#intellectual-applesauce

[lover-of-mine]

The thing I find fascinating is that the show runners are fully capable of writing engaging couples. Henren, Bathena & Madney – their relationships are beautiful. And then we have Buck and Eddie with their respective LIs. It’s almost as if they want the relationships to fail.

This season, they had every chance to set up Tommy as a suitable LI for Buck. But they didn’t? They didn’t even have to show a grand love confession or the likes, but at least some small gestures. Them holding hands in the hospital, Tommy dressing up for the bachelor party, being a little more sensitive when they ran into Eddie during that first date… Just a few simple things that would have made all the difference.

I feel like most of the love for Tommy comes from headcanons the fandom accepted as universal truths, while there isn’t much in canon to support it.

This isn’t meant to be hate on the character (though it probably will be taken that way by certain people), it’s just that I don’t think he is a good fit for Buck. He’s guarded and deflects with a dry sense of humor, when Buck needs a person to be vulnerable with. You know, someone who is so soft and sickeningly sweet with him. So far, I didn’t get much of the sorts from Tommy. But then again, we didn’t get to see a whole lot of the relationship actually playing out on screen, so who knows.

And the other thing that started to bother me is about the daddy issue thing. There is nothing wrong with showing (or alluding to) a couple having an active/kinky sex life. In general, I’m all in favor of it.

But looking back at season one, Buck used sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism to feel a connection to people. And he doesn’t have the best relationship with sex to begin with (Remember 7x05 and the talk with Eddie, where it hadn’t occurred to either of them that saying no is an option? Doesn’t sound healthy to me.) If they wanted to set Tommy apart, they should have put all their efforts into building an emotional connection between the two. I’m not saying that sex can’t be a part of it - not even that it can’t be kinky - but that the show should have put much more emphasis on the emotional aspect of it rather than the physical attraction.

Maybe it’s just wonky writing due to a shortened season but the relationship between the two isn’t half as good as it could have been.

No, but I made a post about this during the s6-7 hiatus, because it's not like the show doesn't know how to establish a love interest, bathena and madney work because all of them exist individually and Henren was introduced to us in a way where we would side with Karen, so even tho Karen only exists to be Hen's wife we care about her in a deeper way because Karen has never done anything wrong in her life. With Buck and Eddie all of the love interests are presented to us with something wrong with them. Shannon never had a fighting chance because she left and Eddie himself was never sure about her, Eddie was dating Ana and Marisol because he thought he had to, and I'm not even gonna go there with Kim. Abby breaks every possible protocol to call Buck, and she's never in it in the same way Buck is, Taylor tries to take advantage of Bobby's addiction for her personal gain and continues to take advantage of him to get ahead, Ali is never there, Natalia is too interested in Buck's death and Tommy is callous. There's a weird metaphor in there, but the basketball scene, the way Buck hits Tommy and ricochets back and Tommy doesn't even flinch. Buck needs someone who will bend. But the show didn't even try to establish an emotional connection between the two of them, everything comes back to the physical and with a character like Buck, who was shown using sex as a bad coping mechanism, to constantly make it seem like this new relationship isn't going beyond the sex is concerning. There were better ways to imply they are having sex. Even more considering the way the show had the opportunity to make it seem like they are building some sort of emotional connection and just chose not to. Every scene we had with the 2 of them could be rewritten adding the idea that they actually care about each other beyond the attraction, and that's a choice. To go the route they went is a choice. I'm still not over the way they had Tommy not dressing up and then Eddie suggesting matching outfits in the next scene. Like, it was that easy because they showed Eddie doing it. And I don't wanna compare, but with the constant triangle formation and the way they were showing Eddie as the person who understands Buck and Tommy as the dude Buck is fucking, we have nothing happening in our screen that makes it seem like Tommy is even a little fond of Buck and all I can think about is Buck standing in front of a hot air balloon with a huge bouquet of flowers for a woman who referred to him as a boytoy. Buck deserves someone who's gone for him and none of his canon love interests gave me that impression. And they make a very explicit choice to not make that implication. They could've been something, but right now they aren't. If you just watch the show you don't know why they are dating. They are just there. And coming from a show that wrote bathena, madney, and henren, and the way that Tommy being a firefighter gives him a fighting chance because it's real easy to make him exist outside of Buck, it's on purpose.

[sugarchiccandy]

Get Well Gift Baskets & Hampers: An Elegant Gesture of Compassion

When a loved one is ailing, a considerate gift can significantly brighten their spirits. Get well gift baskets stand out as a quintessential expression of care, brimming with assorted items that offer comfort and convey wishes for a swift recovery. This article delves into a myriad of thoughtful ideas for assembling an ideal get well gift basket that not only demonstrates your concern but also addresses their recuperative needs.

Nutritive Comfort Foods: Nourishment for Recovery

A vital component of any get well gift basket is the inclusion of comfort foods. Consider incorporating homemade soup mixes, crackers, and soothing herbal teas, which are gentle on the stomach and comforting to the soul. Soft foods such as applesauce and pudding can also serve as delightful treats for someone with a diminished appetite. These nourishing options replicate the warmth of home-cooked meals, providing solace without the necessity of preparation, which is particularly valuable during times of illness.

Relaxation Aids: Facilitating Mental and Physical Calm

Recovery encompasses more than just physical healing; it involves mental and emotional rejuvenation as well. Including items that aid in relaxation can enhance the appeal of your get well gift basket. Items such as scented candles, essential oils, or a plush blanket can significantly elevate comfort levels. For mental diversion and stress alleviation, consider adding adult coloring books or puzzles.

Immune System Boosters: Encouraging Swift Healing

To expedite your recipient's return to health, integrate wellness enhancers in the basket. Items like Vitamin C packets, zinc supplements, and honey sticks are effective in bolstering the immune system. A stylish, reusable water bottle can also be included to promote essential hydration, further facilitating the healing process.

Personal Care Products: Luxurious Comforts

Incorporating personal care items can provide a luxurious touch to the get well gift basket, offering comfort and convenience during recovery. Products such as lip balm, hand lotion, and facial masks can provide soothing relief, particularly for someone confined indoors. These items, though small, can significantly impact one's physical and emotional comfort.

Engaging Reading Material: Intellectual Stimulation and Distraction

Books and magazines make excellent additions to any get well gift basket, offering entertainment that aligns with the recipient's interests. These can provide a welcome distraction and help pass the time more enjoyably when confined to recovery. Audiobooks are an excellent alternative for those who may find reading physically taxing during their illness.

Personalized Touches: Enhancing the Gift with Sentiment

Incorporating a personal note or a get-well card can personalize the basket, making it even more special. Additional thoughtful touches might include a soft toy or a small, easy-to-care-for plant like a succulent, which can enliven the environment and lift the recipient's spirits.

