lap by accident would cut it! <3 Might make a P2!

(also if ppl can teach me how to get a sapphic relationship-)

Walking through the halls of the building always seemed daunting when you worked for SHIELD. It wasn't like you feared anyone there, just everyone was so equipped and skilled- they'd been there for a good chunk of time. Many beginning their journey's with SHIELD years before yourself, forming bonds and friendships.

You were merely a baby taking their first steps within the walls of SHIELD headquarters, simply learning the ropes & where to start. Still, you were eager to always take on a challenge and being accepted as a SHIELD agent wasn't something you'd expect to happen, yet changing that decision to take on the role wasn't even a consideration for you.

A simple few weeks at the headquarters was all it took for you to slowly begin to feel more comfortable with the said environment. You'd spoken to Maria Hill the Deputy Director of SHIELD and while she could be intimidating, she and yourself shared views similar making it easy to get on. Fury was a little more on the complex side but some of the other agents you'd definitely enjoyed bonding with.

You'd been called in to a meeting for god knows what, but that was the generalised idea these days. Most agents yourself included never seemed to be informed prior of your missions only simply assigned upon the day. It did albeit stress you out given your organised schedule and how you felt with being thrown into the deepest ends of the pool was stressful.

However, when you dedicated your time and complete energy and effort within SHIELD's walls and work you had to be prepared for anything, without fail. You'd found yourself being so lost in thought with how you'd ended up in this role and position that you'd realised you'd come to a halt.

Seeing the door to Fury's office was a surprise to your eyes, having not realised you'd walked all that way. Slowly bracing yourself, your hand reached for the door handle before it was pulled open and Nick Fury himself stood there in the flesh.

"Come on in," His voice that always sent chills down your spine seemed warmer than usual today.

It did strike you as odd but you hardly had the time to think more of it. Instead you simply merely nodded entering the room at a gentle pace, before your shoes caused a loud squeak of a sudden stop.

Your eyes glanced around the room to see people you hardly ever thought you'd be in the same room with. The Avengers, the actual known hero's themselves sat around a table as their eyes slowly drifted up to study you.

Tony, Steve, Clint, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, Rhodey & Sam. All of them were waiting for your arrival.

Natasha let out a soft smile at you nodding an approving look, which didn't surprise you at all. You'd become accustomed to the redhead while at SHIELD given her status and her ability to train new recruits which yourself was in fact one of them.

You'd never quite been able to read her fully, only knowing she had a closed off position about her, including the past everyone was forbidden to know of. All the recruits and fellow agents knew that it was a road nobody dared cross, including interacting with the redhead outside of working hours.

Standing there waiting for Fury or anyone to say something felt like an agonising amount of time & it was making the clock feeling like minutes were passing by. In reality, it was most likely to be mere seconds before Fury coughed and began to fill the silent room with his voice.

"So Y/N.. There's been some form of talk amongst myself and the Avengers," he began and you felt your body froze.

Without the intention of doing so, you glanced over at Natasha with concern and worry glazed over your eyes. Nobody else would recognise the small but clear look she gave to you, it was something you'd come to somewhat understand. She gave you a curt but firm nod and her eyes softened only for a moment but that moment was enough. It was okay.

You felt your shoulders and body language relax a tad as you nodded towards Director Fury to continue his conversation.

"We feel that.. we need a new member to work with the Avengers. Think of it as a new position a higher role. One that we thought you'd fit most well into. More like a team bonding so you'd say."

You gawked at the older man before shaking your head back to reality as it sunk into your brain and your bones. He thought you were the best for the role? You as in just someone from a town that had nothing now working along side the Avengers, more specifically her.

"M-Me? What, there has to be some sort of mistake. Director I don't know if I-" You began stuttering over your words.

While you did admire your strengths and abilities, it was a big step to be working with the earth's mightiest hero's. You certainly didn't want to make a fool out of yourself, however Fury decided to interrupt you.

"All due respect Y/L/N, it wasn't really a request. We need you on the team. The mission that's required is going to need all the assets and best that we've got. It's important," he stated firmly looking around the room at the Avengers before moving his gaze back to you.

"Director I-"

"They'll be trained and ready. I'll make sure of it," you heard her voice echo through the room with determination.

Your eyes drifted around the room landing onto her, staring at Natasha in pure shock and partial annoyance. You knew your own weaknesses and strengths and didn't need anyone speaking for you.

However, she simply stared back at you with a firm all serious look showing she wasn't backing down. Why was she so fixated on having you on the team? Her eyes changed ever so slightly and only for a moment looking at you with something you couldn't quite place. However, in a small blink just a tiny moment the look disappeared and her normal stoic expression was back.

"Thank you Agent Romanoff. Anything anyone else has to add?" He asked looking around the room with sheer authority.

Nobody seemed to speak, Tony flamboyantly flapping his hands up to speak for them. Clearly they weren't against having you on the team, you must be some important asset they required. With nobody speaking, you were all dismissed and the Avengers all fluttered out of the room.

All except one. Natasha stood leaning against the wall, half slouching her gaze fixated onto you. Head tilted in an almost questioning way towards you. Mirroring the action, you stared at the redhead inquisitive facial expressions painted on both of your faces.

Natasha cracked first, shifting off the wall walking towards you with her hands in her pockets, her signifying black leather jacket around her shoulders.

"You know, you should have more belief in yourself Y/N. We both know your abilities, I've witnessed them myself," she added her eyebrow arching.

"I.. You think so?" You managed to get out slowly.

Without a warning she leaned forward, whispering in your ear causing your body to stiffen. With her being this close you could smell her perfume, invading your senses like a warm blanket alluring you and drawing you in. The proximity of her was sending heat to your face and you knew her voice was sending shivers down your body.

"I know so sweetheart, I know so," she hushed out and if the floor was made of lava you'd melt right through it and into the ground beneath you.

Natasha was like a temptress, a woman who knew how to lull people in just with a few simple words. You knew this but still felt yourself floating towards the singing of the siren.

She stepped back smirking at you sending you a wink causing your heart to hammer against your chest. It was like she was looking into the depths of your soul and you were trying not to give her the key to opening your soul.

Just before she opened the door to exit the room she flung her body around to face you at an angle. The tension in the room was intense, dancing around you in a heavy feeling as she spoke.

"Training starts at 7. Don't be late sweetheart. I don't do late."

With that she left the room without allowing yourself to respond and you felt an internal groan bubbling inside of you. She was seeing into your soul now you needed to try and allow Natasha to let you see her own.

Tossing and turning at night in your bed whilst the minutes passed by seemed to be what was happening for you. The clock was ticking yet you were significantly restless especially knowing training started at 7am with Natasha wouldn't settle your mind to rest.

Her words played over and over again in your head, on a constant never ending loop. 'I know so sweetheart.' You couldn't remember the last time you had that much confidence running within your veins, let alone someone else. Yet, her voice ran through your mind, your soul almost touched by her belief.

Turns out you must have been laying there for that long tossing and turning throughout the night you'd managed to not succumb to a single ounce of sleep. That perhaps would come back to be biting you on the ass at some point today. Especially if you have training with Natasha.

As your head spun to view the clock next to the nightstand, elicting a loud groan from your lips. It read the time of 6:15AM. That's always your luck, never helping with the concept of you being the polar opposite of a morning person. If anyone was grouchy in the morning it would always be yourself.

Flinging the covers off yourself, grudgingly, you found your legs dragging themselves to the bathroom to have a shower, the need to freshen and wake up becoming excruciatingly stronger by the minute.

The water cascaded down your body, a soft sigh leaving your lips. It warmed you up within the speed of light, relaxing your current running thoughts, muscles relaxing slightly. Taking a shower has always reassured your senses with its water-hug, warm and cozy.

As you dressed for the training, you slipped out of the room deciding to take a small detour around the compound. The passing of Agents in the corridor, seemingly more professional and adjusted to the surroundings of the compound than yourself.

It almost made you shrink into yourself, wanting to knock your confidence. However, Natasha's words from the previous day replayed in your head on repeat, warning your insides for reasons unexplained.

Almost as if by sheer luck you'd past the main lounge of the compound where a few of the known Avengers seemed to be sitting around. That included, Tony, Steve, Wanda and Clint. As if your presence was like a dark shadow lingering into the room, all of their heads seemed to twist into your direction.

One thing you despised being more than anything is being the centre of all attention, eyes gazing on you like you'd become to be on a stage you weren't supposed to take. It bought bile rising from the depths of your stomach up at the mere concept of it.

