#i looked through so many write ups about these fish and like none of them mentioned the live broadcast aspect

[sparrowlucero]

So what do we think Beebe's fish were then? I heard tell that the sailfin might have been a squid and that the angelfish was probably a comb jelly, but what about the giant dragonfish or the rainbow gar?

For those not in the know, in the 1930s, biologist William Beebe (who you (read: I) might know as the guy who predicted microraptor) and engineer Otis Barton (hollywood actor?? and designer of fucked up submarines and "jungle spaceships", ok otis) got into a fucked up submarine and went to the bottom of the ocean off the coast of bermuda (in what, iirc, was the first study of deep sea fish in their natural habitat), where he described several fish unknown to science. None of these fish have been identified since. (Side Note: to continue off of "audubon was unfamiliar with the bald eagle" in my last post, this one also has a theory I find a bit silly in "perhaps they just hallucinated fake fish from oxygen deprivation" despite both witnessing the same fish and a lot of his scary book about the dive that you can read here including many lucid observations of known species. It wasn't like he got down there and only saw weird fish and nothing else) The fish in order: Three-starred anglerfish, Abyssal Rainbow Gar, Pallid sailfin, Five-lined Constellation Fish

and yeah I do see why people think these might have been invertebrates mistakenly identified as fish. In his book, Beebe holds off on describing unfamiliar fish if he didn't see them well, but, you know, those little gars really do look like squid. I personally think the most likely one to be a real fish is the angler, since he saw it closely and was able to note several physiological differences in jaw structure that distinguished it from other angler fish.

The most notable one is the "Untouchable Bathysphere Fish", a giant 6 foot long dragonfish (largest known dragonfish is about 2 feet long):

Several minutes later, at 2100 feet, I had the most exciting experience of the whole dive. Two fish went very slowly by, not more than six or eight feet away, each of which was at least six feet in length. They were of the general shape of large barracudas, but with shorter jaws which were kept wide open all the time I watched them. A single line of strong lights, pale bluish, was strung down the body. The usual second line was quite absent. The eyes were very large, even for the great length of the fish. The undershot jaw was armed with numerous fangs which were illumined either by mucus or indirect internal lights. Vertical fins well back were one of the characters which placed it among the sea-dragons, Melanostomiatids, and were clearly seen when the fish passed through the beam. There were two long tentacles, hanging down from the body, each tipped with a pair of separate, luminous bodies, the upper reddish, the lower one blue. These twitched and jerked along beneath the fish, one undoubtedly arising from the chin, and the other far back near the tail. I could see neither the stem of the tentacles nor any paired fins, although both were certainly present. This is the fish I subsequently named Bathysphera intacta, the Untouchable Bathysphere Fish.

I believe this solely because it's really cool Though I want posit a theory I've never heard before: it's almost never remarked upon that he discovered these weird fish over a live (now lost media that no one is searching for, get on that) NBC radio broadcast. Maybe he just made up some cool sea monsters with a big climactic sea serpent for said broadcast, both because I would totally do that if it were me and also so he had a good excuse to sign off and get the fuck out of this situation:

[spidercatweb]

Perfect Match ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, a little bit of jealous!Spencer 😊, plenty of nervous!Spencer, fluff, a tiny bit of angst i guess, happy ending, r uses dating apps, Garcia and r are besties!!, umm nothing else!

Description: Garcia's wonderful idea of getting r to use dating apps to find her perfect match is not working very well. Spencer gets a little distant when r mentions her plans for a date. r confronts him about this, which leads to confessions, a cancelled date, and a date to take it's place. <3

Word Count: 1,843

Request: "for spencer x reader? early spencer is too shy to ask reader out but reader starts talking about dating and dating apps and Spencer gets really jealous and ends up telling reader he likes them but hes a stuttering mess the whole time?"

A/n: oh em gee 😈😈😈 i enjoyed writing this... i have no experience w dating apps so uhh idk 🤷‍♀️ but i hope this is what you asked for! <3

You weren’t desperate for a boyfriend, you were just getting tired of waiting for the right guy to miraculously appear. So, per Garcia’s suggestions, dating apps seemed to be the best choice. She had also suggested speed-dating at one point, but that was definitely not your thing. So, dating apps it was.

For the past few weeks, you’d spent around twenty minutes a day on these apps. So far, you haven’t had any luck.

Boring. Gross. Likely to become an unsub.

These were the types of men you’d been seeing on the several dating apps you had downloaded.

Maybe the problem was that you were looking for perfect.

On a slow day at the BAU, you sat in Garcia’s office. Her chair was pulled up close to yours as she peered over at your phone screen. It was fun to look at different men’s profiles with a friend.

“Come on, he’s cute!” Garcia swoons.

“No!” He looks like that enucleator we caught last week.” You laugh, swiping left.

Garcia sighs dramatically, “You’re no fun. If you keep up with that attitude you’ll never find a date!” She nudges you with her shoulder while catching a glimpse of the new profile that appeared on your screen.

“I just have standards! Unlike some people.” You tease.

Your attention flashes back to your phone screen. You swipe through the man’s several photos. Attractive. And none of him holding up a fish he caught, that’s a good start. “Hmm.” You go to read his profile information.

“Enjoys reading, quiet nights in, and… horror movies. Okay…” You nod slowly, “Average height, same age as me. Aww, he has a cat.”

“Perfect! I don’t need to know anything else! Swipe right, give him a chance!” Penelope urges you to swipe right.

“Okay,” you giggle, “But if he’s a creep it’s your fault!”

“Oh if he’s a creep, I’ll find out before you do. I am definitely going to background check every single one of your potential partners. Only the best for my girl.”

Your investigation of another man’s profile is interrupted by a knock at the door of Penelope's office.

“Come in!” She shouts loud enough for whoever’s on the other side of the door to hear.

Spencer enters the room with a slight look of confusion on his face, “Hi. What are you guys doing?” He closes the door behind him.

Garcia cheerily explains the situation, “Well, I’m helping Y/n find her dream man. She’s very picky though, maybe you could help find her perfect match with that genius brain of yours.”

“Oh, um-” he laughs nervously, “how exactly are you finding her perfect match? And, statistically speaking, it’s incredibly rare for someone to find their so-called perfect match. There are too many variables to consider. You’d need a very specific set of traits, and of course, nobody is perfect-”

Garcia cuts him off, something she doesn’t do often, “Ah ah ah! You will not make her feel like this is useless!” She points a finger in his face. “And we’ve got her on a few dating apps, of course. Also, not that I don’t enjoy your company, because I love it very much, but why are you in here?”

“JJ wanted you to see her in her office, something about a new case, I think. She texted you but you weren’t answering.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! I guess I was pretty distracted. I’ll go see her right away!” She hops up from her chair and heads towards the door, “You two lovelies have fun while I’m gone! Don’t touch my tech!”

You both giggle as she leaves the room.

An awkward silence washes over the two of you as you’re left alone. You swivel slightly in your chair, phone in hand, your bright screen shows a photo of a man you and Penelope were looking at before Spencer came in. You catch Spencer staring at it from across the room, so you shut your phone off and laugh nervously.

“I, um- Garcia wanted me to try some dating apps, she thinks I’m lonely.” You laugh slightly, “I really don’t know how people are okay with just dating absolute strangers who they know nothing about. That’s really scary to me, I’d much rather date someone I’m already friends with.” You hope Spencer doesn’t think too hard about that last part. Because it would certainly be embarrassing if he figured out you meant him. You’d much rather date him.

“Romantic relationships started online do tend to have a higher failure rate than relationships started in person. And romantic relationships started with someone you’re already close with have the highest rate of success. I really don’t see how people could form a meaningful connection with someone they’ve never met or even spoken to before. I think I would find it hard, not even hearing someone’s voice.” Spencer fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater.

You nod your head, agreeing with him. “I don’t know why I’m using dating apps. It’s not like I have time to date anyway. I spend all my time here.” You huff out a sad laugh.

“No- you- you deserve to have someone, you shouldn’t say that.” Spencer strides closer to you, leaning against Penelope’s desk. “I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. I mean, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re funny, kind, attractive-” He pauses, stopping himself, “It’s really only a matter of time.” A slight blush tints his cheeks, he gives you a kind smile.

You look up at him, mirroring his smile. “I guess so.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had much luck then? With dating apps, I mean.”

“No, not really. But there is this one guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Oh.” he nods, you notice something in his eyes. Disappointment? He was never very good at hiding his feelings. “What's he like?”

“Well, his name is Nick. We’ve been talking for about… a week? I think? We might go on an actual date soon, I think I’m going to ask him.” You grin, thinking about the kind exchanges you’d been having with the man.

“That- That’s really nice. I hope it goes well.” No extra statistics, straight to the point. Odd.

***

A conversation later that day led to you actually asking Nick on a real, in-person date. You only have so much free time, why not spend it enjoying yourself? So, that was it. You officially had a date scheduled for Saturday night. Only three days away.

***

Nothing of note happened for the next three days,though you did see Spencer acting differently. Less rambles, less conversations in the break room, more silent glances he thought you didn’t notice.

At the end of the day on Friday, you catch him before he gets to the elevator. “Spence!”

He turns around to face you, clearly a little startled, “Yeah?” He clutches the strap of his satchel that goes across his chest.

“Are you- Did I do something? Why haven’t you been talking to me?” You attempt to keep a neutral tone, but sadness seeps through.

“I have been talking to you, what do you mean? We talked about the case today-”

“No. You know what I mean, Spencer. You haven’t- went on a fifteen minute ramble about like- sea urchins and their contributions to the ecosystem- or whatever. You’ve been avoiding me.” You can barely look him in the eyes. He’s been one of your closest friends for years and now he’s acting differently. It hurts.

He rushes to explain himself, “Y/n, no. I- You were um-” He pauses. Lying will only make it worse. “You told me about how you were going on dating apps, and how- how you’re going on a date this weekend and-” He takes a breath, “It just really- I was jealous.” He sighs, his face reddens immediately.

“What?” Did I just hear that correctly? Jealous?

“I was jealous I-” He runs his hands over his face, “I am jealous. I’m sorry.”

“So you… are jealous… that I’m going on a date?” You’re still confused.

He nods slowly, avoiding eye contact with you. His face gets more red by the second.

“Because… you want to go on a date with me?” You feel your cheeks warming up, your tone is soft, you ask the question carefully.

“I-” He clears his throat, “Yes. I really- Yeah.” He sighs like he was holding his breath. “I’m sorry, that’s so unprofessional, and I know I shouldn’t treat you differently because of how I feel. I should’ve been thinking about how it would affect the team-”

It takes you two tries to interrupt his nervous ramble, “Spencer.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, you stopped his train of thought completely.

“If you really feel that way, then I’d love to go on a date with you.” You give him a reassuring smile.

He stays silent for a few moments, processing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

His smile grows, “Yeah?” he huffs out a surprised laugh. “But what about your other date?”

You giggle, “He- I think he’ll understand. I’m also pretty sure Garcia found some weird stuff about him while she was snooping around so…”

“Ah. Okay.” He nods, “So when… When were you thinking? I mean you don’t have to decide right now of course.”

You can’t hold back a giddy smile. “How about tomorrow? Lunch at the cafe by the used book store?”

“That sounds really nice.” He nods again, eagerly.

“Okay, great. Um- does sometime around twelve work? I can text you when I’m on my way?” You fidget nervously with your necklace.

“Yeah, of course.”

You both stand silently for a few moments, both in disbelief that this is actually happening.