Conclusion

Crafting a thoughtful get well gift basket transcends the mere assembly of items; it involves a heartfelt demonstration of support and well-wishing during a challenging time. From nutritive foods and relaxation aids to immune boosters, personal care products, stimulating reading materials, and heartfelt extras, each component of the basket plays a crucial role in fostering comfort and expediting recovery. Ultimately, the most profound gift one can offer is unwavering support and heartfelt wishes for health and restoration.

[thebeltanequeen]

Me, a writer, an academic, an intellectual, with a BA and MA in technical and creative writing:

*trying to describe this specific sitting position*

Me: “Criss cross applesauce”

[sugarpixie]

sugarpixie:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

{✿} – What was it about the stars on that warm and mild Valentine’s night that seemed to cast a stubborn sense of purposeful magnetism into the very air that he breathed? Whatever it was, Pippin was under its influence and, in spite of the peanut-butterflies that were flurrying in his stomach, it ultimately led him to @troublewithvampires​‘ side - right where he ought to be. He sat criss-cross applesauce next to the vampire on the green, green grass with the elaborately decorated envelope still clutched firmly within his double-handed grasp.

The pixie turned his head to view Salvatore in soundless appreciation for the discontinuance of his almost profanity. His bright blue eyes sparkled helplessly with admiration whenever he looked at him, especially of late. He wondered if Salvatore could see it, if he had any idea at all of what he had come here to ask him. Pippin had never been perceptive enough to pick up on these sorts of things, much to his disadvantage. All he knew was that Salvatore made him feel very happy. He also made him feel safe and accepted and all those other soft and wonderful sentiments concomitant with romantic association that he simply hadn't felt before. If Salvatore would consider allowing him, then Pippin wished for nothing more than to provide him with that same sense of contentment and security that he felt with him. If he could give him that, the pixie's heart would be fulfilled.

He followed Salvatore’s upwards nod to gaze curiously at the stars. ❝Sally, what’s a…con-stell-ation?❞ Boy, Salvatore sure knew some big words! He was so smart. Just like Sportacus! But in a sense of the word that not even the slightly-above-average hero himself could emulate, and especially not Pippin. Salvatore was street-smart, and experienced. A stark contrast to Pippin’s own glaring lack of intellectual aptitude and social awareness. Was it foolish to imagine that someone as cool and savvy as Salvatore could find something he liked in someone like him? In contempt of his nerves, Pippin chose not to believe that it was. His sense of self-worth was fairly resolute, but he knew, even so, how others viewed him. He knew only because they had told him. Most people perceived Pippin to be something of an overgrown child, but he wasn’t - not entirely, at least. Despite his naiveties, there was so much more to him than what people would imagine. He was childish, not a child. Not everything was black & white, after all. In fact, for Pippin, his world was an entire spectrum of colours, intensely hued and topfull with different shades and complexions, each one reflecting off the others to create the fully fledged rainbow that was Pippin Parfait Peanutbutter.

With that in mind, the sugar pixie took a deep breath. ❝Actually…what I wanted to ask you…i-it’s sort of…written in this card.❞ Pippin looked bashful for a moment, but he went on, ❝My writing is a little messy…but, I wrote it just for you!❞ He smiled earnestly, hoping his sincerity would make up for it.

Upon removing the card from its envelope, Salvatore would find it hard not to be dazzled by the excessive shimmer of various glitters and embellishments, all arranged into an admirable bouquet of heart-shaped flowers, perfectly imperfect but crafted with genuine fondness for their receiver. Inside, written in red glitter crayon, were the words “To Sally. I think you’re cute. Will you be my Valentine?”, signed with a P and succeeded by three large and heartfelt x’s.

Whatever Salvatore decided was up to him, and Pippin would respect it either way. He was just glad that he was being honest about his budding feelings. It was better to try and fail than to never try at all! That’s what Sportacus had taught him.

It only took a few seconds for Salvatore to realize that it was Pippin approaching him, and immediately he visibly perked up. Though he'd been enjoying the stargazing, the chance to spend time with Pippin was much more exciting.

He turned his head to see the pixie standing there, only a few feet away, holding an envelope in his hands and with a strangely nervous expression on his face. Immediately, Salvatore was concerned, and he sat up.

"Y'alright, Sugarsweet?" he asked. A million and one different scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the last. Had someone frightened him? Hurt him? Oh, if anyone had so much as laid a finger on a single hair on Pippin's head, there would be fucking hell to pay-

Before those thoughts could go anywhere, though, Pippin spoke up again, uncharacteristically soft and almost uncertain. Salvatore blinked at him a few times, then nodded, offering the other what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He'd never been the comforting type, but he hated to see Pippin so upset.

""Course," he said, patting the grass next to him. "Come join me--there ain't too many stars out tonight, but it's nice to watch 'em anyway. Beats watchin' whatever the f-" Salvatore cleared his throat. Right. Pippin wasn't comfortable with swearing. With anyone else, Salvatore wouldn't give a shit, but he wasn't about to push that button now, not with him.

"You're always welcome to join me, Sugarsweet," he said instead of continuing that thought. One of his pointed ears twitched and he nodded up at the sky. "Ya' ever hear the names of the constellations? I don't know that many of 'em, but I can tell you some if you want." It was then that the rest of Pippin's words fully registered, and Salvatore tilted his head slightly.

"What'd you wanna ask?" he asked, his own voice softening ever so slightly. He knew what he certainly wanted to hear, but he didn't dare hope that what Pippin was about to say would be anything close to a confession or anything like that. While Salvatore was sure Pippin had some interest in him, he wasn't so vain or stupid as to assume that that was what this was about.

No matter how much he might want it to be.

[lunaastoir]

cute things i think the genshin characters would do

characters included: diluc, kaeya, venti, and albedo 

****minor lore spoilers for diluc!****

an: i’m thinking of making this into a series bc this was such an adorable concept to write so lmk if you’re interested 👀 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc 

sorry kind of starting off with something a little sad 

i think diluc would have a habit of rubbing his vision 

ok seems kinda dumb at first but let me elaborate: 

after the death of his father, diluc was quite obviously devastated 

he basically withdrew into himself after letting all the grief, pain, and rage flood his senses

i think during this time of grieving, he would’ve developed this habit of running the pads of his fingers across his vision to calm himself down 