Yet, their gazes lingered in a none judgmental way, almost like the comfort of understanding, an overwhelming sense but peaceful. Steve was the first to speak up, nodding at you firmly but not with an intensity of malice.

"If you're after the training room, it's just down the hall. Natasha's waiting for you there. Good luck, just believe in yourself."

With a curt, but gentle nod you headed to the training room giving your best definition of a half smile. Though, it probably looked more like a grimace, unintentionally of course.

As you entered the training room, Natasha was working on her punching exercises. Each one better than the last. The glimmer of sweat trickling down her cheeks and side of her hair, shone like water in the moonlight. For a moment you almost stopped to admire her.

However, you'd clearly being staring too long considering, when you came out of your dazed trance, Natasha stood smirking at you. Her head was now tilted to the side, her crimson hair braided and cascading down her shoulders. Immediately you flushed, a sudden realisation you'd been watching her working out, like some puppy in awe of the smallest of things.

"See something that you like?" Her voice carried huskily, but with a hint of a smirk lingering causing your knees to weaken.

Why she was having this effect on you, you'd never know. Part of yourself wished the feeling would vanish, disappearing like particles of atoms into the air. Dust vanishing away, yet another piece of you thrilled for the unknown drawn, the tranquility you felt. It felt exhilarating, the need for an escape.

As your eyes drifted around the room you realised just how much equipment had been invested within the 4 walls. Several different types of equipment were laid out in different selections, ranging from treadmills to yoga mats, leg presser's, even a shooting target range.

"N-No sorry I-" You stuttered still trying to distract your gaze to anything but at the redhead whose smirk had now grown wider.

The pair of you trained for a while, Natasha teaching you combat, which albeit you weren't as talented as herself. Several times she's managed to knock you down and pin you to the ground. Which, just happened to always end up with you looking up at her both your bodies in an extraordinary comprising position.

Natasha, on the other hand never judged you. Her skills and assets were on a scale of unbelievable, making you feel as tiny as an ant. Yet, the redhead never made you feel smaller than herself. She always seemed to root for the best in you, causing you to admire her as the minutes passed on.

"You've got more talent than you know," her voice whispered during the last training session.

Her voice sent a small shiver through your body shooting down your spine, as though a melody yet to be sang was ready to be heard. A soft nod a content true smile painted your lips setting a thousand suns alight.

"Thank you, Romanoff," your voice responded a little stronger than prior.

"Hey to you, it's Natasha."

A soft giggle passed your lips and she smiled, a rare one you could have sworn in the short time including familiarities of SHIELD, had never seen cross her lips before.

"it's like before when you were training me isn't it?" You asked your mouth speaking before your brain.

She simply nodded with a hum, putting herself once again in a position of combat causing you to follow suit. Her hair was now slick with sweat, but yours was drenched. Almost as if you'd been training the whole day, yet in reality it was a simple couple of hours.

"Exactly like before. Just harder and with stronger combat skills and assets."

Before you knew it, the pair of you were back at it. Training like you'd done the several times previously. Your skills had improved remarkably. How you didn't know, perhaps it was her words and further encouragement. Her sense of purpose that brought tranquility to you an ideology of lack of judgment.

One minute you were slightly stumbling and within the blink of an eye, you had her pinned. It was like the world had stopped, her own eyes had widened in shock, your body freezing as though ice had embedded itself within your veins, shocking every atom inside you.

The Natasha Romanoff, had been pinned down onto the floor with you hovering over her. A huge sense of achievement fell over you, a joyful relief that you had finally believed something within your bones for so long.

She felt it too, winking with no insult or any sort of ruined pride. Natasha merely looked and presented herself in a way that ran through to the pit of your stomach.

You scrambled off her slightly embarrassed as reality began to hit you, considering the positions you were currently in. Helping her up, Natasha stood there hands on her hips for a moment analysing you, but for once no feeling of unease overcame you.

"Told you could do it sweetheart," she said wiping her head with a towel.

If words could make your body melt into a puddle, like snow in the winter. You would have right there. Like an icicle on a tree branch waiting for its calling of life that's how you felt. Glistening but melting into bliss.

Natasha headed towards the door, her black tank top sticking to her in a way that was sheer attractive to practically everyone undeniably. Her abs could practically be seen through the material, causing your eyes to look up towards the ceiling scolding every part of your brain.

"Oh and, same time tomorrow," Natasha stated her voice carrying a tinge of something unplaced that caused you to look up at her. Yet she's disappeared through the door before anything more could be thought of it.

That's how it continued. The form of relationship building between yourselves, training continuing everyday. Your combat becoming stronger, fighting harder each time, not only did your skills improve but also your mindset. It began to light up your moments like a firefly, shining thousands of miles into you lighting up a hope in the sky.

There were times Natasha beat you, earning a playful comment from her lips.

"Gotta be faster than that honey," she'd husk out in that voice of hers.

Yet, you never stopped enjoying your training moments, the building of an established unknown. The way you and Natasha formed was rare, unseen and unbecoming, but there was no regret. No simple doubt that you enjoyed the form of relationship the pair of you had formed.

One morning your alarm clock went off once more, 6:15AM on the dot. Making no time to convince yourself to fall back into a peaceful depth of slumber you headed to the shower. Getting ready fast in the morning had become the new norm for you.

You'd managed to get changed at the speed of light hopping around to get into your gym wear. Just as you were about to leave F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up warning you.

"Excuse me Y/N, I was informed to let you know most of the Avengers got called out for an emergency mission. You were called to go on it but, Miss Romanoff debated otherwise."

Your heart sank, upset slightly about the lack of training. You'd become quite accustomed to the way of life in the morning, training with Natasha before amusing yourself for the remainder of the day. However, it sank further when she mentioned Natasha stated she didn't want you there.

Were you not qualified enough? Would you ever be? Your mind spiralled around with overwhelming and overthinking thoughts, like a tornado sweeping through miles of countryside. No, you couldn't do this to yourself again.

The entire day became yourself training practically with little to no breaks, until the very darkness of night emerged the atmosphere, clicking your brain into knowledge.

Taking your last shower felt less like a privilege and more like a burden. Something undeserving, especially when you're clearly not welcome on missions. However, you knew you needed it.

Eventually you'd changed into some warmer fuzzier lounge wear, settling on some grey jumpsuit. It allowed you to feel more relaxed. The feeling sent you into a deep slumber, curled into the couch in a content creation.

A form half leaning on your body caused you to almost jolt awake, but you heard a whisper next to you. For a mere few seconds your surroundings became an enemy, training become reality. Yet, as your eyes adjusted to the light around you an awareness grew within you.

The Avengers were sat down around you, watching some random Christmas film you presumed Sam chose considering the choice. Clint was sat a few feet away glancing at you contently.

"You'll wake her," he mumbled his voice lower than usual that caused an unprovoked raised eyebrow from yourself.

Following his gaze, your heart pounded harder, eyes widening in a sudden surprise. Natasha was lying on your shoulder, her body almost slipping towards your lap. She seemed more at ease than Natasha ever had before.

Like the weight of a thousand worlds, a thousand men had been lifted by one single sleep. No, a single person. You. Her hair was now loose, drifting down her shoulders, making her look almost incredibly soft and it melted every aspect of you.

"She seems exhausted," you murmured without thinking.

"She took the most hits. I know what you were thinking. Natasha she.. She didn't want you on that mission, because she didn't want you hurt. Not because she doubts your capabilities. All I could see was her guilt and want to be back training with you."

Clint's confession and confirmation sent a warmth unexplainable feeling through you. Looking deeper at Natasha, you noticed the cuts and bruises. The winces when the redhead shifted in her sleep. A shatter through your heart came hard, one you had no idea was possible as you glanced softly at the older woman.

She cared. Natasha stirred slightly her eyes fluttering glancing up at you. Her eyes met yours and in that moment it unlocked everything and anything possible. It's said eyes are window's to one's soul. The key to unlocking everything about a person there was to be done.

Glancing at her emerald eyes all you saw was stardust, the pain of stars shimmering thousands of light years away trying to find their way back. She smiled weakly, trying to pull away. However, instead you adjusted Natasha to rest her head on your lap.

A frozen form hit your lap, tense in shock before fully relaxing into your hold. A soft hum left her lips and without thinking you began to caress her hair, bringing her to a warmth blanket of safety.

"She's never like that, looks like you're something," Clint mumbled smirking causing you to roll your eyes.