“Um- I should-” Spencer points behind him to the elevator doors.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Your face warms even more, you’d forgotten he was about to leave, “See you tomorrow.”

He echoes back, “See you tomorrow.” He grins as he walks into the elevator. As the doors shut in front of him, you both wave happily at each other.

***

Penelope comes running out from the glass doors of the BAU, “What was that!?” She rapidly waves a pointed finger between you and the elevator.

“Nothing! It was nothing! I was just saying goodnight!” You laugh nervously.

“Liar!! I know that face!” She gasps, “You asked him out!? Oh my gosh! Finally!!” She takes your wordless grin as a yes, and catches you in a tight hug. “You two are going to be so cute, I just know it!” she lets you out of her grasp, “And I won’t tell anyone, pinkie promise.”

***

The Tuesday after your’s and Spencer’s date –which went extremely well, ending with a promised second date after your next case– you notice the rest of the team snickering about the two of you not-so-subtly. The next time you see Penelope, you give her a knowing glare, but you don’t scold her. Really, it’s better the team finds out now rather than later, in some horribly embarrassing way. Unfortunately, this means you’ll have to be signing some paperwork soon.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

[diremoone]

quiet kisses | r. sukuna

prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”

requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗

a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3

w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.

This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.

You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.

What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.

You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.

You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”

Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”

“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”

“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”

You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. “You idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.

Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.

But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?

And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.

Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”

You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”

The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.

Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.

Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.

You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.

“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.

Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.

“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”

He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.

When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.

“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.

“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”

Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.

“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”

Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.

“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”

You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?

Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”

“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.

You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.

Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss | @missmuffinr

[optimist-pine]

Returns

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl finds something in his pack that doesn't belong to him... (ps. it's yours)

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: This is a silly little thank you for everyone who's been supporting my writing! If you've liked/commented/reblogged any of my works recently, this is for you. :)

Daryl digs around in his backpack, shoving aside arrow bits and extra clothes in the search for a clean(ish) rag he knows is buried in here somewhere. Ah, there, the glimpse of a red hue must be what he's looking for. He tugs it free, but as he brings it into the daylight it comes to his attention that this piece of cloth doesn't belong to him.

He drops it immediately, head swiveling to make sure nobody saw. But no, he's tucked far away from the rest of the group, not a soul in sight. He gingerly picks up the garment before realizing how ridiculous he's being and shoves it in his pocket. He'll slip into your tent, return it, and get the hell out of there and get on with the rest of his day.

Everyone's either dispersed to other parts of the farm or busy enough completing whatever chores they've taken on to notice him. Even if he didn't already know which tent was yours, it'd be obvious from the plethora of herbs and flowers hanging to dry by the entrance, and the dog-eared foraging guidebook waiting on a lawn chair for your return.

He peers through the screen window to assure himself that you're not around before unzipping the door and stepping inside. A moment too late, he realizes the amount of dirt he's just tracked into your otherwise pristine living space, and curses. Nothing to do about it now he supposes. He squats down, opening your pack and pulling the wayward item out of his pocket.

"Daryl? What're you doing in my-" Your voice makes him jump before your words falter.

His head snaps to you; you're bent down a bit, hands on your hips with sweat dripping down your temple. Your mouth is stuck in a cute little "o" of pure confusion. He's frozen, hand halfway between him and your belongings, lungs stuck mid-breath. He really should say something in his own defense.

"Is that my underwear?" You ask a little more quietly.

"I - uh..." He gapes. He's invading your privacy in so many ways, you're going to think he's a total ass if not a complete creep. And he actually doesn't mind you too much so he doesn't want you to think of him in that way. Not that you think of him at all. But now when you do you're going to hate his guts. "They - uh..." He tries.

"Ohh. I get it." You say, nodding, like this all makes total sense. "I've got something of yours I've been meaning to return, just wasn't sure how to make it not-awkward..." You kneel down beside him, fishing around in a side compartment on your bag. "Buuuut no matter. I believe these belong to you." You hold out a pair of faded boxers that've been rolled up neatly.

"Hey, Rick wants to know if-" Glenn appears in the tent opening and Daryl can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head as he takes in the two of you so close together, each obviously holding the other's intimates. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Just go talk to Rick when you're done or whatever, okay?" He sighs, walking away.

Daryl wastes no time grabbing his boxers, shoving them in his pocket. You do the same but with more grace, standing to brush off your pants.

You let out a small chuckle, biting down a bit on your lip. "It was so hectic when we left the CDC; must've grabbed each other's stuff then." You step outside and he follows. "Thanks for returning them." You say, stooping to re-zip the tent.

The CDC is such a blur that it takes effort to remember. There weren't enough rooms for everyone and so you'd asked to bunk with him. Even though he was sufficiently intoxicated that night, he'd been lucid enough to appreciate not being alone, your steady breaths in the unsettling darkness had quieted his nerves.

He can't seem to make his eyes stay on you for long, though that doesn't stop your gaze from lingering - he can practically feel every place your eyes land as you study him. "S'no problem." He shrugs.

"Well, I guess I'd better go see what Rick wants..." you sigh, making no noticeable effort to go anywhere.

You're leaving a space for him to say something but he doesn't really have anything to add to that. "Yeah." He replies dumbly.

A soft smile grows upon your lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Some of us actually enjoy your company." You nudge his shoulder good-naturedly as you walk away.

He mulls over your words, trying dissect what that last little bit means. You were just being kind, right? He's pretty sure people have barely put up with his company, let alone enjoyed it. Realizing you've already been gone for multiple minutes he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and trudges off, noting that there's at least a few hours of good daylight left to make use of. But those thoughts are still there, nagging, toying with him.

---

A couple of days later, when Daryl returns to his camp after a successful enough trip into the woods, there sits your well-loved guidebook. It's laying on the ground where you must've set it when you stopped by earlier and forgotten it when the two of you headed out. He picks it up, flipping through the bent pages and your frequent notes when he passes one that makes him stop and turn back. Next to chanterelle mushrooms you've scribbled 'Daryl - pair w/ venison' . He hadn't caught game that big since back at the quarry, and even then the geeks got to it first. A small swell of pride rises within him at the thought of you planning ahead in this way, of you counting on him to provide.

The feeling follows him as he settles down for the night. Pulling out a flashlight he figures he might as well see if there's anything he can learn from your book... Or maybe that's just an excuse to search for more of your annotations. He'll have another return to make in the morning, but he can't quite bring himself to mind all that much.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The lovely @piranhaincaps shared the above with me, and I... Hng. Nikprice, Nikprice, Nikprice.

It's a quiet summer evening and Nik stumbles across his captain reading about princes and scarlet sails.

cw: none.

Nik finished stacking the dishwasher and stretched his back, hands pressed to the base. The captain's cooking had improved significantly since they had settled in Meols, but he still used every bowl, pan and utensil their small kitchen could stock and the clean up operation was always significant.

The old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight o'clock and Nik considered the open backdoor. John had left to water the plants about an hour ago, which meant he had been distracted by something. Nik grabbed his bottle of beer and headed out to make sure he wasn't about to embark on yet another building project.

The summer air was still warm, even though the sun was disappearing on the horizon. Being so close to the Irish sea meant there was always a fresher tang beneath the heat, and Nik drew in a deep breath as he studied their small garden.

John hated neatly trimmed grass, which had surprised Nik given his military background. No, he liked wild flowers that attracted the bees and butterflies, and growing vegetables they could cook. Their garden had ended up a colourful mishmash of organised chaos, both beautiful and utilitarian. Like John. Nik loved it.

But there was no captain toiling amongst the blooms. Instead, he sat on the patio beneath the awning, bare but for his khaki cargo shorts. A cold beer sat on the table next to him, the pint glass glistening with condensation where the summer heat clung to it, and he held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke drifting lazily into the warm ombre of the sky.

John was just as handsome as the day they had met. He had been a sergeant back then, fewer lines, less grey, but the same serious, bright blue eyes he had now as he read the novel propped on one thigh. As they had aged together, those blue eyes had filled with shadows but Nik had fought to make sure they had also filled with laughter in equal measure. His captain deserved that.

Nik wandered over and deposited himself in the second chair, grinning at the title of the novel. "Scarlet Sails. A romance, John," Nik teased.

A Russian classic, and written in its mother tongue. John had started learning Russian when Nik had started courting him, and now that he had retired he was chewing through Russian literature with a voracious appetite. They were a little more highbrow than the Dan Brown and Tom Clancy novels otherwise cluttering their overburdened bookshelves.

"This one better have a happy ending, Nik. The last one ripped my heart out my arsehole," John murmured, pausing to take a drag from his cigar. Nik watched the smoke leave his nose and was reminded of an aging dragon in repose.

"You forget, so many of these tales were written by men surrounded by anger and austerity. It is difficult to write about hope and happiness when you cannot conceive of these things." Nik's bare toes curled against the warm paving beneath them.

John looked up and fixed Nik with narrow eyes. "Is this a bloody tragedy too? You told me it was a fairytale."

"No tragedy, happy ending, I promise. Grin took his characters far away so he did not have to write something... ideologically driven by the realities of the USSR. It is an ending more suited to your tastes."

"Hmm," John grabbed his bookmark - a folded leaflet advertising a nearby fishing hotspot - and let the novel close. "How did you survive in that environment and still," John waved his cigar in a vague circle, "become you."

"Become me?"

Nik liked this game. John found words of an emotional nature challenging, and he flushed red, became flustered, when Nik pressed him. It was like stroking the soft centre of a noble turtle. "Like, you... uh, kind, and... funny."

"Spasibo," Nik replied, with a grin.

"Pozhaluysta." John obscured his flush with a sip from his pint.

"My father travelled around the satellite states a lot. The closer you were to the West, the easier it was to get hold of the music, the stories, the... hope."

"West isn't exactly a bastion of hope itself, mate."

"Da," Nik conceded, "but to a young man full of energy and dreams, the West was like a fairytale in comparison to the Soviet Union, a world so grey that Alexander Grin had to make up a whole new one, without even Russian names, to conceive of happiness and love that was not doomed to tragedy in the end."

John hummed and Nik let the comfortable silence settle as he mulled over Nik's words. A gentle hand found his on the table, battle roughened fingers impossibly tender as they stroked across the back and into his palm. "You're happy here, right?" John asked as they watched a bee hover over a cluster of wild flowers.

"Da, captain," Nik said softly. "I expected a Tolstoy ending, but... this, this is a Grin."

John smiled, his eyes crinkling, his whiskers twitching around his mouth in that mischievous way that Nik adored, and he lifted Nik's knuckles to his lips. Nik 's heart swelled in his chest and he fought the urge to scoop his love from the chair and carry him inside to show him just how happy he was. John rubbed his cheek against Nik's fingers after the kiss, blue eyes lidded, like a large cat scenting his territory, before returning their clasped hands to the table.

Later, when the night was cooler and John had finished his beer, Nik would guide him to their bed and they would make love. Nik would kiss and taste the summer heat on his skin and listen to his voice crack around his name, entreaties sweeter than the words of Tsvetaeva. But, for now, Nik was content to bask in the gentle quiet of their own happy ending.