(v similar to katara from atla) 

since his father had always been proud of diluc’s vision, the thought of touching something that reminded him of his father has always been able to bring him some sort of relief no matter how short lived

it serves as a constant memory of his dad and i think being able to have that kind of connection - no matter how small would hold a significance to him 

stressed? you’ll see his fingers dance across his vision as the crease between his eyebrows gradually loosens 

ok here’s a bonus habit (bc the previous one was sad) 

whenever he’s bartending at angel’s share, he always flips the bottles in this cool bartending way before pouring the drinks 

like the whole shabang - flips in the air, shakes it in a way that the drink foams just right 

people are usually v surprised when they see this bc woah mans has got some sKILLS 

but also bc he’s known for being pretty serious and reserved so seeing a “trick” is kind of breaking the stoic image they have of him 

after he’s done pouring the drinks he’s also really precise about closing the bottles 

he makes sure that the caps are on tightly and that nothing is leaking (which ig is another reason why he does flips with them so he can make sure that the bottles are tightly closed) 

yes he’s rich but he also wants to make sure the drinks don’t go bad bc 1) kind of a loss if they do and 2) his customers deserve the best 

sweet man pls protect him <3 

kaeya

when he’s sitting down at his desk, he brings his legs up so he can sit on his chair criss- cross applesauce 

since he’s in his office and the only other person who’s in there with him is jean, he feels like he can drop the suave, charming cavalry captain facade he puts on when he’s in public and just dial it down slightly to who he really is in that moment 

jean doesn’t say a word the entire time even tho she quite obviously notices 

don’t get me wrong, he’s still the smooth talking kaeya but just,,, more relaxed and comfortable?? if that makes sense 

so since he’s a lot more comfortable in his office, he usually folds his legs into his chair bc damn they hurt from walking around all day

this is kinda dumb but i also think he has a lot of ink stains on his hands from writing so whenever he sees a fresh one he just likes to stamp it onto a piece of paper 

usually that piece of paper ends up being an unimportant report that goes to jean 

dw he also has a bunch of pretty small towels in his bottom drawer that he uses to wipe his hands on bc the public can’t see the pretty cavalry captain w ink stains!! the world would end!! 

oH kind of a side note but i also think he would keep a small folded up picture of something klee drew him in his pocket 

he thinks it’s very sweet and he periodically takes it out just to look at it soft for this man 

last one for kaeya but since he wears boots that have the little lip on the bottom (not really a heel but enough to make some noise) he makes sure to always try his best to walk quietly around the streets of mondstadt at night 

if anyone catches him doing it he’ll wave it off and say something like “oh me? i’m just practicing my stealth - it comes in handy when you have to sneak up on enemies you know?” but in reality that’s just bs 

he really just doesn’t wanna risk waking people up <3 

venti

this adorable man is obviously notorious for drinking 

he loves alcohol!! i mean he’s the anemo archon of the city of wine and freedom so is anyone really surprised 💀

anyways venti always jokes abt not having any mora (he really doesn’t he’s not wrong) but he always makes sure to pay his tab at angel’s share 

the only reason diluc lets him drink sm is because at the end of the day, venti always comes through w the mora 

he really is a talented bard so everything he makes in singing and composing music for other people to listen to always goes straight to angel’s share (debatable if that’s for the best or not but i’ll leave that one to you) 

so yeah <3 basically venti pays back his tabs even tho he’s an archon since he doesn’t want people to experience a loss bc of him 

it’s the archon nature coming out but also the venti nature bc he’s a sweet boy 

anyways getting onto the actual habit 🕺

he has a tendency to skip/hop regardless of wherever he’s going 

he uses his anemo elemental skill a lot while doing this just he can feel a light breeze whenever he skips around 

i also think he carries around extra bard strings in his hat bc he thinks it’s a cool party trick to take them out and be like tada i have extra strings no need to worry!!! 

people are usually not that amused but he does it anyway 

also yeah uh those strings sometimes fall out when he’s skipping 💀 

he’ll be hopping and suddenly bOOM they fall out, he loses them, a kitten by the name of prince takes them, and he has to ask for help to find his strings (i believe this is exactly how venti lost his strings to prince during the windblume festival and no i will not take any criticism and if venti says something different he is lying 🔪)

also has a habit of putting his hair into a bun sometimes!!! 

he loves his pigtails but he finds that he gets bored of them occasionally and his hair needs a break from its wavy tresses so he just plops it into a bun instead 

so so cute 10/10 hairstyle he can do my hair 

anyways love this man thanks for coming home <3 

albedo

i had a feeling i would kind of have a hard time w albedo since he is a little hard to read so i hope this is ok LMFAO 

he has paint stains. everywhere. no you cannot change my mind. 

they are subtle tho i will give him that 

you can’t notice that anything is amiss until you really pay attention and then you’ll start to see the pretty pastels and greens of the sunset he was painting up on dragonspine softly smeared across his clothes 

very rarely you’ll see a cute swipe of paint across his cheek or neck and it’s honestly adorable 

he was probably pushing his hair out of his face while he was painting and some excess paint on his finger landed on his cheek :,) 

he doesn’t really care tbh he thinks it’s just a part of him and it really isn’t that noticeable so he just leaves it 

also!!! since he is a big alchemist and he’s constantly working on labs and experiments i think he would accidentally misplace a lot of his written work 

he seems very organized but w someone as intellectual as him w his brain running miles a minute, i’m sure he has definitely forgotten where he’s put stuff away 

so!! in order to help him remember, he has little notes across his lab detailing where everything is 

if he was working on something and he immediately has to put it on hold bc something came up (klee came in demanding attention or sucrose needs help) then he’ll quickly jot down a note and stick it to his desk so he’ll remember when he comes back just in case he forgets 

sucrose as a result has noticed A LOT of notes across the lab and it’s simultaneously funny and endearing 

“started experiment with sweet flowers to try and turn them into a youth elixir: papers --> on the desk right next to klee’s photo” 

final point: he lets klee braid his hair sometimes if she wants to 

she doesn’t really know how given how young she is so she ends up messing up but albedo always walks her patiently through the steps again 

always makes time for klee no matter what bc he really does care a lot abt her :,) 

i love him sm pls 

[whump-town]

A Favor

Feeling very Hotch and Hank these days (feel free to send me asks about them because I fucking love them and I will write more about them if given the chance)

No warnings

No Pairings

It begins about mid-April in the height of the whole “April showers bring May flowers” thing. Hotch is sitting on the porch when Derek pulls into his driveway. The day is chilly, the perfect sort where the weather never gets the chance to get humid because the rain doesn’t stop falling and the sun stays tucked behind thick, billowing clouds. Windshield wipers darting quickly, never fast enough to fight the rapid downpour. Sitting out in a rocking chair, sweater pulled over his white-shirt to fight the chill, Hotch cocks his head to the side as Derek throws his door open, jogging - head down- to the porch. The car is still on.

“I need a favor,” he shouts as he nears the porch. He runs on up, ignoring Hotch’s raised eyebrow of confusion. Derek follows his eyes to the car and lets out a breathless sigh. “Listen, man, Hank’s got the croup or something. The nursery won’t take him when he’s got a fever and the plumbing just blew sky high at that house I’m renovating on Sixth Street. Savannah -”

Hotch stands, all Derek needed to say was that he needed Hotch to watch Hank for a little bit. The rest is rather unnecessary. How many times did Derek spend an hour or the day watching Jack so Hotch could do his job? Hanging around a park or the office instead of out doing what he wanted. Even if he hadn’t watched Jack, Hotch loves Hank. He cares about Derek and he also likes Savannah. Besides, his day isn’t exactly looking too busy at the moment. “He’s in the car?” Hotch asks, reaching down and grabs the raincoat he’d laid over the chair beside him.