Natasha wasn't just an assassin, nor an Avenger. Sure you had no doubt words would be interestingly mentioned later when she awoke. Yet for now, as you had previously gazed into her eyes, all you saw was the stars of light wanting a home. Stroking her hair was like touching the star's of the soul itself, no matter the distance they'd always have somewhere or someone to go to.

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 25/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 3966

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 25 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

You smiled and glanced over your shoulder at Ben, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Got any idea for a name?”, you asked, your voice light, but with a hint of genuine curiosity. You’d been thinking about it yourself, but you wanted to hear what he had in mind.

Ben paused, chewing on the last bite of his pizza as he thought about your question. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he was actually giving it serious consideration.

“Haven’t given it too much thought”, he admitted, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, as if he was already toying with a few ideas.

Ben’s smirk lingered, his fingers brushing against your belly absentmindedly as he continued, “But if it’s a boy… maybe something like Jack or Ethan".

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his arms around you, the comfort of being wrapped up with him like this. “Jack”, you repeated thoughtfully, testing the name on your tongue. “I like that. It’s classic”.

Ben nodded, as if satisfied with the choice. “Yeah, solid. No one messes with a Jack”.

You chuckled at that, tilting your head to look at him. “And if it’s a girl?”.

Ben grumbled softly, his voice low and playful, “It won’t be a girl”, he muttered, his hand brushing over your belly as if making his claim known. You could feel his lighthearted stubbornness, the same confidence that he’d been carrying since the beginning, convinced you were having a boy.

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “You don’t know that”, you teased, glancing back at him with a grin. “It still could be a girl, you know”.

Ben sighed dramatically, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “If it’s a girl, I’m in trouble”, he said, shaking his head as if already preparing himself for the possibility.

You smiled softly, leaning your head against Ben’s chest as you whispered, “I like the name Aria”.

Ben paused for a moment, his hand still resting protectively over your belly. He hummed softly, almost reluctantly, before mumbling, “It’s a good name. Strong, but… still sweet”. His voice was gruff, but there was no mistaking the affection behind it.

Still, he couldn’t resist adding, with a playful grumble, “But it won’t be a girl”.

You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as you nestled deeper into his embrace. “But what if you’re wrong?”, you teased, looking up at him.

Ben leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered in that gruff, teasing tone, “I won’t be wrong, you know why?”. He paused for effect, his lips brushing just slightly against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “The moment I shot my load, I was only sending my boys”.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, shaking your head at his ridiculous confidence. “Oh my gosh, Ben”, you giggled, pulling away slightly to look at him. “You’re impossible!”.

He grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What? I’m just telling you how it is. Science, baby”.

You playfully smacked his chest, still laughing. “Yeah, well, we’ll see how good your ‘science’ is when we find out it’s a girl”.

Ben chuckled, pulling you even closer against his chest as he mumbled softly, “You’ll see”, his voice carrying that same playful confidence. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment as if sealing his words with that small, tender gesture. His hand, still resting on your belly, gave a comforting rub, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

“You’re so sure of yourself”, you teased, looking up at him with a smile, your laughter still bubbling beneath the surface.

Ben’s grin softened as he met your gaze. “I’m always sure of myself”, he said, his tone low and affectionate.

When you and Ben finally returned home, stepping through the door with your suitcases in tow, you were met with an unexpected sight: your parents sitting comfortably on the couch as if they owned the place. Your dad was leaning back with his arms crossed, while your mom sat forward, clearly mid-bicker.

“I’m telling you, he doesn’t have the guts”, your mom said, her voice tinged with playful challenge. “Ben probably chickened out the moment he thought about actually getting down on one knee”.

Your dad snorted, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? The guy didn’t ask for permission—he demanded it. Like he was claiming a damn kingdom”. He crossed his arms tighter. “No way he didn’t go through with it. The man practically made it a decree”.

You froze, your mouth hanging open slightly in surprise as you took in the scene. Ben, standing behind you with a suitcase in each hand, blinked at the unexpected visitors before muttering under his breath, “What the hell?”.

Your mom noticed you first, her eyes lighting up when she saw the two of you standing there. “Oh, there they are!”, she exclaimed, jumping up and rushing over. Her eyes immediately scanned your hand.

Your mom’s eyes grew wide as they locked onto the ring glinting on your finger. She stood frozen for a moment, looking back and forth between you and Ben in disbelief. “He actually did it”, she muttered, her voice soft with shock.

Your dad, who had risen from the couch, let out a booming laugh, his grin stretching wide. “Hah! Told you so!”, he said triumphantly, pointing a finger at your mom. “Now you owe me ten bucks, Darling”.

Your mom shot him a glare, but it quickly softened as her attention returned to the two of you. She stepped closer, grabbing your hand to inspect the ring, her face lighting up with a mixture of amazement and approval. “It’s beautiful”, she whispered, her tone awed before she looked up at Ben. “And you—when did you even—how did you—”.

Ben shrugged casually, though the proud smirk on his face betrayed his nonchalance. “Had it planned for a while”, he said, setting the suitcases down with a thud. “Figured Brazil was the right place to do it”.

Your dad clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, his expression full of amused respect. “Gotta admit, kid, you’ve got style”, he said with a chuckle. “But you know, she’s stuck with you now”.

Ben didn’t miss a beat, his smirk turning into a full grin as he shot back, “Oh, don’t worry. She’ll be too busy loving it to mind”.

You groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. “Seriously? You two are ridiculous”.

Your mom pulled you into a hug, still beaming. “Ridiculous or not, I couldn’t be happier”, she said, squeezing you tightly before turning to Ben with an approving nod. “You did good, Ben”.

“Yeah, I know”, Ben replied with a wink, his hand moving instinctively to rest protectively on your back.

Your dad grinned, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the couch. “You know”, he said, his tone light but teasing, “now you’ll have to put up with us for holidays, right? Every single one”.

Ben, ever the cocky one, smirked as he folded his arms and shot back, “Oh, I’m already prepared for that nightmare”.

Your mom, ignoring the banter between the two men, stepped closer to you and placed a hand gently on your now quite prominent belly without even asking. You were used to her motherly habits by now, but it still caught you a little off guard. Her face softened, a warm smile spreading as she spoke. “It’s only ten weeks left until the big day”, she murmured, her voice tinged with excitement. “Is he finally moving more?”,

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you glanced down at your belly. “Why is everybody expecting a boy?”, you muttered, your tone dripping with mock exasperation.

Your dad raised a hand, shaking his head with a grin. “Nah, I’m thinking it’s a girl”, he said confidently, his eyes flicking between you and Ben as if daring him to argue.

Ben leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes at your dad with a smirk. “Oh, it’s definitely a boy”, he said, his tone firm. “No way it’s not”.

Your dad scoffed, clearly enjoying the challenge. “We’ll see about that”, he shot back. “I’ve got a feeling about this”.

You groaned dramatically, rubbing your belly with a wry smile. “Great. Even before he´s born, the kid’s already causing debates”.

Shaking your head with an amused smile as you rested a hand on your belly. “And yeah”, you said, glancing between your parents, “he finally made himself known—hard. Kicked the air out of my lungs while we were in Brazil”.

Your mom gasped, her eyes wide with excitement, while your dad leaned forward slightly. “Really?”, your mom asked, her hand moving slightly as if hoping to feel something. “That must’ve been incredible”.

“Incredible? More like shocking”, you replied with a laugh, looking down at your belly. “It was so strong, it actually made me jump".

As you spoke, Ben stepped up beside you and kissed your temple, his touch grounding and affectionate. “Told you”, he murmured quietly, the pride evident in his voice. “Strong little guy. Definitely takes after me”.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but the warmth in his voice made your heart flutter. “We’ll see”, you said, smiling up at him.

Ben gave your waist a gentle squeeze before straightening up. “I’m gonna get these suitcases out of the way”, he said, nodding toward the hallway. “Don’t go starting any more debates while I’m gone”.

Your dad chuckled. “No promises”.

As Ben disappeared into the bedroom with the suitcases, your mom’s gaze lingered on your belly, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s so exciting”, she said, her voice quiet but filled with emotion. “I can’t wait to meet this little one”.

You smiled, feeling the baby shift slightly under your hand. “Me neither”, you admitted. “But he can stay in there a little longer—I’m not quite ready for all the sleepless nights”.

Your dad leaned back again, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “Oh, trust me, you’ll be ready when the time comes. And if you’re not, well…”, He gestured toward your mom. “That’s what grandparents are for”.