[theoceansluvr]

Percy Jackson x Molly Gunn!Reader

warnings; none ! author's notes; as previously stated, i have yet to watch uptown girls. however, she seemed really fun to pair with percy sooo :3

oh how could he NOT love you !?!?

sure, your a wee bit clumsy and scatterbrained, but you have, quite literally, the biggest heart imaginable !

the first thing he noticed about you was undeniably your fashion sense.. i mean, not many people are walking around camp half-blood in an overly colorful overall dress and cowboy boots.

no one except you of course, which was what drew him into so much

so, once he started to get to know you, he realized that most of your clothes were from your mother who had passed

which probably broke his heart more than anything because he didn't know how to comfort you since he really couldn't imagine not having his mom, but he did his best :3

speaking of her, she LOVESSSS you like LOVES.

that woman treats you like she birthed you herself, to the point most conversations between sally and percy when yer gone are like

"is your ---- coming over ?" "how has ---- been ? i don't see them enough" "would ---- like some cookies ?"

yeah, she adores you.

anywho, thrift shopping dates out of whim because neither of you have good self control. you pick out the good stuff and percy picks.. anything that looks slightly interesting to him !

oh ! and picnics in central park ! or the strawberry fields ! or literally any other place in the sun-

has to help you at least 9 times a week keep up with chores and just overall responsibilities-

like he totally has a chore chat + fun lil stickers dedicated strictly to you and whatever you have to do

but ! you both have insanely quick thinking, so it kinda makes up for it

i fear you gift him random trinkets (oh how i love trinket coded readers...) for fun ! like he has a stained glass fish lamp because of you and he loves it more than almost anything

dare i say that your imagination is probably the thing keeping him going the most ?

like, hearing you talk about all the things you want to do once you leave camp gets him through all of the dumb quests and school assignments more than any other motivations

IM FINALLY DONE WITH SLACKING OFF ON REQS !!!!!!!!!! a bit.. BUT ! i can finally write stuff specifically for me and my like.. 3 mutuals who know my current hyperfixations :3 YIPPEEEE

[typicalopposite]

sunday sentences... a lot of 'em

i have been tagged in many things by many people... I just have not been writing much. Until... well this

while the majority of the fandom is clowning about Buck and Tommy getting back together... I'm out here clowning about not starting a new wip before I finish another one... another MPREG wip at that!

I got a whole chapter for y'all! <3

Chapter One

He is up before the sun… like always. 

LA is still dark out at 4 AM, no matter which side of daylight savings it is– it’s as quiet and as calm as the ever busy city will possibly get. Tommy chose this as his starting time many years ago for that very reason, and it has never changed. He slips on a pair of running shoes and a thin windbreaker that he’ll probably end up tying around his waist at some point, and heads out the door. 

The air nips at the top part of his face, his grown out stubble guarding his cheeks and chin… He needs to shave today, so he decides to cut a mile from his run to account for the extra time needed and turns a few streets sooner than his typical route. This way takes him by Mrs. Hardett’s house– he wonders if she’s even still alive, he can’t remember the last time he took this way. She would surely be asleep so he has no way to know, however he does see her old station wagon parked in the driveway and the freshly bloomed Buckwheat bush he helped her plant a couple years back, as he passes…

Buckwheat makes him think of Evan– well, everything makes Tommy think of him... but that is a given– the rest of his run back to his house.  

He is still lost in the thought as he decides on a simple breakfast; nothing too fancy, because it’s just him… A bagel with some smoked salmon cream cheese and a bottle of water is what he grabs as he passes through the kitchen, heading to his room. It makes him think of a meme in a group of them that Evan sent him about a person not wanting to find other fish… because they want the emotionally insecure salmon… or something like that.

Was that supposed to mean something?  He’s sure Evan would have said so if it did…

He plugs his phone in and flops onto the bed, unlocking the screen and is instantly met with last night's text thread… between none other than him and Evan. Tommy sighs, reading over the last message— sleep tight! don’t let the bedbugs bite!

He’s like a giant child… Tommy kind of— no… he completely loves it. Isn’t that just… great. 

He doesn’t know how long he just lies there staring at the message before he takes note that he has another unread message. It’s from Ravi; it’s a link. He follows it to a YouTube channel Ravi told him about a few days prior, when they met for lunch. The topic had started veering into Evan territory and Tommy was on the cusp of shutting down, packing it up, and bolting. Ravi, bless him… must have picked up on the mood shift, because suddenly he is talking about listening to these strange, dark, and mysterious stories on his drives to and from the station. 

“I’ll send you the guys channel,” Ravi had offered when Tommy seemed interested. Tommy pulls up the latest video, and pauses it to watch on his ridiculously long drive— 

“Shit,” he hisses out loud realizing he has blown right through his allotted extra time; he still has to get ready! The last bite of the bagel he saves for Soot— an old stray cat that took up with him many years ago. Back when he was still with Abby; she never cared much for cats, so Soot came with him in the break up. It was the only time he left a relationship with anything besides a broken heart… He’s been his little crotchety rock through all of the ones he’s left with that followed. 

A quick shower, a much needed shave, and the smell of salmon scrubbed from his tongue— the man looking back at him as he checks his teeth in the mirror is, in theory, ready to face whatever today brings… 

Damn… looks can be so deceiving, can’t they? 

He grabs his phone, and the last bite of bagel, as he heads out of the room. Soot is sunbathing in the reading chair— more like his sleeping chair, really— flipped over on his back like a dog… Tommy’s surprised his tongue isn't hanging out. He perks up the moment Tommy drops the food into his living room bowl. (“Living room bowl?” Evan had teased Tommy. “Sounds like an excuse to spoil him…” he’d concluded, after Tommy argued that Soot is old, and the kitchen is far from his chair… Evan had rolled his eyes, but the next visit forward he began to leave a little treat in both bowls before he’d leave… Soot seems to miss him, too…)

“I’ll be back later,” Tommy says, scratching behind Soot’s scarred left ear and rubbing down his back. “No parties while I’m gone.” He laughs when the old cat stops eating and gives him an incredulous look like he understood the request. 

Tommy locks the door, walks to his car, and just as he’s about to climb inside his phone dings. A text from Evan. Shift starts soon… but I just wanted to say I’m actually super stoked for Thursday. :)

He pulls the text thread down, going back just a few messages to where Evan asked if he was planning to play basketball Thursday… and that if he wasn’t, would he be open to going biking with him. As if Tommy could tell him no— it was maybe even the fastest of course Evan has gotten out of him to date. Me too ;) he sends back, and unfortunately doesn’t catch his error until he checks the thread again after he arrives at his destination. He sent a wink?!

The message has been read; it has not been responded to. 

Fucking great! 