Derek nods. He winces, “he’s moody but I think he’s excited to see you.”

Hotch hums. As they near the car, Hotch’s jacket is thrown over his arm as he walks into the rain, he smirks as they get closer and Hank’s crying gets louder. He looks at Derek, a twinkle in his eye, and betrays his amusement. Hank doesn’t exactly sound excited to be here.

Derek opens the door, immediately placing a hand on Hank’s heaving chest, shushing him gently. “Hank,” he calls, rubbing Hank’s chest with his thumb. “Baby look who it is.” Hank whines, kicking out and still making softer crying sounds as he rubs his eyes and finds Hotch. “See?” Derek offers, stepping to the side to let Hotch step closer. “I promised I’d take you to see Hops.” Hank still cries, softer now but big pitiful tears that make both men’s heartache. It makes Derek feel awful that he has to leave him.

Derek steps back, sighing as he moves to the other side of the car for the diaper bag. “Everything should be in here,” Derek shouts, as he leans around and drags the heavy bag out. He hadn’t looked in it, he realizes, before leaving but he’s certain diapers are good but he’s not so sure about a spare change of clothes. If it’s that big of a deal, Hotch will just drive him to Derek’s. Besides, Savannah should be off by five and Derek should be done by lunchtime. They’ll be fine. Hotch has done the baby thing before.

Hotch unbuckles the straps holding Hank in, frowning when Hank immediately starts fighting to get the rest of the way out. His fingers have lost the dexterity he had in his youth - too many years of abusing them for all they were worth in fights, countless hours of paperwork, and... Foyet. Wiggling baby and tiny little mechanics do not help. He’s managing slowly when Derek comes back around, his grey t-shirt now soaked, and he steps back to let Derek in.

“Alright, alright -” Derek gets him out in a second. Working through the straps and buttons with no issue. “Look,” Derek turns and gives Hank to Hotch. Smiling when Hotch wraps his raincoat around the baby, rocking his body to try and soothe Hank back down. The baby takes to Hotch, wrapping his arms around his neck, and presses his wet face into Hotch’s shirt. Derek can faintly hear him hiccuping, still crying but softer now. Whining more than sobbing.

At that moment, Derek has no idea the impact of the domino that he has knocked over.

When Hank was born, before Hank was born, Reid went through this phase of reading every parenting book he perceived worth it. If they were really good, if Reid found them intellectually stimulating and correct statistically, he’d turn them over to Morgan. Annotated. They would be covered in sticky notes, full of notes and commentary. Lots of directions about orders to read the books in and how to skip around so ensure he got the best read according to Reid.

Having nothing to do with what Reid thought was best or even important, Derek found himself reading through the guides about grandparents. About the ways that people change. Adapting to being a parent and then how parents handle being grandparents.

His father would never meet Hank.

Chicago is so far away. Fran is here when she can be, she’s a fantastic grandmother. He’s called her for everything under the sun and even though Hank has had a thousand colds and upper-respiratory infections come and go, he still calls her for every single one. Just to make sure. Just for someone to tell him he’s doing all this right.

Savannah hasn’t talked to her parents in years. Things are too complicated.

Hank will have a grandmother. One.

It’s so unfair.

It eats Derek up. Grandparents had been so important to him as a child. His grandmother was one of the only people he felt safe with, always. She was just calm in the storm of pain in his life. Who could be that person for Hank? He never wants Hank to need someone but it’s better to have a net to fall on, something to brace against when the floor gives way than to come crashing through the floor. To be met with concrete where it doesn’t have to be.

Then Derek goes and spills all those dominos.

The first time that it happens he’s a mess. He dropped Hank off at daycare at seven, like he does every morning. So, reasonably, that’s where Hank should be at two when Derek goes to pick him up.

An hour later, shaking and on the verge of tears, Derek finds him in Hotch’s backyard. The two calmly swaying in the hammock, Hank drowsily listening to Hotch read “The Lorax”. Even intently listening, head tilted up so he can see Hotch, to the older man’s boring, if not entirely too complicated, commentary about capitalism and Karl Marx. The alienation of labor and lack of class consciousness, it’s no wonder the kid is falling asleep.

Putting Hotch on the emergency list had been more of a precaution for the possibility that Morgan is on a job and Savannah has work. He hadn’t really considered Hotch would need to go get Hank. Morgan hadn’t even wanted to list him, didn’t want to bother him like that.

By about the hundredth time, it’s no longer jarring to walk into the daycare and find his son is already gone. Even the workers know to warn him now.

Derek has a key to Hotch’s, he’s more than earned that right but especially these days. He lets himself into the front door and through the house, knows exactly where to find his son. The kid spends more days out of daycare than he spends in it.

“What are you two going to do when he goes to Kindergarten next year?”

They’re in the backyard, as they typically are. As annoying as he finds paying for a program that Hank doesn’t honestly attend most days, he can’t complain that much. Hank is reading exceptionally well, having two adults’ undivided attention for long periods of time helps. There are side effects. He can read books on his own but he does occasionally do old people things.

Like grunt when he sits down.

And asks to drink everything out of a mug.

Derek can see the face Emily makes, knows how this conversation goes by default of how it’s gone a hundred times before. “No,” Derek says, flatly. “You can not pull him out of Kindergarten.”

Hotch looks down at Hank, the toddler curled up into his side with a picture book. “He doesn’t have to go to Kindergarten.”

Derek had made himself sick thinking about Hank’s perceived lack of support. He hadn’t anticipated this. The giant hammock Hotch put up in his backyard. Met for fall days just like this, large enough for Emily and Hotch lay on two separate ends. Hank in the middle of them, feet kicked up on Emily’s thighs like a little king. The bookshelf in Hotch’s old office lowest shelf full of children’s books. The car seat in his old pick-up truck. The go-gurts, applesauce squeeze drinks, and gummies in his kitchen cabinets.

“There are proven benefits to homeschooling,” Emily offers, eyes peeking up above her own book.

Morgan rolls his eyes, “and there are too Kindergarten as well.”

Hotch says nothing but the blank look, the slight glare, speaks for itself.

“I don’t want my four-year-old to act like an old person,” Morgan defends. Is it not bad enough he grunts when he bends down to get things? That he’s told Savannah his back hurts and he needs a heating pad? He’s four. He doesn’t need any of those things. “No offense,” he adds, very delayed. The worst part is that he was going to have to bring Hank here this afternoon anyways. He’s expecting a new roofer at his property on the other side of town and Hank gets too antsy to watch. Besides, Hank would much rather be here.