Your mom laughed, patting his arm. “And don’t you forget it”, she said, winking at you. “We’re just a call away”.

Ben returned just in time to catch the end of the conversation, leaning casually against the doorway. “Yeah, just remember”, he said with a smirk, “grandparents don’t get veto power. This kid’s ours”.

Your mom tilted her head, her hand still resting lightly on your belly as she asked, “Anything odd happening? Any surprises?”.

You shrugged, catching her curious tone. “Not really”, you said, glancing at Ben for a second before looking back at her. “I mean, the cravings have been wild, and I’ve been pretty exhausted lately. But nothing out of the ordinary”.

“Cravings?”, your mom asked with a knowing smile. “What’s been on the menu for you?”.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes as you leaned back into the couch. “Oh, you name it. Fruit salad one minute, burgers the next, and then pastries and smoothies. It’s like I’ve got an appetite I can’t control, and everything smells so good”.

Ben smirked from his spot in the doorway, crossing his arms. “Don’t forget the five different meals in one day”, he teased, his voice warm with affection. “I’ve never seen anyone eat that much and still have room for dessert”.

You shot him a playful glare, but your mom burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Sounds about right. I remember being like that with you”, she said, her tone light and nostalgic. “And the exhaustion? That’s just par for the course, especially in the last few weeks”.

Your dad chimed in from his seat, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, darling”, he said to your mom, “but you weren’t carrying a supe, were you?”.

You sighed, rubbing your belly absentmindedly as you replied, “We don’t even know if he’s got powers or not. He probably will, eventually”, you admitted, glancing at Ben with a small shrug. “But for now, he seems like a normal baby”.

Ben, standing by the doorway, muttered under his breath, “Tomorrow we’ll find out more”. He walked over to sit beside you, his presence grounding. “Next appointment will check his size and, finally, the gender. Since, you know…”, he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, his protective side showing through. “He’s been measuring a bit small”.

Your mom’s smile faded slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face. “Small? Is that… normal?”, she asked, her tone careful but worried.

You quickly reassured her, your voice calm. “The doctor said it’s nothing to worry about. Just something to keep an eye on”. You placed your hand over Ben’s, squeezing gently. “And he’s definitely moving plenty. Trust me, he’s doing just fine in there”.

Ben nodded, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Yeah”, he said softly. “We’ll get more answers tomorrow”. His hand brushed over your belly in that now-familiar motion, almost like he was silently communicating with the baby.

Your dad leaned forward, his tone lightening the mood. “I’m sure he’s fine. Just waiting to surprise us all. Probably already planning how to take over the world—classic supe kid stuff”.

Ben let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Great, just what we need. Another me”.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be way more charming than you ever were”.

As the evening settled in, you found yourself lying comfortably across Ben’s lap on the bed, your belly resting right in front of him on his thighs. You wore nothing but your underwear, the warmth of the room and the intimacy of the moment making you feel completely at ease. While you twirled the ring on your finger, admiring how perfectly it fit, Ben was rubbing oil on your belly with a mix of focus and clumsy determination.

“Am I doing this shit right?”, Ben grumbled, his voice carrying a tinge of frustration as his large hands slid over your skin. His movements were careful, but he was clearly out of his depth.

You chuckled softly, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “You’re doing fine, Ben”, you reassured him, though you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he looked about it.

Suddenly, Ben lifted his hand and licked a bit of the oil off his pinky, immediately scrunching up his face in disgust. “Feels like fucking lube”, he muttered, his expression turning sour as he grumbled, “but tastes like shit”.

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the room as you covered your mouth to stifle the giggles. “Why would you lick it?”, you managed to ask, still laughing as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

Ben shrugged, his cocky smirk returning despite his initial reaction. “Had to check. For all I know, you’re making me rub motor oil on you”, he teased, though his hands continued their careful motions across your belly.

You shook your head, still smiling as you settled back down. “It’s just regular belly oil, you big idiot”, you teased, feeling the soothing warmth of his touch despite his lack of finesse. “Not everything has to taste good”.

Ben grinned, his hands slowing as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Fair enough”, he murmured, his voice softening as he looked down at your belly. “But you better appreciate the effort, kid”, he added, directing his words toward your unborn child. “Your mom’s already got me doing shit I never thought I’d fucking do”.

"You should talk to him more often", you whispered.

Ben paused his clumsy but earnest rubbing of your belly at your words, his hands still resting on your skin. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked down at you, clearly intrigued. “Talk to him more often?”, he repeated, his voice low and thoughtful.

You nodded, your hand trailing over his thigh as you gazed up at him with those big, adoring eyes that he secretly loved—though he’d never admit it out loud. You could see the way his usual cocky facade softened under your gaze, a rare vulnerability peeking through. “Yeah”, you whispered, your voice warm and full of affection. “I think he’d like that. You know… hearing your voice. Knowing you’re here”.

Ben tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if to brush off the idea, but his hands stayed steady on your belly. “You really think he’s paying attention in there?”, he asked, his tone a little skeptical but not dismissive.

“I know he is”, you said confidently, your hand moving to rest over his. “And I think it’d mean a lot. You’re already his hero, you know. You’re his dad”.

Ben let out a deep breath, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Well”, he muttered, his eyes flicking down to your belly, “guess it’s never too early to start, huh?”.

Ben leaned in closer, his large hand pressing firmly but gently against your belly. His voice dropped into a low, rumbling tone, the kind of commanding voice that had probably struck fear into countless opponents, but now it carried an unexpected warmth. “Alright, kid. Listen up”.

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, watching him with quiet awe as he stared at your belly, fully committing to the moment despite the lingering skepticism in his expression.

“I don’t know if you can hear me in there”, Ben continued, his tone softer now, “but you better know one thing—when you get out here, you’re gonna have the best mom in the world”.

Your heart squeezed at his words, your hand instinctively resting over his as he spoke.

“She’s smart, tougher than she looks, and she’s got more patience than anyone I’ve ever met—trust me, I’ve tested it”, he said with a small chuckle, glancing up at you with a grin before refocusing on your belly. “So you’re lucky, kid. Real lucky. Even if she´s a fucking pain in the ass sometimes”.

Ben shifted his hand slightly, his thumb brushing slow circles over your skin. “And me? Well, I’m still figuring this shit out”, he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “But I’ll tell you one thing—I’m gonna do everything I can to keep you and your mom safe. No one’s messing with my family. Not a chance”.

You felt your throat tighten, the emotions of the moment catching up to you. Ben’s gruff honesty, his protective nature, and the way he was opening himself up like this—it was everything.

He glanced back up at you, noticing the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “What?”, he asked, his voice teasing but gentle. “That good enough for you?”.

You smiled through the lump in your throat, nodding as you leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips. “Perfect”, you whispered.

As if on cue, the baby kicked—a strong, deliberate movement that landed right against Ben’s hand. His eyes widened for a moment, clearly startled, before a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Guess he heard me”, he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, placing your hand over his on your belly. “Maybe he’s agreeing with you”, you teased, your voice warm as you leaned closer to him. “Or maybe he’s just saying, ‘Yeah, Dad, I got it’”.

Ben smirked, his thumb brushing over your skin again. “Good”, he murmured, his eyes still locked on your belly like he was waiting for another response. “Better get used to listening to me now”.

Just as he finished speaking, another kick landed, this one softer but still unmistakable. Ben’s grin widened, a rare, unguarded expression of pure joy crossing his face. “He’s got a hell of a kick”, he muttered, his tone laced with pride. “Kid’s gonna be a damn first class soldier”.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t stop smiling. “Or a dancer. Or an artist. Or, you know, anything that doesn’t involve punching people”.

Ben snorted, shaking his head. “If he’s mine, there’s gonna be some punching. It’s in the DNA”.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, leaning back more fully against Ben’s warm chest, his steady heartbeat soothing you as his arms wrapped protectively around you. One of his hands remained firmly on your belly, where the baby had been kicking moments before. You let out a soft sigh, the weight of the day settling over you like a blanket.

“You really feeling alright?”, Ben asked, his voice low and cautious, the concern evident in his tone.

“Just exhausted”, you mumbled, your eyes fluttering closed as you nestled against him. The truth was, you did feel drained, but nothing out of the ordinary for someone nearing the final stretch of pregnancy—or so you hoped. “The little guy’s keeping me busy”, you added with a weak smile.

But Ben wasn’t convinced. His jaw tightened as he glanced down at you, his gaze lingering on the rise and fall of your belly. A bad feeling gnawed at him, one he couldn’t quite shake. Your pregnancy had been too peaceful so far, almost unnaturally so. And while he’d kept his doubts to himself for the most part, it was becoming harder to ignore the uneasy voice in the back of his mind.