Tommy sighs, turns his car off, and gets out.  

~~~

Logically Tommy knew there would be a lot of paperwork. He did not, however, expect to have an entire novel worth of forms he would have to fill out. There are so many personal questions he’s not entirely comfortable answering and some he doesn’t really have answers for— any family medical history is as unknown to him as it is to the doctor. He is vague with a lot of it… just says he’s a first responder, not what branch. He gives his PO box, not his physical address. He uses a What’s App number instead of his actual one.   

It’s not like they can really complain about him not being entirely truthful… or entirely trusting of them… the whole thing is very sketchy, and he is sure they know that. Still, he signs off on the bottom of another page and flips it over. Blood type? He thinks he’s B Positive– which is hilariously ironic, because when has he ever been– so he puts B Positive. Has he ever taken drugs? Hah! Wouldn’t they like to know. He puts no… it was a lifetime ago anyway. Are you sexually active? Does a hand and or a dildo count? He unlocks his phone, sees the still unanswered text and begrudgingly puts no– want’s to dramatically add and never will be again, but he doesn’t.

Page by page he answers the questions: his allergies (dust, roses– which was a hilarious and unfortunate discovery the first time Evan ever bought him flowers– and some types of pollen), any medications he’s taking (he’s not… he probably should be), and any serious illnesses he has. 

Well that’s the whole reason he’s here… isn’t it? 

Life has the ability to drive even the strongest most level headed people into the ground, and Tommy has never been  anywhere near a strong, level headed person— regardless of what anyone might think. He had never wanted to follow in his dads footsteps; drinking was never something he enjoyed… The military is a brutal hell hole, however, and he needed something to dull everything going on around him. 

He stopped when he got out… and then he joined the fire academy. He was drinking again a few weeks into life under Gerard. Again just after Abby… again just before coming out. He can’t even remember exactly when he started getting sick… he only remembers the doctor's words. If you don’t stop… you’ll be dead in a year. So he stopped. He got better… A few casual drinks now and then but he was not willing to lose flying– lose helping people– his only escape from life. Then he broke up with Evan… Then he hooked up with Evan… Then he made he idiotic self-punishing decision to just be friends with Evan after everything with the outbreak and the dramatically terrifying Bobby scare… Somehow just being friends has been exponentially worse than being nothing to him…

He was quickly slipping back into a very dark place, and he couldn’t afford to start craving the mental release of a bottle. He also couldn’t afford to run into Bobby at another AA meeting– he had years ago… Bobby is the only other person who knows about his alcohol problems… and his liver– so he went outside of LA… he went quite a ways outside of LA actually; a couple of hours away, close to where Sal had moved to. The meetings were standard, just something to get the weight of it all off his chest… “I’m worried about needing the escape,” he said at one. “Sometimes I just need to forget the hell I’m stuck in– that I keep putting myself in– but I know my body can’t handle it.”

When the woman in the business suit— three inch heels and thin frameless glasses— sat down beside him, at first Tommy thought she was a therapist… ready to offer her support for the sad sack of a man who just poured his heart out about his health fears to a room of strangers. Instead she leaned in and began to whisper to him. They were in the back and the room was clearing out and yet she kept her voice so low Tommy could barely hear her even right by his ear. 

An experimental drug. 

Hope for a clinical trial one day.

The possibility to reverse illness and disease no matter how severe— to keep you from losing quality of life for fear of causing harm to your body.

Groundbreaking.

Life altering… Changing… Saving!

Tommy teasingly asked if she worked for some alcohol company… that she seemed to be trying to bribe him with the opportunity to freely drink again with no health risk. She only laughed and patted his knee, stating she was only using that as a topic point… she would never encourage anyone to do something inherently bad… but the risk of illness shouldn’t be the reason people don’t do things in life. 

“You said you help people, in your line of work…” she continued, cocking a brow and giving a slight smirk. “So do I. This drug will help society… It can save society.” 

He was left a card with a number, a request to seriously consider it, and a hinted offer of it being worth his time— mostly he was left torn. 

Torn much like what he did to the little card once he got home and fished it out of his pocket, tossing the pieces into the trash can. Which is where it stayed for a few days and almost got thrown out forever had it not been for the call from his landlord— he had decided to sell the house. Tommy had to move or buy. He had been begging his landlord to let him rent-to-own the house for years… Now if he wanted it, he had to buy it in full… or pack up and start over somewhere new? Maybe it had been the universe's slap in the face to him turning down Evans offer, he thought bitterly. 

He complained to the void… and to Soot, who seemed very unconcerned. He contemplated for a few more days… Then he fished the card out… and called the number. “Just how worth my time are we talking,” he asked, trying to ignore how he could hear the candy apple red lipped smile as she asked what changed his mind, how he could hear it stretch wider when he admitted he was curious about the compensation. She assured him it would be very generous– half up front half when he returned after the six week expectane trial window. 

He thinks must be crazy to be doing this, and yet here he is… signing the last of the papers and returning them to the desk. A nurse calls him back, she takes a urine sample, a blood sample, checks his vitals and sends him to a room to wait for the doctor– Diana Reddin, she had informed him on the phone. The woman walks in, now donning a white lab coat over a nearly identical pants suit (save for the color) from the day he met her, and a very pleased smile. She shakes his hand and leans back against the counter looking over his paperwork. She questions his blank family medical history and he explains he hasn’t spoken to his family in quite a while… She doesn’t press. 

She asks how he is with needles and he tells her not too bad… “Good,” she laughs. “‘Cause this one is a bit of a doozy…” She closes his chart and smiles. “I’m sure you did your research on the company–�� which he had… call him old fashioned but he’d be damned if he was going to blindly trust a lady in a pants suit just because she gave him a heartfelt speech and a fancy business card. They were well known scientists– trained in modern medicine, researching ways to assist with a multitude of diseases; Dr. Reddin was even featured many times on the site. If it wasn’t legit, they had gone beyond all out to make it appear as if it was. 

“I can’t express enough, on behalf of our entire team, how appreciative we are for you, Mr Kinard,” she said. “You’re going to help us make history. We are going to change the world.” 

Tommy hums– it sounds very noble, very intense… when put like that. Maybe he should have considered this more… The room has gone silent and he’s aware it’s apparently his turn to speak, Dr. Reddin’s brows lifted as if waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t even hear her ask. “Uh… Sorry… what?”

“Would you like to get started today?” Dr. Reddin asks, and damn they are wasting no time it seems. “We can get the ball rolling, if you’d like. We will get the big scary injection for the drugs stimulant out of the way, get you set up with the six week supply of the expectane, and I will have the first part of our agreed upon payment waiting with Louise up front.” Five thousand dollars– ten in total– it is all he needs for a downpayment on the house.

Tommy swallows, feeling like there is a fist in his throat making it extremely difficult. He pulls out his phone, unlocks the screen and checks the message. Still nothing… and so he slides the phone back into his pocket, and says he will start the trial. 

<3<3<3<3<3

gonna be a different kind of mpreg this time! if you have seen the movie Junior you'll get it, and hopefully get all the references too!

a few tags: @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@loversinmalta @somethingaboutfirefly @dum-amo-vivo9 @lovetommyactually @quintessenceofdust88 @rosyhoneydew

@ladyeyrewrites @cafe-con-letty @beanarie @unhingedangstaddict @leashybebes and anyone else who wants to join in!<3

[haoboutyou]

foolish one (stop checking your mailbox) | joshua hong

fluff, slightly suggestive | 1154 words | some cursing

a/n: wifey @bluehoodiewoozi: "if you write me an encouraging boyfriend shua x burnt out uni student y/n fic, i'll be the happiest woman on earth" except I wrote none of that :D

The university has dedicated study rooms all around campus, providing a conducive space for students to catch up on their coursework, computer work, or reading. It’s a great place to comfortably work on thesis papers without the stuffy silence of the library, or the rowdiness of the campus courtyard. It is not, unfortunately, a good place to audibly express disappointment every 10 minutes.

Joshua can’t take it anymore. How many times does he have to watch you check your phone whenever a notification pops up, how many times does that hopeful look on your face morph into disappointment when it was just another push-ad from a shopping app? 

He’s just about had it when you let out an audible sigh for the nth time, once again disrupting your supposedly productive study session. And so he bites the bullet, hoping that whatever it is that is distracting you from completing that dreaded thesis is worth all the sighing for.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Huh?” You look up from the laptop, annoyed that he distracted you just as you were about to concentrate.

Right on cue your phone lights up. He snatches the phone faster than you could reach for– it prompts a disgruntled “Shua no!” out of you. Joshua gives the notification a once over before he places the phone screen-up, crossing his arms. 

“You can’t possibly be waiting for–” He squints at the screen, reading out the pop-up banner. “ ‘60% off your next coffee’– Oh… That’s a really good deal.” He looks back up at you, watching as you sink back into your seat at the announcement. “Anyways, you’re clearly not waiting for the coffee. Spill.”

A minute of silence passes as Joshua watches you gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing but unable to find the right words to convey your current dilemma.

“...It’s Lucas–�� 

“You’re still talking to him?!” His disrupted yell earns him multiple death stares from others in the study room. 

You wince at his outburst, but you know it comes from a good place. Lucas, despite being known as the worst frat boy to come out of this university, is also the smoothest talker; somehow, he manages to get every girl on campus swooning at his feet. Joshua personally thinks he’s just a load of bullshit, that you could do better than that walking STD stick. Still,  he sighs when he sees your downcast look, staring blankly ahead at your dimmed laptop screen. 

“Y/n, he’s a player. You got a taste of his dick once and it was good, sure, but you didn’t mean anything to him. I’m serious!”

You hate the connotation that came with his words– it felt like he was calling you a whore. Your brows furrow deeper. You know he didn’t mean to, but it still sounds like that, and it still hurts. 

He realises his mistake almost immediately because as soon as those words come out, he backpedals on them so fast.

“No wait, I– I didn’t mean–” He’s instantly shut down by you, cutting through him like a knife.

You avoid looking straight into Joshua’s eyes, fighting the magnetic pull towards his chocolate eyes. Your next words are soft enough that he has to strain his ears to pick them up. “He isn’t like that though. He said what we had was different! He said I was special, that–“

“That no other girl could compare to you? Y/n, he says that to everyone!” Joshua’s exasperated. His heart breaks a little when he spots how glassy your eyes have become, but he presses on, wanting to tell you the hard truth. “Do you know what he does back at the frat house? He marches around, boasting about how many he’s slept with and what they’re like in bed. He shares those stories like some kind of sick trophy. He’s a disgusting, sorry excuse of a man!” 

Joshua leans forward across the table, engulfing your small hands with his. He rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs, trying to comfort you when notices silent tears running down your face.

“No…” You hiccup, trying to get your words across your sniffles. “I swear, I can change him!” Even you know how ridiculous you sound; there's no changing a fratboy so set in his ways like Lucas. You slump over your laptop, begrudgingly wallowing over your words. You sigh. It’s impossible. You’re just a hopeless romantic chasing after the affections of a man who gave you an ounce of attention.

“I really thought he was gonna be the one, Shua.”

 “There, there. You could do so much better and you know it. Don’t be so foolish!”

“Like who?!” You can’t help but snap at him. You’re desperate, of course; trying to shield your already humiliated and broken heart from his harsh (albeit truthful) words.

His voice drops to a whisper. 

“Like me?”

His grip on you hardens. There’s determination and endearment directed straight at you, that you’ve never noticed before, pouring through his eyes. He gulps; his biggest secret is out. The long-time crush he’s been harbouring on you is now public– to you, at least.

“I can treat you better.” He reaches out to wipe a tear from your cheek, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You sigh. You’re doing a lot of that today; it's becoming a bit pathetic. “Shua, I'm not in the mood for you joking–”

“I’m not! Hell, I’m already letting you wear my jacket!” He tries to be serious, gesturing to the oversized jacket he lent you earlier, that envelops you around your shoulders. 

He heaves a sigh of relief when you let out a chuckle. His large hands find yours again. You feel yourself calming down, but your cheeks still heat up from his sudden proximity. 

You cock your head to the side. “Why didn’t you say anything before? I mean–” You gesture to the space between you. “Before all this?”

“Because you looked so happy, and I was afraid of ruining it all.” A shy smile graces his face. “Let me make up for it, please?”

You hold your stare, making him wait in anticipation. Finally, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you reply. 

“Buy me lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

“Lunch? Yeah, I can do that.” He can’t help but full-on grin at you. Standing up to gather his things, he extends a hand to pull you up. Ever the gentleman, you think. 