“Look!” Hank sits up, twisting and turning around so that he can show Hotch his book. Derek moves forward, about to fuss and warn him to gentle but Hank knows what to do. He spends every day with two old people, neither as limber as they once were. Covered in scars and trauma that have stolen mobility. He knows how to be excited and bouncy with them. So he’s careful even as he looks like a monkey climbing up the side of Hotch’s legs and hip to half sit on his stomach and turn his book around. “See?”

Hotch nods, smiling encouragingly. Hank’s new thing is spiders. Bugs are very age-appropriate but Emily and Hotch struggle to maintain a blind amount of interest. Especially when Hank brings them bugs, he’s so excited too. It’s adorable but Hotch is going to lose his mind if he has to let Hank crawl into his lap with one more spider.

“I’ll be back by six,” Morgan says. He kisses the top of Hank’s head, nodding his head when Hank shows him the enlarged picture of the spider in his book. “If not--”

“He’s fine here, no reason to rush around.”

Morgan nods, "love you, buddy."

Hank ignores him, just falls over onto his side. Squirming around until he's tucked against Hotch's side, smirking up at his father.

"Behave."

But the truth is, Hank always acts on his best behavior for Hotch.

[st-louis]

rem pitlick, 3/9/22 postgame

I think we all have that aspect of poise to our game, and just holding onto the puck sometimes, I think those are concepts that we talked about as a team, knowing when to–when Marty says “punt it”–make a safe play, or when to make a play. I think that there’s a good blend and understanding on our line, when to make the safe play and when to hold on to the puck for a second and make a play.

[Lehky’s] a great player obviously, he has great finishing ability. Especially on tonight’s goal I think just the range of his shot. I thought that was kind of a far out shot that didn’t have a chance of going in. It was a rangy shot and he can make plays as well. He’s just a really great player.

[Did he know a lot about Lehky beforehand?] To be honest, not a lot, no.

I think that he just is kind of unique to himself. I’ve noticed that he is very strict on his routine. He’s kinda the type of guy where you know what he’s going to be doing at a certain time. I know everyday that he’s kinda getting in the gym, that’s part of his routine. He’s always like sitting criss-cross applesauce on his stall before games, stretching out the hips. On the ice, just the little details. He’s very good on faceoffs in the sense that he’s coming in as a winger to sweep pucks, and his finishing ability, his offense ability, his defense ability… I think he just has a lot of habits unique to him. It just goes to show that he’s been a pro for a while and he has his routine.

There was good and bad, kind of in every game.  Marty came in during the period and talked about how it was a little bit more up and down then maybe normal games [like] a track meet. We just had some defensive lapses that cost us but I think obviously we’re the kind of team who can play defensively and play a tough game and we can play a track meet as well, but the pucks just didn’t fall in our favor today. It’s hockey; it happens.

No, I think he has that in him. He has that fire obviously. But he’s such a smart guy and I think that he just kind of says it how it is. I haven’t noticed driving a high emotion, it’s more just stating the facts and intellectually breaking it down for us so we can understand. He’s usually lying on the side of positive and showing us clips. I noticed from the beginning that he’s a great teacher. It’s not kick a garbage can. There’s a time and place for that, but in between periods, he would pull up a clip and show us exactly what is going on so we can actually understand versus maybe screaming at us like we don’t know exactly what to fix. He’s very good at seeing what he wants to identify and fix and showing it to us and relaying the message.

I think we all thought it was a good game. Obviously it was back and forth and we almost climbed back in to it at the end. We’ve been playing some really good hockey… we all believe in each other and Marty has been talking about it from the beginning–swagger–I think we all understand that we can be a really good team and we are a really good team so we’re going to keep pushing.

[x]

[starboyten]

barriers - kj.w

jungwoo x reader feat. johnny

genre: fluff, humor

length: 2,008 words

warnings: like 2 curse words

a/n: italicized words will be dialogue in korean! also sorry if this kinda sucks lol

———————————————————————

You were irritated -- no, that’s not the word you’re looking for. You were frustrated, there it is, at this very moment. Well, actually, you’ve been pretty frustrated for the past couple of months now. All because of a stupid, adorable boy named Kim Jungwoo. There he was in the middle of the gymnasium, fooling around with puckered lips while the other members of NCT 127 try to avoid his advances on them. They were supposed to be practicing for their upcoming concert, but instead were running around chasing each other like kids on a playground. Your eyes trailed Jungwoo, chuckling as he engulfs Mark in a bear hug, the younger yelling in protest. You watched as Jungwoo’s lips smushed against Mark’s hands as Mark shoved him away, a whine leaving them in the process. His lips formed into a frown, and you felt yourself staring at them before a lumbering oaf, or so you called him, scared you shitless. 

“Whatcha starin’ at?” 

“Jesus Christ, Seo!” you exclaimed, clutching your chest as he pops into your line of vision. “You almost gave me a goddamn heart attack.”

He laughs and sits down on the ground next to you, stretching out his legs. He was probably exhausted from rehearsal, surprisingly opting out of being childish like the rest of his members.

Johnny was your best friend. Other than Mark and Jaehyun, he was the only one who could hold an actual intellectual conversation in English, because that’s the only language you could speak to them in.

You had met Johnny through a mutual friend. You were studying abroad in Korea and found out your roommate was interning for SM. She invited you to one of the company parties and that’s how you met him. The stupid boy whom you developed a crush on but could never talk to. If only you knew how to speak Korean, this wouldn’t be a problem. That was months ago, and to this day it’s still torturing you. 

“It looks like something’s on your mind. What’s eating you?” Johnny questioned, cocking his head to the side to look at your face.

“It’s nothing,” you said, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” Johnny said. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” You looked at him and nodded. You were about to spill it all to the boy when the choreographer called for him. “Tell me later,” he said. “Promise?” Outstretching his long pinky to you. You smiled, interlocking your pinky with his.

-

You stand outside the door to Johnny’s room, foot tapping nervously. Knocking twice, you hear loud footsteps before the door opens, revealing Johnny in his pajamas, fresh with a facemask on.

“So what’s up?”

You sit down on his bed, peering over to Haechan, Johnny’s current roommate, passed out cold. Johnny notices and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, even if he was awake he’d be clueless.” You let out a sigh. 

“So I have a… predicament.”

“Hit me.”

You look down at the floor and pray to god Johnny can keep this secret for once in his life. Last time you told him a secret of yours he “accidentally” ended up telling Haechan, who, of course, just had to tell the rest of NCT Dream.

“Okay but you have to keep this a secret, Johnny, or else I’ll murder you. I was this close to ending your life after you “accidentally” told Haechan I peed the bed laughing too hard,” you glare, pinching your fingers close together. 

“You can’t muder me, you love me too much. Plus that was really funny I couldn’t not tell at least someone.”

You raise your hand threateningly at him and he just laughs and holds his hands up in defense. Sighing, you look down at your feet and let it spill past your lips. 

“I like Jungwoo.”

Johnny blinks, trying to comprehend your words. He shifts in his spot, sitting up so he’s cross-legged on the bed.