You were just human, after all. And inside you, the first supe baby ever known was growing. Ben couldn’t imagine how your body was managing to handle it all. What if it couldn’t? What if something went wrong? The thought sent a shiver through him, though he kept his face composed for your sake.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “You let me know if anything changes, alright? No toughing it out, no brushing it off”, he murmured, his voice firmer now, edged with his protectiveness.

You opened your eyes briefly, glancing up at him. “I promise”, you said softly, though you couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw, the way his grip on you seemed just a little more desperate than usual. “Ben, I’m okay. Really”.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “Yeah”, he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction. “Let’s keep it that way”.

As you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion finally catching up with you, Ben stayed awake. His hand never left your belly, his mind racing with thoughts of what might come. He’d do anything to keep you and the baby safe—he just hoped he wouldn’t have to.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3 @fallout-girl219

[writerspirit]

Chapter I

Pairing(s): Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader

Series: Schemmenti Family Agenda

Synopsis: After a student makes a comment to Y/n, Melissa takes into consideration what the next steps in your relationship should be.

Themes/Warnings: Fluff, Angst (please let me know if there are any warnings to be aware of)

A/N: I first wrote this part in an early morning surge of energy. I've already started on part two, so be on the lookout for that. I've also started an outline for an Agatha Harkness/Agnes x Fem!Reader w/ "magic baby" trope.

WC: ~ 2.15k

Having kids wasn’t something you thought to ever be on the agenda. It never was with you and Melissa. Both you and her being elementary teachers for Abbott, the only kids you two ever talked about “having” were your students. It has been a nice flow between you professionally. You being the other first grade teacher in the school, a good amount of kids in your class progress to your wife’s classroom in their following school year. These handful of kids are called by the other teachers as the “Double Schemmenti” kids, which you and Melissa find endearing.

These little aspects of your life at Abbott make being a teacher for these kids the best job anyone could ask for. Not to mention having the role of being these kids’ mentor, even sometimes their parent, is a gift in itself. So, whenever babies were a thought, it was more of a subtle whisper, rather than a thought-provoking idea.

That is until Melissa walks into your classroom after school one day to find you with one of your students playing with the deck of cards she so graciously lent for the room. 

“Hey, honey,” she smiles, making her way inside.

“Mrs. Schemmenti!” Aspen squeals. “Mrs. Schemmenti is teaching me how to play Kings in the Corner. It helps with my counting.”

“That’s great, sweetheart.” The redhead looks over at his hand and smiles. “Maybe next year you’ll be able to get a good grasp on poker so that you can beat all the chumps at the table.”

Aspen gives her a quizzical look. You, a furrow of the eyebrows, telling her to test the waters. She mouths a ‘sorry’ along with a low smile. Bringing her attention to your cards, she chuckles. “I don’t know, Mrs. Schemmenti. I think the kid’s hand is just enough to rattle you outta luck.”

Aspen’s smile turns to a little dance in place, in anticipation for his next move. 

You bring yourself to feign a sigh. “I think you might be right. I just can’t believe Aspen is so good already, and it’s his first time playing.”

Melissa shuffles back next to Aspen, who glances at her before she nods. “Take her down, kid.”

He rushes for a card before calculating his line of moves to play. With what seems to be one swift motion, his cards disappear from his hand and onto the floor with the others. “I got ya, Mrs. Schemmenti! Victory is mine!”

You giggle along with him. “You got me!” You and Melissa dance with him, doing your own little dances in place. Once he’s seemed to settle down from his victory dance, you help him pick up the cards.

“Why don’t you practice your shuffling while I talk with Mrs. Schemmenti?”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll go sit at my desk.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a quick little guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is. Smartest kid in the class. Maybe the smartest I’ve ever taught.” You peek at him, seeing if he’s focused on the cards in his hand, which he is. “His mom is working a little late today. The divorce hasn’t been easy for either of them, so I told her that I can stay with Aspen a little later than the allotted time for pickup.”

Melissa sighs. “Don’t I know it. Divorce is tough. I can’t imagine the added stress of having a child during the process.”

You quickly take a look at your watch. “You don’t have to wait up for me. Janine and Ava have step practice today, and I’m sure I can catch a ride with one of them if you want to go home. I know you have grading to get done.”

“I can wait here with you and the little guy. Grading can wait a little longer, and besides, I don’t want you catching a ride with either of ‘em as long as I’m here. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I’d been responsible for another Janine car ride migraine.” Her lips perk up into a smile.

"I swear if I hear another lecture on the benefits of different colored highlighters, I’ll–"

“Mom!” Aspen squeals, getting out of his seat and running to his mother’s arms. She lays a soft kiss on his head.

“Hi, Aspen. How was school?” Dina’s eyes turn from his to yours. “Was he okay?”

You nod. “The little champ beat me in Kings in the Corner.”

“And I know how to shuffle now. So now I can help you when we play Uno.”

“Great job, honey. And I’m sure now you can help me beat Grandpa when he comes to visit next week.”

Aspen seemingly lights up brighter than before. “Grandpa’s coming? Yay!” He envelops her in a hug.

“Honey, why don’t you grab your things so I can talk to your mom?” Your eyes quickly glance at his belongings that sit on and around his desk. 

“I’ll give you two a minute.” Melissa moves towards Aspen. “I’ll help him get his things.”

��Thank you for everything. Really, you’re a lifesaver.” Dina lets a sigh leave her lips. “He’s really been doing great through this whole thing.”

“No disruptions, no problems. I wish I had his positive attitude all the time. And hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind getting beat at cards. He’s a smart kid.”

Dina smiles.

“I’m ready,” Aspen says. He walks up to meet his mother’s side, where she places a hand on his shoulder. “Mrs. Schemmenti?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You’re gonna make a great mom one day,” his smile widens before he says his goodbyes to you and Melissa. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, kid. We’ll see ya,” Melissa adds. She turns to you. “Ready to go?”

“Mhm,” you grab your bag’s handle, but it’s quickly taken away from you when the older woman grabs it. “Melissa, I can carry my stuff.”

“I never said you couldn’t.” She smiles as you grab hold of her arm.

Walking out of Abbott, you both send smiles and your own goodbyes to a few colleagues. Your hand never strays from her arm, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So what are you feeling like for dinner?” She asks.

“Are you asking because you feel like cooking, or are you asking me because you want to just order takeout?”

She chuckles. “I was actually asking because I could go for anything you wanted to cook.”

“Enchiladas, then.”

“Well, they’re your signature.” She places a kiss on your temple.

When you reach the car, she walks with you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you. “My lady,” she smiles watching you take your seat. She hands you your bag, and closes the door.

You reach over to the door and pull the door handle for her. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Anything for my girl,” you say. Her hand instinctively rests on your thigh as she starts the drive to your shared home. You move a hand to graze her arm.

“So,” Melissa starts up a new conversation when you hit upon a red light. “Aspen gave you a really nice compliment there, huh?”

“What?” You take a moment to think back. “Oh… yeah, he’s a really sweet kid. I hope you get to teach him next year. I mean he already loves you.”

Melissa turns the music up a bit, as your favorite song plays. While you’re jamming, she hums along, singing the words in her head. Unbeknownst to you, Melissa is thinking harder than she’d care to admit to about Aspen’s words. Had you given any thought to having a child of your own? She hasn’t expressed any interest in having a mini Melissa since she was younger, when her sister had her first baby.

As if the memory played out word for word, she remembers how crushed she was when, while holding her then baby nephew, Joe completely shut down the idea of growing their family. 

As if you know she needs a distraction of sorts, you speak up, taking her out of her thoughts. “Oh, honey, I think we need to stop at the grocery store. Is that okay with you?”

She nods and forces a smile for you.

– – – –

Melissa’s hand never leaves the small of your back while you push the cart. Along the journey of getting the ingredients necessary for your dinner, she looks around every aisle that you walk through. Almost finished with the aisle you two are currently in, you start your way towards the registers. As you wait in one of the lines, Melissa picks up bits of the couple’s conversation happening in front of her, talking about their excitement in welcoming their own bundle of joy in seven months. 

“Melissa?”

“Hm,” she turns her attention towards you.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been almost quiet since we left school. The only times I ever experience quiet Melissa is when you’re scheming. Well, that or you’re planning someone’s meeting with justice.”