“Lucas was pretty good in bed though. Think you can one-up that?” You joke.

Joshua pulls you into his chest, one arm wrapping around you while the other picks up your bag. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you an even better time later.” 

“Later…?” Your voice trails as you let him whisk you away for lunch. He wiggles his brows at you, mischievous demeanour unveiling. 

And so, your thesis remains incomplete yet another day.

[nhl-stories]

Indoor Cat– Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy is excited to show his girlfriend Alaska, but she's not exactly an outdoor person

Author’s Note: Had so much fun writing this for @bqstqnbruin for @wyattjohnston's 2k24 summer fic exchange! Definitely made me want to write more Sway in the future

Word Count: 2.2k

“Sorry I was too lazy to fish my keys out of my backpack,” Catherine apologizes when Jeremy opens the door to his apartment.

“I wasn’t expecting you, so this is a nice surprise.”

She rolls her bike in and leans it up against the wall. Rubbing her hands across her face.

“I meant to text but I have a million exams to grade and my roommate was being a bitch and our air conditioning broke and I just had to leave.”

When she moves her hands away, Jeremy is standing in front of her with a sympathetic smile. He pulls her into a tight hug that makes her tension dissolve.

“You’re sweaty babe.”

Catherine gives him a shove, “Of course I am! No AC at the apartment and then I biked here in a million-degree weather with a 50-pound backpack. I’m MELTING.”

“Sorry, my little ice queen can’t handle the heat.”

She levels a look at him that screams she’s not in the mindset for his little jokes and he bites his lips to hold back his smile.

After she takes a cold shower, she feels more like a real person. She throws on an oversized Maine t-shirt and makes her way to Jeremy’s dining table with a stack of papers.

Once she has a fresh red pen and her answer key, she gets into a sort of trance while grading. She doesn’t quite notice how far the sun has sunk when Jeremy comes behind her and wraps his arms around her kissing her right under her ear.

“Want me to order dinner?”

Catherine leans back into his touch, “Can we get Thai food?”

“Green curry and Pad Kee Mao?”

“Yes, please,” she kisses his cheek then goes back to focusing on tests.

When the food arrives, Jeremy moves her papers despite her protests.

“Stop, I have like so many tests to grade and only like two days to finish them and then enter the grades online.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take a break.” He moves the tests to the coffee table so they’re out of reach.

This is the price she has to pay if she works at Jeremy’s, which is a pretty nice trade off even if she fights it. Every. Single. Time.

“So, school’s out in a week… any big plans,” he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Jeremy is clearly hinting at their upcoming trip to Alaska, which Catherine has been actively avoiding planning specifics. She’s not exactly against seeing where he grew up and his parents, it’s the rest of the Alaska Experience™ that’s making her apprehensive.

She tries to be casual about what she says next.

“I’m moving in August.”

Jeremy stops with a forkful of noodles halfway up to his mouth, “Um- what?”

“Yeah, I mean I don’t get along with my roommate and our lease will be up then,” she takes a drink to stop herself from grinning, “And my boyfriend asked me to move in, so I thought I’d finally take him up on the offer.”

It’s a tactical distraction from Alaska, but also an announcement she’s excited to finally share, now that she’s informed her soon-to-be ex-roommate.

Jeremy is around the table and practically straddles her to wrap her in his arms.

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t wait for the answer before kissing her.

Then he’s pulling back again, “Seriously?”

He goes back in for another kiss, it’s not very good. They’re both smiling too much for their lips to really meet, but soon they get in a rhythm.

 Then Jeremy starts to trail kisses down her jaw and neck. Catherine indulges him for a bit before gripping his hair to pull him back.

“I love the excitement, and I’m excited to move in too, but none of this tonight,” she kisses the tip of his nose, “I still have to be a responsible teacher.

He buries his face in her neck and mumbles, “No you don’t, just quit your job.”

“You say that now while you’re not working, but come fall when you’re back to work and I have nothing to do, you’ll be evicting me,” she rakes her nails through his hair.

“Is that why Taylor is being a bitch?” He says once he comes up for air.

“I mean, it’s not helping, but it’s also just her natural state as a roommate,” she gives Jeremy a gentle push, “Now let me eat my dinner so I can finish my work.”

“Then we can finish this later?” A quick, but filthy kiss follows.

“Maybe, no promises,” Catherine gives him her best stern teacher face, so he knows she means business.

She doesn’t finish all of her tests, mostly because Jeremy is determined to be touching her at all times. So, to keep him from moving around, Catherine holds him in place; leaning back on his chest on the sectional. His hands have free reign and she’s within kissing range. It appeases Jeremy, but greatly slows her grading speed.

Eventually, she just gives up and lets Jeremy rush her to the bedroom. Claiming they need to ‘christen their bedroom’ as if Catherine hasn’t already christened it every which way.

And it’s enjoyable and wonderful until her alarm goes off extra early to make up for the work she didn’t finish. Normally, she’s actually a morning person, but at the end of the school year, her body and mind are ready to call it quits.

Jeremy calls it teacher playoffs. A stupid joke that never fails to make her laugh. She’s soft for his goofy side, even when it’s telling the dumbest jokes.

“Need any help before school?” Jeremy comes up behind her in the shower, wrapping his arms around her waist, hands dipping dangerously low.

“Not that kind of help, that’s for sure,” Catherine giggles while she turns around then moves his hands back to his side.

“You’ve already done enough with this,” she points to a mark where her collarbone meets her shoulder, “this is almost ‘have an awkward conversation with my students’ visible.”

“Consider it payback for you putting off the Alaska talk again.”

Catherine clenches her jaw.

“You thought I haven’t noticed, but the trip is in 10 days and you keep ignoring me every time I bring it up.”

“Yeah, cause you’re gonna talk me into exploring the Alaskan bush or something crazy, when I can explore an Alaskan bush any time I want,” she playfully gropes Jeremy.

He lets out an involuntary groan, before backing away, “See! You’re doing it again! Although great joke, babe.”

Catherine steps back into the spray, rinsing out her conditioner, “Fine. I’ll stay late to finish all my grading and stuff and then we can talk after.”

“Thank you,” he gives Catherine a peck, “And afterwards feel free to explore the bush if you want.”

Catherine rolls her eyes and gets out of the shower.

She gets dressed, thankfully the outfit she packed covers the hickey even with her hair up.

Jeremy is waiting for her with a towel around his waist, a bowl of yogurt and fruit waiting for her and a to-go thermos of coffee.

“Want me to drive you in? So, you don’t have to bike there and back.”

“Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off a few blocks away. Cause if my students see me with you, I’ll never get them to focus, and they’re squirrely enough this time of year.”

◊◊◊

Catherine finishes her grading sooner than she thinks, even enters all the grades online. Now there’s two things to not look forward to; planning with Jeremy and annoying emails from parents about final grades.

She checks the weather on her phone, the heat doesn’t seem to be breaking and won’t until the sun sets a couple hours from now.

She debates her options for a few minutes before deciding to ask Jeremy for a ride home. The deciding factor being she’d rather have an uncomfortable talk without having just finished a sweaty bike ride. The less time out of the comfort of AC, the better.

“And this isn’t embarrassing for me to pick you up out front?” Jeremy snarks when he pulls up to the curb.

Catherine rolls her eyes and starts to load the bike in the back, “I should have just dealt with the heat.”

When she slides into the passenger seat, Jeremy grabs her hand intertwining their fingers and giving it a squeeze.

“I’m just buttering you up before I tell you about all the Alaskan adventures I have planned for us.”

“I’m already exhausted.”

Jeremy squeezes her hand again, then points an air vent more towards Catherine.

When they get back to the apartment Catherine flops onto the couch, “Okay lay it on me.”

Of course, Jeremy takes that as an invitation to drop right on top of her, barely catching himself before his whole weight lands on her.

He leans in to kiss her. Once, twice… he pauses like he’s trying to figure out if he can get away with more. Instead, he decides to sit up and pull Catherine up with him.  

“Why are you so anxious about this trip? You’ve met most of my family and friends, and you’ve agreed to move in with me so I don’t think this is a commitment thing…”

She throws back her head and takes in a deep breath, “No, but it’s gonna sound stupid and miniscule in comparison.”

“But I like the sound of small rather than something more fundamental to our relationship.”

Catherine takes a moment, trying put the words the right way in her head.

“I’m worried that you have not spent a lot of summer time with me so you have not seen how much I wilt in the sun and heat and generally want to die. It’s a very ugly side of me, both because of my sweat and my attitude and I spend a lot of energy trying to avoid it.”

Catherine feels like she has to avoid eye contact while she gets this off her chest. Mostly because she can feel herself flush with embarrassment about her confession.

“And then you’ll want to climb a mountain or something and you’ll see that we are not on the same outdoorsy level and realize we just aren’t compatible,” she looks down at her lap in shame.

“Oh sweetheart,” Jeremy cups her face, “that is stupid. Alaska rarely gets over 70 degrees.”

Catherine lets out a surprised laugh.

“I already know you’re a bit of an indoor cat,” he smirks at the play on her name.

“I’m being vulnerable here and you’re making fun of me!” She doesn’t mean for it to come out so whiny.

“And if you had talked to me before this, you would know I’ve already thought about all these things.”

She cocks her head in response.

 “I would never make you face your least favorite thing, temperatures over 80 degrees, if there was something I could do to stop that.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“And that’s just the start,” Jeremy can’t help but grin.

“I’d love to show you the top of a mountain but everything there is so beautiful we don’t need to climb thousands of feet of elevation to see something great. I have so many options you can choose from, I made you a spreadsheet.”

“This is might sound sarcastic, but that weirdly turns me on.”

Jeremy pulls her into his chest, “If I really needed to do some crazy, difficult hike, I know people who like that. I’m going on this trip to spend time with you and if that means a flat, short hike, I’m going to love it.”

“Most importantly,” Jeremey untangles himself and leaves the room.

He comes back with a suitcase, “I bought you a suitcase just for books you want to bring. So, when we go out on the boat you can just read and look pretty if you don’t want to fish.”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

She gets up and jumps into his arm.

“So, you’re excited for our trip now?”

Catherine smiles and decides to show him with actions rather than words.

◊◊◊

Catherine has never been happier to be proven wrong, Alaska is honestly her ideal summer vacation. Not too hot, too gorgeous to describe with words, and the almost never-ending daylight makes it seem like some kind of dreamland.

The view right now is proof.

Book in her lap, Jeremy looking hot driving the boat in the foreground, and a glacier in the background.

The boat slowly comes to a stop.

“See something you like?” Jeremy smirks from the captain’s seat.

She shrugs, “this book is kind of dragging and I was thinking, you know I’ve never had sex on a boat?”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows.

“And we happen to be on a boat… in this very scenic… fairly romantic location,” she tries to use her best innocent, doe eyes.

In a flash, her book is on the ground and Jeremy is on top of her.

It’s something Catherine can see becoming a summer tradition.

[mah-t-wordblog]

can you make a modern au fic lee muichrio ler gyokko???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? thanks

Hehe there it is!!!! 💛💛 hope u like

The Oni of the Vase

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Gyokko

(Kimetsu academy universe)

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Muichiro was walking normally through the halls of Kimetsu academy, he was heading towards the cafeteria to find Yuichiro

As he passed by the laboratory, he heard something approaching from behind, as his instincts are very fast and sharp, he soon turned to see what it was

But he saw nothing, just a vase of plant

He thought it was normal and kept walking, until he heard the same noise, when he turned around, he was sure that the pot had moved

Muichiro sighed

"Let's go, you must be one of those demons that the school talks so much about, huh? You can show up, I'm not afraid of you”

The vase moved again

“Let's go, I already kicked the other one” Muichiro had already met another demon at school, and kicked it so hard that he made a giant lump on the creature's head

The vase moved, but this time something unexpected happened, a very ugly creature came out of it

It had eyes instead of mouths and mouths instead of eyes, it looked like a snake mixed with a fish, full of scales and it smelled like fish

“Hyu! Hyu! Hello, young man! I see you were looking at my art” the creature said

“No, I was n-“

“My name is Gyokko” the oni interrupted him “and I make these wonderful, incredible and beautiful vases, what do you think?”

Muichiro looked at the ceramic piece and shrugged “cool”

He prepared to continue on his way, but Gyokko teleported close to him and held him

“Look closely! You didn't even look!”

Muichiro looked at the vase again “it’s a little crooked”

Gyokko gasped “WHAT?”

“Here” Muichiro pointed to one side of the vase “it’s crooked. I didn’t like it”

“Argh! You idiot! I’m going to- I” Gyokko growled

“What are you going to do, ugly demon?” The boy faced him

“Do what I do to those who ignore or speak ill of my art, hyu! Hyu!”

Gyokko quickly grabbed both of Muichiro’s arms, the boy got scared and started to struggle

“Let go of me you piece of shit!” The boy cursed

“Ah! What a dirty mouth, hyu! Hyu! You won’t curse me anymore when I do this”

About ten more hands appeared from the creature’s body, which stretched out and began to squeeze Muichiro’s body

The boy started to laugh, he couldn’t hold back, there were hands on his sides, ribs, armpits, everywhere, under and over his clothes