“Like, like as in you enjoy his presence or like as in you have a crush on him?”

You laugh at Johnny’s obliviousness. Shaking your head, you shove him.

“You’re so dense, Seo. I have a crush on him, stupid.”

Johnny’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape, nodding his head as he finally understands. He peels off the mask from his face and tosses it into the waste bin under your desk.

“And you’re upset about this because?”

“I wanna talk to him, Johnny. But I can’t speak Korean, obviously, and he only speaks a little broken English. You see my predicament now?”

He slowly nods, eyes looking up and away as if he’s thinking of what to do. 

“And I can’t exactly devote my time to fully study the language, as much as I would love to, I have school to focus on! I only know enough to get me around the city and to survive during my time here.” 

Johnny hums before shooting off the bed and onto his feet, fists in the air.

“I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” you question.

“The answer to your problem,” he grins. You raise an eyebrow incredulously at him, not convinced. 

“What genius plan have you concocted now?”

“Okay so,” he starts, sitting down on the bed and crossing his legs. “I, your best friend and the greatest and handsomest person in the world--”

“The point, Johnny.”

“Anyways….” Johnny begins. “I can act as your translator! You just tell me what to say and I’ll tell him.”

“Even if he, for some miraculous reason, liked me back, I couldn’t date him anyways. Your company would get pissed. And he wouldn’t even have time for a relationship.”

You continue to ramble on before Johnny shuts you up by placing his entire hand over your face. 

“You’re such a pessimist. It won’t work out with that attitude.” You pout up at him before sighing in defeat.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” Johnny says standing up and striding towards the door. “You have two days to come up with something to say. Good night!”

“WHAT!” you shout as Johnny closes the door. You stare at the wall, collecting your thoughts. Shit, you’re in trouble.

-

Two days stressfully go by as you try to write down all of your thoughts onto paper to say to Jungwoo. 

“You absolutely cannot fuck this up,” you whisper to yourself as you wait for 127 to gather in the gymnsium again.

“You got this!” your roommate yells from her station. She sends you a thumbs up and you send her a weak smile in return. You’re shaking, and you continue to curse at yourself when you see the ink on your paper smudging form the sweat on your hands. 

You watch as 127 arrives one-by-one, nervously waiting for Johnny to arrive. As soon as you see him, you wave him over. He stands over you, hands on his hips.

“Well?” You shove the piece of paper in his hands. He gives it a quick look-over before covering his mouth and laughing.

“What?” you panic. “Is it too much?”

“No, it’s cute,” he chuckles. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Shut up!” you punch his arm and pout. “I’m nervous, okay?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Johnny reassures you. You look past him to see the other members tiredly stretching, your eyes immediately landing on Jungwoo. You see him try to touch his toes, his sweatshirt bunching up around his waist, and you feel a fresh layer of sweat coat your skin.

“When are we doing this?”

“I’m going to try to get him in a better mood first,” Johnny says. “We’re all a bit tired right now.”

“Johnny, I'm about to go into cardiac arrest, don't make me wait too much longer.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Just relax, this is gonna go fine.”

“How do you know that?” you question, but Johnny just gives you a smirk and runs off to join the other members before you can pry an answer out of him. 

Crouching down, you keep your eyes glued to the ground, counting down the seconds before you have to face your crush. 

- 

You’re almost dozing off by the time you hear footsteps approaching. Blinking and looking up, you’re met with two giant men standing over you, one being your best friend and the other being the person you like. It’s almost comical, the speed to which you get onto your feet. 

“Hi,” you gulp, trying to make eye contact with Jungwoo. You hope your face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Hi!” Jungwoo replies cheerfully and you want to curl up into a ball and roll away far from where you are. 

“Y/n has something she wants you to read,” Johnny says. “Isn’t that right?” He looks directly at you, eyeing the paper in your hands.

“Oh!” you fluster, realizing what he means. “Yes.” You shove the piece of paper out towards Jungwoo, who looks taken aback. He takes it and looks at it before looking at Johnny, unsure of what to do.

“What is this?” Jungwoo questions.

“Just listen,” Johnny responds. 

You watch nervously as Jungwoo’s and Johnny’s eyes read over the paper. Johnny begins to read aloud. 

“I don’t really know how to begin this so I’ll just get straight to the point. I like you. But not in a fan like type of way. I mean in an ‘I want to be there for you all the time when you go through hardships and hold you when you cry. The person you go to when you need comfort. The person you stay up with watching dramas with until 2 in the morning. The person who gets to hug you everyday and calls you theirs.’”

You watch Jungwoo’s facial expressions while Johnny’s reading. His eyes are wide and you can’t tell if he’s shocked or panicking. You definitely are panicking.

“‘I understand if you don’t feel the same way because we’ve never really talked other than casual interactions but I just needed to let you know because I’ve been thinking too much about it lately and it’s causing me great amounts of stress keeping it to myself.’”

By the time Johnny finishes reading, Jungwoo’s face is beet red. You can’t tell if it’s a good or bad reaction and your insides feel like applesauce. 

“Now it’s Jungwoo’s turn,” Johnny says with a big grin. 

“W-What?” you question, looking at Johnny, your eyes saucers.

“Just listen. Go ahead.” He nods to Jungwoo and you watch as Jungwoo pulls a paper out of his pants pocket. Johnny clears his throat and reads.

“We’ve never really talked formally but I wanted to ask if you wanted to get food with me sometime and watch a movie together in the dorms? I think you’re very pretty and want to spend more time with you. I don’t have the guts to tell you this myself and my english isn’t that great so I’m having Johnny read this to you.”

You think your soul has left your body. He likes you back? Has Johnny been keeping this from you??

“So I’ll leave you two to it!” Johnny says before dashing off to the others. 

You stare at the floor in full disbelief. You don’t know where to look. After about 10 seconds of silence you muster up the ounce of courage in your body and look at Jungwoo. He mirrors your stance, eyes avoiding yours. Once you look at him though, he offers a small smile at you. 

“So...?” He says shyly. “Do you...?

You blink at him before realizing what he’s asking you.

“Oh! Yes!” Jungwoo gives you a toothy grin.

“Good!” he says before someone calls his name. You give him a shy wave as he runs back to join the rest of the group.

“So, how’d it go?” your roommate asks you as you plop down next to her. You hide your face in your hands, trying to contain the squeal that was threatening to erupt from you.

“Better than I could've ever imagined.”

[nthnstrky007]

Unit Alias #1: “The Flow of Water Breaks the Dame!”