“I’m fine, hon.” She places her hands on either side of your waist, and places a few light kisses on your temple. “I’m perfect.”

– – – –

“Amore,” she starts.

“Hm,” you hum, sipping your wine.

“Nothin’.”

“Baby,” you reach your hand and place it gently on her own. “What’s up?”

She has a glint in her eyes. One you’ve only seen two other times – when she was too nervous to ask you to be her girlfriend, and then again when she asked you to be her wife. By this, you know she has got something big on her mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, her voice not leaving a low tone. She focuses her attention on her plate, trying to collect her thoughts.

“Okay…” you start. “But I will. You have the look.”

“What look?” Her eyes bounce to you, now wide, awaiting your response.

“You’ve only ever looked at me twice like that before, and both times they were because you had something big to get off your chest. Now please…” You place your hand on her thigh. “What is it, Melissa?”

“You ever thought about maybe… I don’t know… it’s just us here. And sometimes I feel it. The… space.”

You stay silent, trying to piece together what she’s going on about. Was she getting sick of you? Was this marriage too much for her? She doesn’t skip a beat though. Her rambling is starting to sound like she is convincing herself of something, in hopes you’ll say what’s bothering her, so she doesn’t have to. That’s when in the midst of your spacing out, there is only one sentence that makes you freeze.

“Maybe an addition to us wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“You want to have a baby,” she can’t tell by your tone if you were stating it as if it were a fact, or rather forming it in a question. “Like… a baby.”

“No, wait, I didn’t say that,” her voice rises in pitch. “Per say.”

You wait a minute, in case she has more to say. “Okay…”

Crap! May day! May day! Retreat! Her thoughts tell her.

She downs the beer that is left in her bottle. Her hands grab for your plates and starts her way to the kitchen. “Just forget I said anything.”

“But, Melissa–”

“Please, just forget it, Y/n.”

– – – –

After dinner, you and Melissa snuggle up on the couch. Your face is nestled in her neck, giving soft kisses where you know she loves them. This would usually lead to you ravaging each other until the sunrise spills through your curtains. Tonight, however, doesn’t look like that is in the cards for you.

Your hand begins drawing patterns on her thigh, as you continue your kisses on her skin. “Your thoughts are loud tonight, my love.”

“Hon,” Melissa whispers, her voice almost impossible to hear over the television. As if on cue, the Dancing With the Stars theme sings for you. “Look, the show is starting.”

The rest of the night is much quieter than usual. Adding to your worry, Melissa doesn’t seem as enthusiastic about the episode as she usually is. There’s no yelling at the television, rarely a chuckle, and not even a snack to go with the episode.

As the episode ends, Melissa breathes a heavy sigh. “Ready for bed?”

You take a look at your phone which reads the time. “Yeah,” you say with simple directions. “Just… give me a minute and I’ll be up.”

She nods as she rises off the couch. She makes sure to place a gentle kiss on your cheek before heading upstairs.

At the sound of Melissa ascending the stairs, you quickly grab your phone. Opening your Contacts app, Barbara Howard’s phone number is already in view for you. With a second to think on a decision, a sigh leaves your lips, and the clicking of the power button shuts the device off.

Sleep on it. Whatever it is.

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[obeymestory]

I don't know if you would like this idea but maybe you could do one where the boys have to deal with a MC that does not like being touched (like it's a trauma thing) and they accidentally lash out at their boyfriend because they didn't know it was them?

Pick what ever boys you want but if you could cqn I have my twins 💙💙💙 if not you can write for whoever

Ps: you write so good!!

Thank you for the compliment friend!!~ I can definitely do that for you!!

✒Lucifer🗃

He would go to take your hand in his, flinching as he barely touched your hand, watching you turn around immediately.

As you lashed out at him, his once calm smile would slowly fade to a frown.

Once you realized it was him you covered your mouth and apologized, trying to stop the tears from coming out of your eyes.

He really wanted to hug you, but as he reached for you he restrained himself, not wanting to upset you or scare you. It's not even something he wanted to think about.

If you gave him permission to hold you, then he would immediately wrap his arms around you, holding you close and resting one hand on your back, the other on the back of your head, keeping your head pressed against his chest, eventually planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me why you reacted like that... but I'll be here to listen if you do."

He would listen to every word, not judging you. If you didn't tell him then he wouldn't mind either, just comforting you the best he could.

💰Mammon💸

"Oi! Oi!! Oi!!! It's jus' me, darlin'." He put his hands up defensively, just moving to get something out of your hair but earning a lash out from you.

Once you realized it was him you sighed and apologized.

He shook his head and put his hands down, pouting softly and murmuring; "I thought ya' were mad at me."

You assured him that you weren't, cupping his face and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

He leaned into your touch, the pout slowly subsiding, reaching up to your wrists so he could keep them still, asking if he could touch you this time before touching you as you consented.

He sighed and gently held your wrists, giving you a worried expression.

He didn't ask because he didn't wanna pry, but you could tell he wanted to know, so he could comfort you better and try to understand why you reacted that way to his touch.

🍥Leviathan🪼

He poked your shoulder, gasping as you turned around so suddenly.

He covered his mouth as you lashed out on him, whimpering softly, not used to seeing you so angry.

"Y-Y/N..." He murmurs, making you realize that you yelled at your poor otaku boyfriend.

You sniffled and hugged him, apologizing over and over.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, hesitant since you just yelled at him about him touching you.

He caresses your back, whispering; "...You wanna go watch anime?"

You pouted and looked up at him, appreciating how he didn't ask why you lashed out on him, agreeing to watch anime with him.

📚Satan🐈‍⬛

He went to wrap his arm around you to surprise you in a GOOD way, but felt you jolt and push him away and widened his eyes as you lashed out at him.

He just stood there stunned, taking in your wrath and blinking.

You realized it was him and shook your head, saying you were sorry and that it wasn't his fault that you lashed out.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He admitted honestly, not holding it against you.

You sighed in relief, glad he wasn't angry at you for lashing out towards him.

He did seem concerned at first, but realized that he may have been in the wrong and taking your past into consideration, not wanting to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

He walked with you, not attempting to touch you for a while until you told him that it was okay to do.

💅Asmodeus🛍

He giggled as he saw you, prancing up to you and putting his hands on your shoulders.

He squeaked as you turned around immediately and lashed out towards him. "Eek!!"

He put his hands up, pouting worriedly as you harshly lashed out.

You realized who you lashed out on and whimpered, pressing your forehead against his chest.

"It's okay, hon. I should've asked before touching you." He admitted, taking your small gesture as a sign that he could safely touch you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a comforting yet loving embrace.

He held you for a while, eventually whispering to you; "I'll be there for you if you ever wanna tell me." He said, noticing the trauma in your eyes as you turned around earlier, not pushing anything and giving you an affectionate smile.

You nodded, calming down and listening to him change the subject, wanting to get your mind off of those bad memories and focus on him again. Even if he changed the subject to himself, he was still endearing.

💪Beelzebub🍔

He held a bag of your favorite food above your head, poking your head to get your attention.

He stepped back and widened his eyes as you suddenly lashed out towards him, his expression going to a more stoic one.

He stayed silent as you realized it was him, not even questioning why you lashed out at him, just holding the bag of food he got for you so you could join him for lunch.

He placed the bag in your hands, not even daring to touch you, having a feeling that that was the issue.

You pouted and looked up at him with a pout, gently holding the bag and apologizing to him.

"Can I touch you?" He asked, keeping a serious expression on his face as he asked.

You nodded and hugged him, thanking him for getting you food.

He wrapped his muscular arms around you tightly yet comfortably, a small smile forming on his face.

"You're welcome. I got your favorite." He smiled more brightly, knowing you'd cheer up instantly upon hearing that.

You perked up and smiled brightly at his words, glad he understood you and didn't make a big deal about you lashing out towards him.

🍣Belphegor🌠

He went to lean his head on your shoulder sleepily, instantly jerking his head away as you yelled at him.

He immediately woke up from your tone, pouting worriedly.

"It's me..." He said softly, watching your face drop.

You hugged him and said you were sorry, earning a surprised hum from him, he chuckled and nodded.

"It's okay. I'll ask next time." He gave a small smile, not minding your anger, finding it quite impressive.

He rubbed your back in lazy circles, hugging you gently and looking at you.

"Let's go home and take a nap together." He murmured.

He gave you a gentle pat on the head, taking both of your hands in his and still smiling as he gazed at you.

He truly loved you, so the wrath you presented when you didn't know it was him, only showed him that you were loyal and only liked him touching you.