“Never ignore me again! Never! You will suffer my horrible tickle torture forever! Hyu! Hyu!”

“NOHOHOHOHO” Muichiro tried to kick him, but his elastic body dodged him “HEHEHEHEHELP HEHEHEHEHEHELP”

The boy was almost crying and couldn’t take it anymore, this was too much for him

“Nobody is going to help-”

“Hey, you stinker!”

Gyokko felt a rock or something hard hit his head

“Ouch!”

“Let go of my brother!” Yuuichiro jumped close to the two and kicked the creature, which made him let go of Muichiro and complain in pain

“Come back here you pests!”

Yuichiro ran with Muichiro until they lost the oni

“Ah, what was that, Muichiro?”

“I don’t know! He was so ugly”

The two looked at each other and started laughing

“Let’s tell the principal about this” Muichiro said, as the two started walking again

“Yeah, before any more students die from so many tickles, if I hadn’t arrived you would be dead”

The older one nudged his brother

“Hey stop!” Muichiro laughed

Gyokko hid in his vase again, waiting for someone to pass by

And if his next victim didn’t pay attention to his art, poor guy, he had no idea what was coming

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Hehe I liked writing that one 💛💛

[xenith-eats-stars]

Nightcrawler Aquarium Fic bc im insane

warnings: none i think, he just goes to the aquarium by himself. 1st Person from his POV

notes: first fic waooowww!!! too scared to write any ship stuff 😭 very self-indulgent, he deserves to be happy

I’m back here again. It must be the 5th time this month! I come whenever life gets too stressful. When you’re inside, nobody notices blue fur, not when everything is dark, and the only light comes from the blue fluorescents inside the tanks. Blue. A beautiful color, really, but also the source of so much… annoyance. Gott, Kurt. You’re rambling again. Go inside.

A quick glance around, and the coast - heh, coast. ocean pun - is clear. 

BAMF!

Ach, that echoed quite a bit… nobody noticed, I hope. Aquariums are rather quiet, save for the occasional noisy chatter of children. Children whom, while small and cute, tend to scream at the sight of me, so I’d rather avoid them, at least for today. If there are any here, that is. It’s a rather slow day, which is why it’s a perfect day to go! Nobody to gawk at me, just me and the fish. Or is it the fish and I? No matter.

Another great thing about teleporting is that I don’t have to pay to get in. I always feel a little guilty about it, which I suppose is a good thing. But this place always ends up getting at least a little money out of me. It’s not my fault they sell such cute things at the gift shop! Getting to take a little souvenir home is half the fun of coming here, if you ask me.

“I think I’ll see the sharks first this time…” I mutter to myself, slinking off towards the entrance to the ocean exhibit. Sharks are like me, I think. They’re given a reputation for being dangerous, but once you’re around them enough, they’re friendly. The sharks here don’t do much, just swim back and forth. But they seem content. Just looking at them, watching how gracefully their bodies cut through the water, it makes me happy. I’ll move on for now. Tschüss, sharks!

Oh, touch pools. The poor fish in here must never get a break, what with everyone trying to touch and grab them. Maybe they’ve gotten used to it? I doubt it. I’ll leave them alone, give them some peace and quiet. I don’t feel like getting my hands wet, anyways. 

I dive into the shadows as a father and his daughter walk through the entrance into the touch pool room. They don’t notice me, thank Gott. But how sweet, a daddy-daughter day at the aquarium! It must be fun getting to not only enjoy the fish, but also watch as your child enjoys them too. It’s a good bonding experience. I’ll go the way they came in, give them some space to enjoy themselves.

A floor-to-ceiling tank, taking up an entire wall of the room. Inside it, hundreds of jellyfish. They pulsate and wobble, aimlessly floating, all of them in their own little worlds. I wonder what they think about. Do they think? Or do they just let life take them wherever? Should I be more like the jellyfish? Or should I move on and stop being so existential? I choose the latter. These are creatures that eat and defecate from the same opening, after all. Yuck. Goodbye, and good riddance.

“Aah!” I yelp, suddenly being blasted by a flurry of bright color. I slowly open my eyes, and am greeted by the sight of the coral reef tank. “Oh, Scheiße… rather bright bunch, you all are!” I joke, the fish not responding, because why would they? All they’re occupied with is looking colorful and darting around the various corals. How many kinds of corals are there, even? An information screen catches my eye. “6,000 known species?!” I mutter in disbelief, “Was in aller Welt?!” I look over it again, and sure enough, the number is correct. I shake my head, chuckling to myself. A flash of orange, just in my peripheral. 

A clownfish, barely the size of my hand, darting around. He’s a nervous little guy, I assume. A shame, really. He’s a beautiful orange color, with white stripes on his tiny fish body. I wiggle my finger near the glass, and he swims to it, investigating this strange, blue intruder. The clownfish circles around my finger, examining it from every possible angle. I move it up, and he follows it. Back down, he still follows, his little fins flapping eagerly. I smile in spite of myself, my tail swishing back and forth. We’re like kindred spirits, the clownfish and I. I’m just as curious about him as he is about me. Eventually, he bores of our little game of chase, and swims off to rest in an anemone. How cute, it’s a like little house! Just for him! I wonder if he’s renting. His landlord must be one of the sharks. I wave goodbye to my scaly little acquaintance.

A few quick stops by the freshwater tanks, and I feel serene enough to return home. On my way out, I stop by the gift shop, because why would I not? Odd, there’s nobody at the counter. I suppose I’ll just leave the cash for my purchase. Perusing the selection of soft plush toys, I see a stuffed clownfish. I pick it up, feeling the soft fabric of its body. I give an experimental squeeze. Soft. The tag proudly announces that 50% of profit from purchase goes to conservation efforts for wild fish. The toy’s button eyes stare blankly into my yellow ones. Oh, Warum nicht? I pay for the stuffed toy - $19.99, rather expensive! He’s worth every penny - and BAMF! away.

I arrive in my room, and I set my new plush friend on my bed, right next to my other aquarium souvenirs; a stuffed octopus, whale shark, and seahorse. I give each of them a pat on their soft heads. They look like they would make for a great band. I chuckle at the prospect. The octopus would play the drums, no doubt. The whale shark, the guitar. The seahorse would play the saxophone, and the clownfish would sing. That would be fun. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Kurt.” I reprimand myself, “Sea creatures can’t play instruments. Much less stuffed toy versions of them.”

Ah well. No matter. It’s good to let your imagination wander, methinks.

Thanks for Reading!! :3

[cooliofango]

Sugar

Pairing: Nikolai x F!Reader

Word Count: 746

Synopsis: Lingering gazes and teasing kisses lead to a very happy Nik 🫶

A/N: Was nervous writing this cause I wanted it to be well written as my first contribution to the COD writing community— but I hope you like it!! It’s based off of THIS TIKTOK!! Credit goes to them for inspiration! Ignore my clunky layout..

Tw: None! It’s all fluffy content 🫶

Fingers silently tapped along the side of the can of Red Bull in her hand, eyes fixated on the Russian who spoke on and on about… what was it again?

It started as his recent upgrades to his helicopter that he cared for like it was his masterpiece. Then again, it has helped the team out of so many bad situations on countless occasions, as well as made travel a lot easier. The copter even brought some amusing memories— one incident in particular being one that won’t be let go for a while. It made her smile a little to herself even to this day. She supposed that he had every right to go on and on about such a useful vehicle.

The conversation seemed to drift into more of his travels while flying it than the vehicle itself. That seemed to be the case, anyways, with how he spoke of the common cuisine throughout the countries he’s flown through that he wanted to try.

In all honesty, she hadn’t been listening for the majority of the time he spoke, only catching utterances of how he fitted the copter with new blades to make the flight smoother and how he’s never tried a churro before. Her gaze had been glued to him the entire time, mind stuck on admiring the man before her as they enjoyed their lunch break together. It was hard not to. Seeing him so relaxed in her presence eased her heart and the sound of his voice, thick with his Russian accent, was like music to her ears. The Lieutenant could listen to him talk all day if she could. To add that he was quite handsome, too, only made her infatuation stronger.

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted to try?” The sudden question pulled the woman from her thoughts. Her lashes fluttered as she sat up in place, just noticing his expectant gaze lingering on her face. For a moment, a wave of embarrassment washed over her, not knowing whether or not he had noticed her almost lovesick gaze just mere moments ago. If he did, he made no comment or any physical gesture showing that he did. He only kept his intense gaze on her, shifting slightly in place as if anxious to continue his rambling.

���Kissing me.”

“No, fish and chips. Is it really as good as they--...kissing you?”

“What..? Kissing me?” It took everything in her to not laugh at his bewildered look that melted into one of pure confusion. Instead, a look of slight surprise was present on her face, a brow raised in question. Teeth bit at the inside of her lip, watching the gears in his mind turn oh so slowly to try and process the whether or not she actually said that.

He turned his head to face the wall in front of him and across the room. Not understanding his muttered Russian speech, she smiled to herself before downing the rest of the Red Bull in her hand and began to stand. The crinkle of the aluminum in her hand did nothing to catch his attention, nor did her presence standing over his shoulder.

A smirk tugged to her lips, leaning over his shoulder to level her head with the side of his. A free hand rested on his shoulder for balance and her lips pressed firmly against his cheek. The feeling of his facial hair itched lightly against the softness of her lips and for the short moment they remained against his skin, she could swear she felt the surface of his cheek warm against them. The Lieutenant smiled softly at him, stopping by his ear before pulling away completely. “See you later, Sugar.”

The sound of his breath getting caught in his throat pulled a chuckle from her, removing her hand from his shoulder and making her way to the exit. She dropped the empty and crushed can away, the aluminum can clattering against the sides of the trashcan until it reached the bottom.

A silence lingered in the hallway as she began to retreat to the training grounds where she would be supervising drills for a bunch of recruits, but only for a moment as the sound of heavy, rushing footsteps quickly closing the gap between her and the source filled her senses. A smile tugged to her lips, turning around in time to see the pilot red faced but with the dopiest grin pulled onto his face.

Tags 🏷️

@ohworm-writes @ghostlywhiskey @bookobsessedram

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Raven!

I’ve read your recent writings for the Fellow blog event (the one where Fellow meets Jamil and the one where Fellow is informed of who exactly was in the NRC Playful Land group) and that’s got me curious.

I know this is mostly speculation, but who do you imagine Fellow’s ex-employer to be such that he would be so casual about the identities of his marks? People like Jack, Ace, and Trey are ordinary and come from ordinary families. I would understand for the likes of Vil and if you stretch it, Cater, who while rich and/or influential (or are the children of such people) can still be considered ‘regular’ rich kids. My point is that sadly I feel it wouldn’t be hard for their kidnapping to be labelled as a tragic disappearance and swept under the rug.

But then concerning others such as Kalim, Leona, the Tweels, Ortho, and such, it would spell much trouble for the kidnappers? As Jamil put it to Fellow, them disappearing isn’t a matter that can simply be hand waved away. I have no doubt that Fellow’s ex-employers aren’t small time crooks and actually have power, but surely that power has its limits in the face of what they would have to deal with. They wouldn’t be incurring the wrath of one force, it would be many. Many forces, I might add, with the power and resources to track them down even through unofficial means. As a side note, Book 6 showed us how Idia was willing to destroy the world for Ortho.

Then again, it could just be Fellow’s hubris getting the better of him such that he has vastly overestimated the capabilities of his ex-employers? He seems to me like someone on the lower rungs (sorry Fellow) of the Playful Land criminal endeavor and wouldn’t be privy to the details or who exactly is involved. I dunno, maybe I’m thinking too much into this. But it would be nice to hear your thoughts on the matter!

[Referencing this post and this post!]

Yes, Fellow is very small fish to fry compared to his employers. We learn in his Playful Dress vignettes that Fellow only took up the Playful Land gig because he happened to find a job posting for it that pays well. It's not likely that he has a lot of say in what goes on if they were looking to hire just about anyone willing to do the dirty work, despite claiming to be the park manager.

While he doesn't seem to know the exact details of who the more influential boys of the group are, he at least knows about their affiliation with THE prestigious Night Raven College (which is partly why he targets them in the first place). However, Fellow does still demonstrate complete assurance that they can get away with their entire operation. I think this is the result of two factors. One is, as you may have suggested, Fellow not knowing much about the inner workings of the organization (and thus having no knowledge of its limits). The other is far scarier (and seems to be more likely to me due to the evidence we have on hand), which hints at a criminal underbelly in Twisted Wonderland that holds even more money and influence than even the Asim family has. The latter is implied, as Fellow brags quite often about his benefactors and even discusses the construction of the park as being the result of many powerful mages. Cater also mentions early in the event that Playful Land has been trending on socials lately, but this also implies that NONE of the people that went missing after going to the park made headlines or drew suspicion to Playful Land. This means that not only do the people behind the park have money, but somehow also the far-reaching power to control literally every bit of information on the web about them. Let's not forget too that they SOMEHOW have the technological capabilities to jam and limit Ortho's capabilities, even though this guy was made by a genius inventor.