As the bullets whizzed passed my head, only one thought stood out from all the noise and panic around me: I know I should have eaten toast instead of that bagel this morning. It’s just, I get so tired of the same old whole wheat toast and almond butter; it’s not my fault the fabric of reality starts to fold in on itself everytime I choose something new for breakfast. After another twenty seconds of some mindless brutes trying to turn my apartment into a modern artist’s tribute to swiss cheese, a voice of remote reason finally speaks up:

“Leonardo Crews, please step away from the bean bag chair”.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s her: Sharon Winstead. The woman who would surely be my handler if the US government had their way and I became a secret agent or lab rat or whatever the heck they’d want me to do with these powers. I stand up and make a couple steps to the right as I put my hands on my head. At least the government sent a nice pair of legs to yell at me.  

One of the armed boneheads she brought with her speaks up, ‘Why would you hide behind a froggy bean bag chair?”

“Cause who the hell would ever shoot a froggy bean bag chair?” I challenge him and the two other armored doofuses.

They all mumble and meet eyes until one of them sheepishly says: “he’s right…” 

Sharon, the not so love-able stick in the mud that she is, won’t let me have fun for too long. “Your work here is done unit Alias. Go downstairs and do the usual routine with the landlord; come back, as I planned, when you’re done”. 

A couple ‘yes ma’ams’ and military mumbo jumbo is thrown around as they leave. I can’t help but feel sorry for guys who would willingly join an organization that has the loyalty of a teenage boy after a positive pregnancy test. 

“Real smart fellas you have there.”

Sharon looks at me, I guess with a hint of disappointment. “You know as well as I that if they were going for the kill, you’d be dead”. 

“Along with a couple billion realtites and, knowing how much the universe seems to adore me, time itself. And what’s up with ‘your plan’ anyway? The military never came in guns blazing before. Don’t you geniuses know how important I am?” 

“Are you threatening us now Leonardo?”

I relax my arms at my side as I walk into the pantry. The universe is on my team, as always, when I see one of the only undamaged things is what I’m looking for. I walk out in a sufficiently better mood with my packet of poptarts. “I’m just asking questions that pertain to the continuation of existence itself”. 

Sharon scoffs and continues on: “Do you understand the magnitude of such threats, Leonardo?”

 I wave her off with my free hand after opening my second breakfast. “ What threats? And please, it’s Leo; I’m not an award winning actor, just a potential destroyer of the timestream” I see the red emerge in her face and can’t help but chuckle. It's a mystery to me how she was able to secure one of the most secretive and ‘important’ jobs in the world with such a short fuse. Despite the fact that she is totally unlikable, the babe has grown on me over the years so I give her restless mind a break: “Y’know I’m not gonna go awol, especially when you pay for all my streaming service. And, uh, time wouldn’t be destroyed, just altered in some terrible heinous way. Such as your occupation being changed to stripper.” 

She gives me one more uneasy look before moving on. “You have a place I can sit?” 

“You mean a place you geniuses haven’t shot up yet? Don’t make me say it.”

“The frog chair?” She groans.

“I do believe it's pronounced froggy bean bag chair.” 

She gives her eyes another roll as she sits down in the thing. “Can you sit with me?” 

Sharon likes to remind me that in some ways I’m still a normal human. An example of 

this being a woman with a face and a body like hers asking me to sit down with a voice like hers using a tone like that,  regardless of if she is a facist pig or not, I’m probably gonna sit with her. 

“What’s the prob Bob?” I sit criss-cross applesauce a yard or so across from her. 

To my disappointment, not exactly my surprise, she grows serious as soon as I sit down. 

“We can’t keep doing this dance Leonardo.” 

“Doing what dance?” I let out the question with a bit of playful innocence.

“That.” She takes a moment to think before she begins her spill. “The U.W.O is not going to remain patient. The fate of existence potentially depends on what you have for lunch and you refuse to follow the guidelines that we give you. You probably can’t count how many times you’ve been told this, but you’re an anomaly. The only thing we have to go off of is my father’s theories: the regular flow of time is completely dependent on you. Every decision you make can drastically change our world’s past and half the time we can’t even detect those changes. Not to mention, if certain parts of that theory are true, the effects you can be having on our future. Leo, history is a book that you can rip up on an unknowing whim and the future is more uncertain that it has any right to be”. 

“And yet we keep dancing…”

“Excuse me?” 

I look at her for a second thinking that she for sures knows where I’m going, but it becomes clear to me she doesn’t. “You’re coming here to warn me. The U.W.O  knows that you’re the only person I can stand getting yelled at by so they send you here every time I decide to live my life so you can flutter your eyes and tell me not to. How many times have you been here this month? I admit the whole shoot-em-up bit is new, but other than that this is the same old routine we’ve done for the past year. The  only difference is I’ve been doing it my whole goddamn life and you’ve been doing it for a fraction of yours”. 

The woman actually cracks a smile as she comprehends what I’m saying. I don’t know if it’s mocking or understanding me, but, seeing as I have nothing else to do, I let her spill. “You call this living Leo? I don’t know what you do to mess up the timestream, but, judging by the hours of footage that features you exclusively watching ‘He-man’ reruns, I sure as hell know it’s not living. What, you played a new video game? Flushed the toilet too fast? You’re not living; the life you’re leading is not worth risking history for”. The sarcasm and aggression starts to leave her eyes as she looks at my face. I begin to open my mouth in defense when she shushes me with a new, almost maternal, attitude. “But I didn’t come here to play our twisted game of house. I’ve been in contact with my father”.

The news strikes a rare chord of hope in me. Sharon’s father was the closest thing I had to a dad when I grew up in the compound. He was also the one who convinced the board of directors to let me out when I turned eighteen. “Let out” is an odd way of saying letting me live in a heavily guarded cell that just happens to be in an apartment building. He ended up deciding he didn’t want to be a mindless puppet and left the U.W.O along with all his research. Last I heard, which was a very long time ago, he was up to a more scholarly pursuit. “How is he?”

She smiles as she thinks of her father. “He’s getting philosophical in his old age. After he left, he started living like a hermit in some remote island in the Atlantic. A place they’d have trouble finding if they ever were to look; he’s getting into some rebellious stuff there Leo. He wants you to leave and come see him. He wants to end this dance.”

“By ‘rebellious’, do you mean some dooms-day shit?” the words come out as the hope comes out of me. “We don’t know what the reaction will be if I get in a boat or plane. We barely know what’s gonna happen if I leave this building again. Make fun of me all you want, but, you basically said it yourself, 80s tv is the only life I can safely lead”.

“He told me to trust him. If he’s wrong, the situation will be no worse than it was before”. I could easily read the doubt in her face. “Or at least to him.”

“So what? The world ending is the same as the world not ending? Existence is all a lie and it doesn’t matter anyway? Don’t tell me he’s become some quasi-intellectual pothead who posts on psychedelic-themed online forums.” 

She rolls her eyes in response to my joke. “He’s disillusioned with our current world authority. He lived his whole thinking a plantery world order would be a good thing, so much so he helped to achieve it. Apparently after all those years and work, he thinks their practices are going to end us all. The way he sees it, the world may just end tomorrow; it’s any day now to him. In a certain manner of words, he’s desperate.”   

“And you?” 