He didn't question why you lashed out, deciding not to bring it up since it might be a rough subject, walking with you back to the house of Lamentations, so the two of you could take a well deserved nap.

[dayurno]

kevjean

[luna-loveboop]

I want. Four to get appreciation. Because

Four gave a ton of unnoticed help when Twilight was injured

The fight with Wild was difficult, and I know we're all concerned about his negative view of the shadow crystal

But Four did something that no one else really thought of to help- He took care of Twi's stuff

From the beginning he told Twilight to not worry about them

So Four took care of pretty much everything but the others (that Sky and Wars handled)

He took care of Epona

Which is so very important- he took care of Twilight's horse. After her arrival at the stable Four followed up on her

And for Epona, a horse so attached to her human, having some company can help so much for reassurance

He took care of Twilight's stuff

He got Twi's shield- his bags and equipment, and organized it into one place

And he was worried. He obviously found the shadow crystal while handling Twi's stuff, but his negative reactions to it were out of concern.

Also- because of his placement in this scene

I'm fairly convinced Four was ready to start cooking before Wild showed up (since he's beside the counter with food supplies). At the very least he had the basket of fruit out for everyone -but he was literally standing with food behind him- he thought of everything

And he did housekeeping!

Wars payed for the inn, so Four took care of the inn

Realistically these boys were probably not too concerned with tidyness. Four got all of Twi's things on one table, and took care of the room they stayed in

Organizing tables and Twi's things, having food supplies ready, and opening the curtains- overall he was the one tidying up the inn

Four helped in a huge way! He took care of Twi's horse (Epona is so important), his equipment and shield and bag, as well as the other rooms in the inn

Four filled in all the little tasks that others didn't think of. He helped in ways that were needed, but not obvious

There's a lot of problems with the shadow crystal and with Wild, and I don't know what's gonna happen in the future

But don't forget this- don't forget that Four was one who stepped up in an almost unnoticeable way

Don't forget that when everyone was barely holding it together, Four visited Twilight's horse and took care of his things

No matter what develops in the future- this amount of care shown is important ya know?

.

Art and comic from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)))

[triglycercule]

killer being like "yeah i know every single little thing about horror and dust" (because he watches them as a part time hobby (freak) (find something better to do)) and then he acts surprised when they do something that he wouldnt expect them to do in his little predetermined absolutely perfect concept of them

like what do you MEAN horror licks spoons clean when he's using them so he doesn't have to get a completely different one for the main course and the dessert. what do you MEAN dust has a lisp even though he speaks fluently and uses even more complex words than killer himself. horror knows how to sew and he often patches up their things without either of them noticing?? dust always wears oversized and clothes that cover him up just because he finds it comfy?? what??? out ra geous???? these guys have small little quirks to them that killer doesn't already know about???? killer immediately wants to know more. so he can expand his internal profile of them of course. not for any other more endearing and sweet reason. not at all,,,,,,,, (:3)

[bleachbleachbleach]

@recurring-polynya

😂😂 Honestly, it probably works?? Like, Iba's won over instantly by this, of course. But he plays it off cool, because at the forefront of his brain, always, is his desire to be as fair and considerate as Captain Komamura is. But he can't help but let slip the fact of their having brought up their Hiroshima-ben practice, and their having successfully modeled it, because that's just factual information, right? It's not an unearned endorsement! Right?

Komamura scratches his neck and and after some deep thought he reasons, hmmmm, yes, such a thing demonstrates dogged commitment to a very particular skillset, which is the kind of dedication and somewhat idiosyncratic focus that makes a good shinigami, and Iba should pass them on to the second round interview stage, certainly!

Byakuya's third cousin reminds me of people I've known who grew up as "the smart kid" in their rural Midwestern town and aren't used to being in spaces where they are not THE Smart Kid and rewarded for this identity. Bless his heart! Meanwhile, I went to California public school, where we all learned that everyone is an insignificant worm! *Rukia pose*

--

@buruburublue

YESSSS. YOU HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE. <3 And you're welcome! Usually we try to include both the JP and the official English translation, because I know that some people like to see both, and I think it's nice to see both. But I don't have a digital copy of English Colorful Bleach, so this post just got JP+me.

As far as vibe and morale go, surely the 10th is in the upper quartile of divisions. Even if Hitsugaya isn't going to presume to know what kind of environment people need or enjoy, his idea of what SHOULDN'T be happening is probably more than enough to avoid an actively hostile work environment. And Matsumoto's very good at this kind of thing, even if she probably terrifies the newbies because 1) She's not afraid of pushing people out of their comfort zones, and 2) can you imagine how devastating it would be to disappoint Vice Captain Matsumoto?

Joe Shinigami Job Market

Last month I read an article about tennis rankings that--as would surely be true of most people who read it--made me think about the Gotei:

The greats in tennis often become known by their first names – Roger, Rafa, Serena – but the rest of us are known by a number, our world ranking. To a greater extent than in any other sport, world ranking determines who you play, where you play and how much money you make. Tennis players have a deep and lasting relationship with their highest ranking. (Mine was 129.) [x]

You have your famous, Captain- and VC-ranked shinigami, whose names you're more likely to know than not; and maybe some of the higher-seated officers are named entities, too, if you're really up on your Gotei trivia. And then after that you have your Joe Shinigami. People within the same division might have a decent sense of who those officers are in seats 3-20, but beyond that you're probably relatively anonymous. All the same, there's probably a whole complicated hierarchy that only the people embroiled in the same vicinity of it as you are have any clear sense of that Captains and probably VCs, too, cannot make heads nor tails of, even if they tried (and only some do). These finer hierarchies are probably related to that reiatsu ranking element that comes up like twice re: Kaien and then in the Hell Chapter, but we're never told how that works so let's leave that for now.

The tennis article goes on to discuss what it means to be the "best of the rest," where in comparison to the world population, you are insanely, insanely talented!! But because of the size of the stage, you're no one. And this is a really compelling space for me, in terms of contemplating how a lot of Joe Shinigami live in the world, and how it feels to be them, because the gap between Captains and unseated shinigami is stupid huge, insurmountable, and because the tasks at hand are so often Captain-levle and not, in fact, Joe Shinigami-level, even extremely talented Joe Shinigami level:

The true unfortunates, though, were the ones who were talented enough to rationally hope to advance. These were people who grew up as the best tennis players in their country, but were stuck between 300 and 600 in the world, not quite contending for the Challenger Tour nor the qualifiers at grand slams, but winning just often enough to keep their tennis dream faintly alive. [x]

Like, these are the seated or the not quite seated. The ones who might get good enough at zanjutsu or kidou to distinguish themselves, or maybe even have a shot at shikai. That upper echelon being highly-seated is completely out of the question, realistically, like "no matter how hard you flap you cannot fly" out of the question, but you're pretty good. You're good enough it makes sense to strive for a seat, or for shikai. Even as you're just utterly useless in the scheme of all these bankai people, or in a war where, frankly, all those bankai people are themselves getting mowed down without too much fuss. It's a hard place to be!

The "true unfortunates" being described are probably all the elite, highly-talented shinigami we're introduced to as being fairly useless. The Shinos and Ryuunosukes and Kurumadanis and that-one-guy-who-gave-us-outsider-narrative-before-Mayuri-blew-him-up of the world. Even the Iemuras, and that guy's actually very highly-ranked.

I just really like the duality of all these guys coming across as hapless and a little pathetic, and I think that's probably real; but at the same time they have been trained. They had to make it through the Academy and get selected into a division. I think that speaks to that massive divide in perspective/experience between the people at the top and the rest of everyone. Like, what do you really want to look for when hiring Joe Shinigami? Aptitude for shikai is probably, honestly, an unreasonable benchmark. Plus there's a good chance they're going to die whether they're Very Good or Pretty Good, because everyone's in that band of "probably in over their heads with this," even when there's not a TYBW going on, because it kind of seems like shinigami were getting eaten left and right by regular Hollows in Karakura, too.

And what are they getting paid for that honor? 2 million kan a year? That's about 700,000 kan above minimum wage in yen in 2001 (or, let's say as a very rough estimate, 7000 USD). I've seen Reddit people say is not that much money; and that's true, but it's also about what a well-paid grad student would be making (that is, the ones who are being paid at all). Most grad students are probably not at risk of death every day of their sad little jobs, but to my mind that seems like a reasonable point of reference for what kind of training and what sort of expectation one might have of a Joe Shinigami.