Now look, I'm not saying that frightening organizations like this don't exist in real life. To deny that is to be ignorant. What I am saying is that for game like Twst (where several of the main characters are from very crazy wealthy families), it's asking us to do a LOT of suspension of disbelief in order to sell the story. This is just the beginning of my list of gripes with the logic of Playful Land. If you want to read more of my thoughts on the subject, you can check out this post!

[absolutewhore101]

Better Man - Chapter 5

A/N: here's chapter 5! taglist is being updated with every post, so lmk if you want to be added/removed. i'm looking to do updates every monday, so stay tuned :)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Listen to 'Better Man' by Taylor Swift; Stage 3 - bargaining (kind of)

Warnings: swearing, Joel

Word Count: 1.4K

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

This is a journal entry.

MINORS DNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stairs leading up to your bedroom had never felt so tiresome, but you were dragging yourself up by the time you reached the top. 

That fight never should have happened. Carly never should’ve happened. Joel never should have happened. All you needed was the reassurance that you did the right thing, but who could you even go to?

You were sure that the people you’d come to call friends almost certainly knew about Joel, and none of them had told you. 

You couldn’t talk to Tommy, that much was obvious. You thought about talking to Ellie, but even if she did know, this wasn’t her problem. 

Was it only you? Were you truly the last person to know?

You sat down on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall in front of you. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, all of them focused on Joel. 

How could he have done this? There was nothing you could’ve done to stop him once he started, but wasn’t there something you could’ve done to prevent it?

Why weren’t you enough?

A tear dropped off the bottom of your chin, landing delicately on your hand. 

You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the notebook you’d had for a few months. That journal was the only thing you felt truly comfortable sharing everything with after you found out about Joel. 

You fished around for a pen, but came up empty. Walking past Ellie’s room, you peeked in, finding her gone. 

You shook your head, assuming she had never come home in the first place, as you made your way downstairs.

Walking into the kitchen felt more painful than it should’ve - Joel’s coffee mug was on the counter, rings stained around the inside of it. The book he’d been reading left on the table, bookmarked to the page he'd left off on. 

You walked past all of it and went to the junk drawer, grabbing a pen and heading into the living room. 

You sat down on the couch, pulling your feet up underneath you, and started writing. 

I know…

You paused. 

What did you know?

I know that I’m probably better off on my own. Better off than loving a man who didn’t know what he had when he had it.

You wiped your face, willing your bottom lip to stop trembling. 

You flipped back through the pages you’d already written in, rereading the words you’d spilled when you started to suspect Joel was cheating on you. 

It was easy to see the permanent damage that he’d done to you. You weren’t sure you’d ever find love in the world after it ended, and you were certain you’d never find it again. 

And then you flipped back even further, back to the hearts and doodles and the love you’d needed so badly to get out. 

Why couldn’t you just forget when it was magic? When everything was okay?

There were so many thoughts swirling around in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put them on paper. Instead, you placed your journal on the coffee table and went back upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. 

You splashed some water on your face, hoping to rid yourself of the redness that occupied your cheeks.

“You know you had to do it.” You muttered. 

God, why did it have to be like this? You used to be curled up in bed with Joel by this point, whispering sweet words to each other until you fell asleep. 

Now, it was the middle of the night, and you were trying to convince yourself that the bravest thing you’ve ever done in this fucked up world was run. 

From Joel and everything he signified now. From Tommy and the sympathy that could only go so far. From all of Jackson, and the inevitable stares that you were expecting. 

You walked back into your bedroom, pulling back the covers and laying down. 

“I just miss you.” You whispered into the dark. “But I just wish you were a better man.”

—---------

When you woke up, you found yourself reaching for his side of the bed, only to find it empty. 

The events of last night came rushing back to you, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. 

You got out of bed, trudging down the hallway and back downstairs. You didn’t have the appetite for breakfast, but you suddenly found the inspiration to write. 

Your journal felt heavier than it ever had before, and you knew it was the weight of the words you’d written last night. You couldn’t help but wonder how much heavier it’d feel in a few days, and if it would ever feel so light again. 

I know that I’m probably better off all alone. I don’t need a man who can change his mind at any given minute. 

And suddenly, the sadness you had felt just last night had morphed into anger. 

And it was always on his terms! I waited on every word that came out of his mouth, hoping they’d turn sweet again… like they were in the beginning. 

The jealousy that he had for you that you were never able to place popped into your mind. 

He’d always been jealous of the love you were able to so freely give - he’d said so himself one night. He didn’t understand how you could love him so unconditionally, could love the world so openly. 

Was that when he started talking down to you? When he realized that he’d never be good enough for you? 

He talked to you like he knew you’d always be around, and maybe you would’ve. Maybe you would’ve stayed with him if he talked to you like that - pushing your love away like it was some kind of loaded gun. 

But you couldn’t be the third person in your relationship. You should’ve been the first, and Joel just didn’t seem to get that. 

And he never thought you’d run. 

You looked out the window, seeing a crowd of people gathering in the middle of town. You stood up, trying to get a better view of what was happening. 

All of a sudden, laughter sounded, loud enough that you could hear it inside your house. 

Curiosity got the best of you, so you opened your door, walking out onto your porch. 

You could finally see what everyone was crowded around - Joel. 

“I’m shocked you survived!” Someone yelled. 

“Yeah, looks like it did a number on you!”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Had he gone on a run this morning? Had an infected gotten too close?

Tommy walked around the crowd, eyes locked on you. You wanted to turn around and go back inside, locking the door behind you, but something kept you rooted in your spot. 

“What’s going on?” You asked him once he was close enough to hear you. 

Tommy shook his head, gesturing you to go back inside. 

You were ready to protest, to tell him he had no right to step foot in your house, but he spoke before you could.

“Please. They don’t need to see this.”

You followed him inside, shutting the door behind you as Tommy turned to face you. 

“What were they talking about?” You said, anxiety creeping into you. 

Tommy hesitated before he answered. 

“You.”

“Me?” You asked.

He nodded. “You, Joel… last night. Word got around pretty fast that he’d moved in with Carly and people came knocking.”

You felt nauseous. The town you lived in, the people you once called friends, were celebrating that Joel was finally free of you. And he was loving it. 

Your knees buckled, but Tommy caught you before you could hit the floor, helping you walk over to the couch. 

“This can’t be real.” You muttered, looking up at him. 

His lips drew into a thin line. “I’m afraid it is.”

Your eyes closed, head tipping back to rest against the back of the couch. 

If Joel was a better man, this wouldn’t be happening. 

If Joel was a better man, you’d still be in love. 

“Tommy?” You said.

“Yeah.” He responded. 

“I know why I had to say goodbye to Joel like the back of my hand, but why couldn’t he just be a better man?”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, head swimming as he thought about what Joel had put you through, and how he hadn’t done anything to stop it. 

“I don’t know.” 

That was the last thing he said before he walked out of your house, gently closing the door behind him. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there on the couch, tears falling down your cheeks, before you picked your journal back up. 

He would’ve been the one if he was a better man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Chapter 17: Corrosion

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE 5 MONTHS!!! Tbh this was probably the hardest chapter I've had to write thus far and it was just not working with me. But honestly combined with the new Warwick trailer, and the amount of people flooding into my account and mass-reading my stuff lately??? Thank you so much for the motivation y'all, it really means a lot <3

So without further ago, have this 3k word chapter!

Masterlist

It had taken nearly an hour just to settle the crowds once the officers had left. An entire mob of people, suddenly panicked and in need of a level head to tell them what to do and how to feel. So, by the time Benzo was actually able to walk into the backroom of the arena, the anger that coursed through his veins had (somewhat) been able to cool down, no longer quite boiling over. Now replaced by anxiety that fought with his typically cool-headed mind that was trying to remind him to be rational. The pain in his side wasn’t helping none, of course. His lungs were already shite, but that Enforcer slamming the butt of his gun into his ribs hurt like a bitch… He took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the burning protest of his lungs.

Emotions are never good for business.

“They’ve gone too far this time.” Silco spat, slamming the door as he entered the room behind Benzo. “I mean, storming in here like they own the place, waving their guns around? That’s a new low, even for them.”

“And Min?” Benzo asked, sliding a hand through his thin brown hair, urging his breathing to remain even. Silco nodded, waving his hand as if she were an additional afterthought. Benzo thought about Min getting arrested, the way they threw her to the ground like she was nothing, and suddenly he felt the need to slap Silco upside the head. Bigger fish, he reminded himself. “They’ve never made this much of a show for an arrest before. Grayson knows we’re important down here, and now she’s aiming to take us out of commission.”

“Min’s been arrested just as many times as the rest of us.” Silco argued. “She's strong, she can handle it. Standard protocol; get some bail money together, we run down to the station at first light-” “Are you seriously that petty?” Benzo stepped forward, facing Silco face-on. His tone was careful but carried a weight to it. “This was a godsdamn army, for what? Arresting one lass? This goes beyond your  fucking ‘protocol’!” 

Silco stepped up, meeting Benzo eye-to-eye. Benzo could see the anger in his eyes, flames of passion, he knew the look well amongst his fellow Zaunite revolutionaries. He only wished that he could believe that any of those flames burned for their missing sister-in-arms, but that would be expecting him to put his own anger aside for the good of the cause, for the good of others. And Benzo knew that wasn’t about to happen. 

Taking a deep, attempting-to-be-calming breath, Benzo disengages from Silco’s fury, centring back his focus to address both of them. Noting Vander was still silent, glaring the same hole into the ground.

For fuck’s sake, he thought to himself. 

“You two are the fucking leaders here, aye?” Benzo barked. “So where’s yer fucking plan of attack? What do we do? We’re gonna break her out, right?”

Silco’s the one to speak up, of course, shaking his head aggressively. “Are you kidding me? If we’re caught anywhere near top-side, we’re landing ourselves in a cell right next to her. We’re too conspicuous, too high-profile, and Grayson obviously has her eye on us.” Benzo made a move to fight against Silco, but Vander finally chooses to speak up.

“He’s right. We go running in after her, even all the cogs in the world won’t be able to pay her way out. Odds are, we get clinked too. Then what good are we?”

“Oh give your head a shake!” Benzo exclaims. “We could fucking try!”

Vander’s jaw tenses. “This isn’t a ‘run in half-cocked’ sort of deal.”  Bento scoffs, eyes practically rolling out of his head.

“So…what? We can do…nothing, then? Is that right?”

Vander takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he’s focussing on his breath. “Nope. But I think I know who can.”

***

It’s rather unfortunate that, out of all the things you could have inherited from your mother, the recurring habit of getting arrested was one of the more notable.

Also unfortunate that cops are capable of learning.

“Minerva!” Grayson’s voice, practically spitting out your name, had caught you off guard. Your eyes glazed over, looking off to the side. From your spot, seated on the ground with your captured hands sticking out awkwardly in front of you, most of her face hidden by shadows. All the light filtered in through the barred window on the door to your cell, a torch light. The cell was completely lightless, almost a pit of darkness. Dank, dark, and too quiet to be peaceful. But what you could make out from her appearance, you could see wrinkles formed between her eyebrows and a deep sneer. 

“Sorry Commander, I must have dozed off there for a moment.” You finally responded. “Welcome to my humble abode! I’d offer you a drink, but I’m a little…tied up, at the moment.” You lifted your hands, ignoring the cramped feelings in your muscles and joints. The thick metal that encased your hands wore you down, like holding a weight you had no consent in holding, and no ability to put down. 

She didn’t respond to your jest, simply continuing to stare down at you, face like stone but the underlying disgust ever-present. Tough crowd.

“The counsel has been sent the details of your case and are currently discussing further actions.” She explains. “But it’s customary that someone speak with you directly before any major decisions are made.”

“Gonna be a short conversation,” you note, “y’know, on account of the fact that I’ve done nothing wrong. But I suppose everytime something bad happens, us ‘fissure folk’ are to blame, huh?”