If you, too, would like to read an article about Joe Shinigami, I recommend that article, which is about Joe Shinigami, not competitive tennis!

Which brings me to the other side of the equation, and the Division job ads in the SC issue of Colorful Bleach, which I love dearly. In these ads, each division's captain and VC share qualities that a successful candidate would have, as well as pertinent information about their division. Except that everyone's answers have almost nothing to do with actual job qualifications (Sasakibe wants someone who can grow plants) and reflect very little thought about who they want. It goes back to what I said earlier: If they meet the base requirement of having graduated the Academy, they're probably gonna get in somewhere, unless they are truly Too Weird for the Gotei and the Vibes are Bad (see: vindictive not-shinigami in Bleach filler arcs).

Hitsugaya's is my favorite (from the unbiased and objective perspective I always strive for in fandom) because they are the LOWEST EFFORT OF THEM ALL aside from Soi Fon's (Soi Fon refuses to respond to almost all of the questions).

I mentioned in an earlier post that the soundbites read like the SC journalist was running after people who were preoccupied with something else, and said journalist just transcribed whatever nothing answer fell out of their mouths, and that's on display well here, because the answers are in very casual spoken vernacular. Bro did not spare a single thought for this exercise:

[Colorful Bleach]

[Desired personnel?] Guys who work hard.

[How is the division's atmosphere?] Good, wouldn't you say?

[Application requirements?] Nothing in particular.

[Any words for the prospectives?] Anyone who's interested can come whenever.

Which, like, yeah, if that's what your job ad says, then of course you're going to get hapless, somewhat pathetic Joe Shinigami! You've brought this on yourself!

But this also feels kind of legit to me, because even pre-TYBW and everyone dying, you're trying to fill seats and stay staffed to fulfill whatever slate of duties you drew from the pile of things the Gotei doesn't quite have the numbers to manage. And I think it speaks to an important part of the perspective here, which I think is partly not putting effort into answering the question; partly an issue of scale/demand outstripping supply; and partly struggling to really be able to (or care to) gauge the difference between 670th-ranked shinigami recruit and 863rd-ranked shinigami recruit. From your POV (the POV of outlier class) all Joe Shinigami are kind of the same, practically speaking; that is, everyone is statistically toeing the same baseline. For this purpose, what separates a good recruit from a bad one isn't really about existing qualifications, but the ability to be trained into whatever protocols your division operates by, and going from there. So yeah, be willing to work hard, in this case, and whatever will be will be!

[krispiecake]

tell me why i can hear another tenants fucking music from my flat. HE DOESNT EVEN LIVE IN MY BUILDING. HE LIVES IN A COMPLETELY SEPARATE BUILDING ON THE SECOND FLOOR AND I CAN HEAR HIS MUSIC FROM MY FLAT. MY FLAT WHICH IS IN A DIFFERENT SEPARATE BUILDING.

[total-drama-brainrot]

What if Geoff wasn't the nice, chill surfer party dude who had no problems with anyone and was friends with everyone?

No, nobody can be that nice. No teenager can be that okay with every person in the camp. No, Geoff hid it. It was a common tactic he used to get people not constantly pissed at him before (it was just annoying). Pretending to be this dumb party dude fooled everyone into believing he was that because why would you ever question HIS motives? He's just a dumb party dude!

But pretending was so, so hard. You see, he had to pretend he liked these people.

Too hard.

And one day, he slipped up.

Interesting. So Geoff's friendly demeanour and sufer boy energy is all, what, a ruse he uses to portray himself as less of a threat in the competition?

It would be an effective game plan; Geoff makes it pretty far into the game in Island, and a lot of his survivability stems from his social strengths and the fact that he's not really seen as a threat in the competition - he's a lot like Owen in that regard, just less intense with his friendliness. You could have Geoff intentionally imitate a lot of Owen's mannerisms after he notices how generally liked (or at least tolerated) he is, and it'd explain their similarities quite nicely.

It does make me wonder what Geoff would be like underneath his act. Your ask implies that he's, if not entirely misanthropic, then a lot less easygoing and amicable as he's shown to be in canon. Someone easily annoyed by others, who perhaps doesn't really have the patience to deal with a lot of the shenannagins that happen on the show, even if he pretends he does... and even if his whole game plan revolves around maintaining that misconception.

That's not to say that he isn't the Geoff we all know and love from canon. He's still the same person, he's just... not as benign. At least not internally.

You could take inspiration for this Geoff from his portrayal in Action, or maybe even his vindicitiveness from World Tour (against Blaineley, just make that energy universal) to base a lot of his real character on; a Geoff who isn't exactly antagonistic, but has a mean streak and a tendancy to hold grudges. And, of course, he'd keep the same natural charisma canon Geoff has, even if his "himbo charm" is fake.

Then it's just a case of replacing his usual good-natured aloofness with cool apathy, or even a spiteful disrgard of others, and you've got yourself the perfect canvas for a wolf in sheep's clothing.

And he's also got his friendships with the Bass boys - Harold excluded, of course - which, considering Duncan's influence, would be a nice outlet for his less sociable tendencies. A way to let loose without having to expose himself as less good-natured than he lets on.

Bringing it back to Owen, and their shared similarities: Geoff could esaily attach himself to Owen post merge, similarly to how Heather attaches herself to Lindsay, as not only a social buffer (though Geoff doesn't really need one, unlike Heather) but as a sort of pawn in the competition. The "boy's alliance" would be the perfect time to have Geoff try to integrate Owen into his social circle, which is pretty much what happens in canon anyway.

Keeping Owen as close as possible is the most strategically sound move on Geoff's part. The closer he is to Owen, the easier it is to cherry pick what aspects of Owen's personality he's going to imitate. He's also got himself at least one secured vote (in theory, since Owen's known to be easily swayed).

The issue with this?

Geoff finds Owen almost unbearable to be around.

Which is ironic, given that he's conciously and intentionally trying to be as Owen-like as possible, but it's true. He can't understand how anyone can be as unconditionally and authentically cordial as Owen is, and it pisses him off. He has a hard enough time acting friendly and warm around people he doesn't like, but when it comes to doing the same with someone he actively despises?

It's enough to wear his already thin patience down until it snaps.

[youngpettyqueen]

it is so funny to see other people who go with the O'Briens polycule thing but its clearly just an excuse for them to sideline Keiko and ignore her and ship Julian/Miles without guilt. like you ship this polycule cause of misogyny. I ship this polycule because I am blessed with divine visions. we are not the same

[ikilledamanforthisurl]

i'm not sure if this is bias from someone whose only seen voy+ds9 or if it's maybe more due to the setting of ds9 (a place people visit instead of people who visit places) but it is soooo delightful seeing all the PEOPLE!!! all of these unspeaking extras all dressed up in weird costume and extraordinary makeup. all of these aliens so different from one another and yet blending perfectly and harmoniously into the background, entirely irrelevant but no doubt leading unique and interesting lives. that probably sounds contradictory to love seeing the people when the show is no longer about Exploring To Meet People but idk something about ds9 feels different. feels alive and intriguing. maybe ds9 simply cant throw in human extras and call it a day like on a starfleet vessel because that just Is Not The Setting but also maybe ds9 does it willingly. happily. look at all of these different people. so many good unique character gimmicks get used in ds9 namely related to business owners/local workers and we are only so blessed with getting to know a few of them. a spy from the planet of state servitude who is drawn to the mundane and hedonistic self gratification owns a tailoring shop because hes banished from home. a bar tender who gets blackmailed into staying and his cop-vs-criminal dynamic best frenemy the Unknown Sample butt heads every day. all of the bajorans and their religious sites!!!!!! the school!!!!!! a worker from Capitalism Planet forms a union and then quits his job to be a freelance engineer and his sex worker wife who he loves very much. a guy from some sorta warrior culture who instead works as a chef serving live worms to his patrons who'll also burst into song during downtime. all of the shady visitors dealing in illicit substances and goods. all of the weird shapes and colours on these visitors from races whose names we may not even know. one of the starfleet crew guys gives birth to litters and he does this multiple times and some longterm professor on the station has a transparent skull and all this & more is conveyed to us strictly thru crewmembers gossiping about all the strange new different People around them because this show is all about People

[fluentisonus]

tbh this book would be stronger without his occasional weird jabs at communists, like I feel like all they end up doing is undermining his own themes & leaving one with the impression he's either willfully or accidentally (in a way that makes him look kind of silly) misunderstanding marx et al.'s points

[uniquezombiedestiny]

...