She moves on, as if she doesn’t even hear you. “Your nose looks like it hurts.” She notes. Her shoulders are less square than you’ve seen them before, she’s more comfortable here than when you’ve seen her in the Underground. Although you’ve seen her without her helmet before, notably at the apartment when she first introduced herself, seeing her whole face here felt…oddly personal. 

You twitch your nose, feeling the dull pain spike between your eyes. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Wanna tell me about the girl who did it? Looked to be a girl by the name of…” she looks down at a file you hadn’t realized she was holding. “Sevika, right?”

Your eyes glance down at the file. Just how many names did they have? “I don’t know, it’s all a little…fuzzy to me. Pretty sure it could have been one of your guys, you know, when they forced me onto the ground and locked up my hands without probable cause.” 

She looks back down at you, eyes cold and unamused. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?” She closes the file and reaches into her pocket. Pulling something out, she shows it off to you with an extended arm. 

“Look familiar?” It’s hard to make out what she’s showing you at first, but slowly you work out the details. A piece of fabric, red cotton. It was wrinkled and stained beyond saving, but there was a darker, fresher stain around most of it that hadn’t been there last you had it. Of course it was familiar, you’d been wearing it-or ones like it-most of your time in the lanes. The bandana that used to be a staple of your wardrobe, now bloody and in the hands of the Chief of Enforcers. 

Your mind flashes to the job just a couple weeks ago, when you’d left the fabric tied around the thigh of that Enforcer you’d attacked. You can feel your heartbeat raise ever so slightly. There’s no way they could have actually linked you to the crime with just your bandana.

“Nope.”

“Really? Cause in all of your mugshots, you’re wearing one just like it in your hair.” She pockets the fabric again. “I notice you’re not wearing one now. Lose it recently?”

You shrug, tilting your head back. “Is changing hairstyles a crime now? I’ll have to let my salon know.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts from three nights ago?”

“You’ll have to ask your mother, I believe I was at her house.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long, deep sigh. “Minerva,” her tone is calm, but irritable. Like she was scolding a small child. 

You mimic her, rolling your eyes as well, but significantly more dramatic. “Grayson.”

“I am aware that you and your…compatriots may be used to certain lax standards. But I can assure you that physically assaulting one of my officers is not something I intend to easily brush under the rug.” Your hands attempt to fidget within their constraints, your bones buzzing with the need to move them. “I know the man you hurt, he's a good officer. He has a family, a wife and child. Are you really going to allow your anger to blind you so much that you’re willing to take away a child’s father?”

You lean forward, the chains rattling with your movements. “Several of the people your officers pointed a gun at tonight have families too. Those ‘good officers’ you have, they attack and aim firearms at women and children on a daily basis.” Gone was your mocking tone, your light-hearted facade. “You attack our people in our streets, in our businesses, in our homes. But hey, it’s different right? We’re all just fissure-folk trash to you.”

“And that justifies you nearly killing one of my men?” 

You kill hundreds of ours.

Your jaw tightens, biting your tongue. She’s not going to goat you into a confession that easily.

“I didn’t touch ‘your man’.” You finally respond, sitting back against the wall. “And if all you brought me in for was some half-baked story built around a piece of red cloth…well, it’s good to see you’re just as incompetent as your predecessor.”

The room falls silent, both of you glaring daggers at each other. You swear the room grows colder, the cold stone walls looming over you more and more with every passing, silent moment. You tried so hard to focus on the woman in front of you. Maybe if you were more aware, better able to scan her and read her body language, you could find something on her. Find something that you could use against her. But all you could focus on was your bones burning with the urge to use your powers, fanned on by the anger that’s coursing through you. You needed to get out of these damn constraints!

The door to your cell opened again, and another officer poked his head in. This one was much younger, and clearly very nervous. Twitchy eyes looked over from you, to his superior, just as Grayson’s head snapped back to glare at him.

“I gave orders that we weren’t to be disturbed.” Grayson snarled, and you could see the officer practically jump out of his skin in fear.

“Um…I’m sorry Ma’am. But uhh, you see…there’s someone demanding your presence outside.”

“What?” She dug into her pocket, fishing out a silver pocket watch. “It’s not even dawn yet. The doors to the station don’t open for another hour.” 

“There were, um,” his eyes dart over to yours, and the obvious anxiety in his gaze makes you smirk. “Very insistent.”

They? God, please tell me the guys didn’t decide to come…

Grayson lets out a long, heavy sigh of frustration. Stuffing the pocket watch angrily back into her jacket and snapping her folder shut, she begins to storm off out of the room. Just as she grabs onto the heavy metal door, however, her head whips back to stare directly at you. Her eyes, furious.

“We’re not done here, you understand.” It wasn’t a question. 

Lifting your shackled hands to your forehead, you give a mocking-serious face and a curt nod. “Aye aye, cap’n.” 

The door slams behind her, and immediately your mind begins to spiral. The guys can’t have come here, they wouldn’t. Sure, it was basic protocol that all of them would immediately jump to bust the others out of prison whenever one of you got pinched, but this wasn’t your typical riot-crashing or pickpocketing charge. Closing your eyes, you try not to linger on the blurry images of the raid. The white hot shock of fear upon seeing a gun pointed at Narco, Skye, and little baby Vi. The way the frequency of the Enforcer’s guns seemed to scream at you in such large quantities. The fear, all but palpable within the arena as people either were pulled into the fight or ran for their lives. The thought of Benzo being clubbed down, Silco with a knife against his throat and hands raised in surrender, the rage in Vander’s face as they placed you in cuffs. 

This wasn’t like any other run-in with the cops that you’d experienced. This was a whole other level, and you knew that if the guys tried to fight you out or pay anyone off; they’d wind up in cells just like yours. 

You tried not to let your mind linger on that image for too long, either. 

Your throat started to burn with the tears you wouldn’t let yourself shed, your thoughts spinning in and out of control, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. Trying ever so hard to calm your breathing. Please let it not be them out there…

Loud shouting filtered in through the cracks below your cell’s door. You couldn’t make it out, even if you tried, or even how many voices there were, but you could tell it was definitely heated. Were those the guys, fighting tooth-and-nail for your release, only to get shackles placed on them as well? Forced to the ground, kicking and screaming, and arrested in front of a huge crowd with your rage-filled family, forced to watch?

You could only anxiously listen in, your ears straining to hear the muffled sounds as you sat, uselessly, in your stupid little cell. This continues on for what felt like an eternity, but most likely what would have been only half an hour. Until, finally, the door to your cell swings open. On the other side, a very pissed-off Grayson. The flames of her rage practically emanated across the room, getting warmer and warmer as she stormed over to you, keys in hand.

“You got lucky again, Minerva.” She grunts out as she leans down, grabbing your shackles with probably more force than necessary. As she begins to unlock your restraints, your hands slowly begin to regain movement ability, you can feel the energy of your magic slowly flood back into your fingertips. The vibrations of all the metal around you, singing to you like a beautiful orchestra. You could only shut your eyes, the flood of emotions that came with your powers almost overwhelming to your already anxious body. You didn’t even realize that Grayson was still speaking. “-won’t be the last time you’ll be in one of my cells, I can promise you that.”

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t help but ask. You know you sounded pathetic, but this was honestly not how you pictured this going down.

Grayson laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. “All you Underground folk, all you do is play dirty. Lying and cheating, it comes to you like breathing.”

That didn’t answer your question, but as Grayson slapped a normal pair of handcuffs on you, using them to force you up to your feet, you felt it was better not to ask followup questions. She dragged you by your arm out of your cell and into the all-too familiar main chamber of the Enforcer’s main station. On the other end, however, much to your surprised wasn’t the boys. Rather, two female figures. 

“Minerva!” Not even your mother’s cry was enough to shake you fully out of your shock as she surged forward, throwing her arms around you in a tight embrace. Out of habit, you tried to return your embrace, only to quickly remember your shackles. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked, quickly pulling away to look down at her with furrowed brows. “You shouldn’t-”

“The boys phoned me!” Her salt-and-pepper hair wasn’t in its usual braid, still down in flowing waves, showing that she had come straight here from bed. Her thick winter coat had been thrown on overtop of her wool nightgown, and her boots were unlaced. 

“They phoned both of us.” The second figure spoke up, Niya’s tone was stern, moreso than you think you’d ever heard from her. Her citrus-coloured hair was messier than how it had been at the arena, and there was a new cut along her lip that she must have gotten during the raid. She looked tired, but more than that, she looked mad. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” You looked back down at your mom. “But, why-”

“Your mother and Ms. Niya have negotiated for your release.” Grayson’s words were heavy, and she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding her snarling face. With begrudging movements, she reached down, unlocking your handcuffs. “You’re free to go.”

Before you really even have a moment to wrap your head around what’s happening, your mother is pulling you away from the captain, all but dragging you towards the door. “Come on,” she whispers to you, “we need to get out of here.” But your eyes are still stuck on Grayson’s, the rage flowing off of her body in waves. 

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Minerva.” She spits.

With all the confusion swimming around in your mind, you try to think of something to say; one last quip to gain the extra hand. You’ve held your ground for so long here, and yet, the only thing you can really think to say is, “looking forward to it.”

[amethystina]

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as your posts make them smile. Please list five things that make you unique, four things you are super passionate about and why, OR three of your favorite memories. Feel free to send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile🦉

Thank you so much! I've been trying to compile five things that make me unique because I think that a) most of us need practice on that (as well as complimenting ourselves), b) it sounds like fun, and c) the other two were somehow even harder 🤣

So yeah! Five things that make me unique:

1. Despite being fairly tall (176 cm or 5'9) I have small and dainty feet. Like, disorientingly dainty. It looks ridiculous.

2. I burp when I'm hungry, not when I'm full (I also burp from carbonated drinks, but that's pretty normal, I'd say). And, usually, it's only when I'm really hungry. This means that sometimes when I hang out with people who know me, I burp and they go: "Oh shit, right. We need to eat something." In other words, my burps have become the universal — and urgent — signal of "drop everything, it's time to eat!" to many of my friends.

3. I'm really good at reading people and figuring out why they behave the way that they do. And then replicate it in my fanfics, if I feel so inclined 😆 I try my best not to do it with people in real life, though, since I feel that's kind of invasive. I don't want to assume that I know what they're thinking or who they are as people. Fictional characters are fair game, though, and, as most people who have read my fanfics know, I can write pretty much every character I've run across at least passably well. So yeah.

4. I'm good with my hands and any activity that requires the use of them I can usually perform really well within my first five attempts (often fewer). Which is why I have so many goddamn hobbies, and why I use so many mediums when I draw, and why I sculpt, and why I cross-stitch, and weave rugs, and can build furniture, and cut hair, and... you get the point. It even works with video games, where I'm surprisingly good at them from the moment you put the controller in my hands. Hilariously, one thing I do not excel at is having nice handwriting. I can write prettily with some practice, sure, but my regular handwriting is honestly pretty mid.

5. When I grew up, I spent a lot of time on the island where my dad's family has lived since the late 1800's. I'm related to the majority of the people there and so, when we were children, me, my cousins, and any kid our age, were let loose like little wildlings. We climbed trees, walked to one end of the island to the other, explored the ruins of old cottages, went bathing in the lake unsupervised (that none of us drowned is a miracle), went fishing, played in the nearby church etc. We were running free in a way few kids get to. And, since we were all related or knew each other, it wasn't uncommon to just wander into whatever house you were closest to when you were thirsty or needed to go to the bathroom. Or when you wanted a cookie or sweet treat (my dad's Aunt Rut always gave me raisins and I got to sit underneath her kitchen counter munching on them while listening to her bake). I think that has impacted not just my sense of independence and courage, but also how I view a community and how I treat other people. Especially now, when my cousins's kids are the newest generation of little wildlings, running through our house, asking for water and treats on their way to their next big adventure, and I get to continue the tradition. There's something very special about being in a community like that, where you feel safe and taken care of, and can offer the same in return. And the fact that it has been going on for generations and, hopefully, will continue to do so.

So there! Those were five things! Not all of them were compliments, as such, but at least things that, in some way, make me unique.

Thank you so much, positivity owl! 💜