She gives me another genuine look. “I trust my father as a leader and I care about you. He believes it's the right thing to do and you can’t keep up like this. Some of the things I’ve had to do this past year is enough for me to give up on doing the right thing through the government. Your problem is a problem that we might be able to fix on our own and trying is a lot better than you just rotting here waiting to die. Any ‘director’ who doesn’t like that can screw off.”

I let my eyes widen. “No one’s in on this? Why’d you bring the unit with you? Surely the bigwigs wire you up before you take their dogs for a walk?” 

“Watch your words; dogs we are no more, unit Alias, at least, is on this. No wires or strings attached. The general consensus is the current plan of keeping the world safe from you is eventually going to collapse without change; I can’t say they have the personal stake that my father has with the way he views us as siblings”.   

“Can’t really blame them for being worried or not particularly liking me, but they’re not here because of  what happened because of my bagel?” 

“What?”

“You came here to break me out, not to punish me for eating a bagel instead of toast?”

Sharon pulls a phone out of her pocket and scrolls through. “Oh…”

“What?”

“The ephilfel tower was built in Germany”.  

[quotes-from-oz]

This is a long quote, so I’m putting it under a cut. More like an excerpt. Anyway Baum uses the Woggle-Bug, and his college to mock ‘intellectuals’ who do not work to better the world around them and instead lock themselves in study. This section is about The Woggle-Bug college, newly dubbed the college of athletics, and it still feels relevant. It’s just a cool extended commentary.

“Welcome, Dorothy," said the Wogglebug; "and welcome to all your friends. We are indeed pleased to receive you at this great Temple of Learning."

"I thought it was an Athletic College," said the Shaggy Man.

"It is, my dear sir," answered the Wogglebug, proudly. "Here it is that we teach the youth of our great land scientific College Athletics--in all their purity."

"Don't you teach them anything else?" asked Dorothy. "Don't they get any reading, writing and 'rithmetic?"

"Oh, yes; of course. They get all those, and more," returned the Professor. "But such things occupy little of their time. Please follow me and I will show you how my scholars are usually occupied. This is a class hour and they are all busy."

They followed him to a big field back of the college building, where several hundred young Ozites were at their classes. In one place they played football, in another baseball. Some played tennis, some golf; some were swimming in a big pool. Upon a river which wound through the grounds several crews in racing boats were rowing with great enthusiasm. Other groups of students played basketball and cricket, while in one place a ring was roped in to permit boxing and wrestling by the energetic youths. All the collegians seemed busy and there was much laughter and shouting.

"This college," said Professor Wogglebug, complacently, "is a great success. Its educational value is undisputed, and we are turning out many great and valuable citizens every year."

"But when do they study?" asked Dorothy.

"Study?" said the Wogglebug, looking perplexed at the question.

"Yes; when do they get their 'rithmetic, and jogerfy, and such things?”

“Oh, they take doses of those every night and morning," was the reply.

"What do you mean by doses?" Dorothy inquired, wonderingly.

"Why, we use the newly invented School Pills, made by your friend the Wizard. These pills we have found to be very effective, and they save a lot of time. Please step this way and I will show you our Laboratory of Learning."

He led them to a room in the building where many large bottles were standing in rows upon shelves.

"These are the Algebra Pills," said the Professor, taking down one of the bottles. "One at night, on retiring, is equal to four hours of study. Here are the Geography Pills--one at night and one in the morning. In this next bottle are the Latin Pills--one three times a day. Then we have the Grammar Pills--one before each meal--and the Spelling Pills, which are taken whenever needed."

"Your scholars must have to take a lot of pills," remarked Dorothy, thoughtfully. "How do they take 'em, in applesauce?"

"No, my dear. They are sugar-coated and are quickly and easily swallowed. I believe the students would rather take the pills than study, and certainly the pills are a more effective method. You see, until these School Pills were invented we wasted a lot of time in study that may now be better employed in practicing athletics.”

“Seems to me the pills are a good thing," said Omby Amby, who remembered how it used to make his head ache as a boy to study arithmetic.

"They are, sir," declared the Wogglebug, earnestly. "They give us an advantage over all other colleges, because at no loss of time our boys become thoroughly conversant with Greek and Latin, Mathematics and Geography, Grammar and Literature. You see they are never obliged to interrupt their games to acquire the lesser branches of learning.”

“It's a great invention, I'm sure," said Dorothy, looking admiringly at the Wizard, who blushed modestly at this praise.

"We live in an age of progress," announced Professor Wogglebug, pompously. "It is easier to swallow knowledge than to acquire it laboriously from books. Is it not so, my friends?"

"Some folks can swallow anything," said Aunt Em, "but to me this seems too much like taking medicine.""

Young men in college always have to take their medicine, one way or another," observed the Wizard, with a smile; "and, as our Professor says, these School Pills have proved to be a great success. One day while I was making them I happened to drop one of them, and one of Billina's chickens gobbled it up. A few minutes afterward this chick got upon a roost and recited 'The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck' without making a single mistake. Then it recited 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' and afterwards 'Excelsior.' You see, the chicken had eaten an Elocution Pill.

[samcrocrew]

@ask-alicelockwood wants to know:  11-20 Gabi

Intellectual pursuits? Gabi is a journalist, so she likes to read and research and is pretty fucking stellar at that part of her job.

Favorite book genre?  Answered here.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? Bisexual as hell. She loves women and men and thinks that whatever your orientation is, be yourself. Because it sucks being someone else. (she says as she pretended to be someone else for like...ever...)

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) Some verses she has a very bad scar at the base of her skull. She does have some scars. Her foot, from a fall off a waterfall in high school, cut her foot at the bottom. So, on the bottom of her foot, a 2 inch long jagged scar. A cigarette burn on her left wrist from when her and her high school boyfriend and her thought harming each other was romantic. She’s anemic because she doesn’t... she does not eat right and never eats enough. She does have an eating disorder and she does realize it. 

Biggest and smallest short term goal? Not to throw up last nights taco. Not to throw up this mornings applesauce. Because pregnant.

Biggest and smallest long term goal?  Answered here.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress  Answered here.

Favorite beverage?  Answered here.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? So, Gabi has been diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder. So... what DOESN’T she think about? And what is sleep?

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? Got her appendix out, and it was right before cheer camp sophomore year. She REFUSED to stay home and miss camp. So, appendix out on Monday. Cheer camp started Saturday. Yes, she wound up back in the hospital because of it. You do not get on the top of a pyramid when you have healing to do.

[purplepeoplelickingtruthpeddler]

Every once in a while I get this really weird taste for apple sauce and sliced bread, like, together. And I have to search my memory because that's not a craving one just has.

And sometimes I realize that when I was a toddler I had this weird macdonalds themed play station where you would "make" apple pie by stamping together applesauce and plain bread in a plastic press shaped like one of their pocket pies.

And I'm almost certain applesauce and bread don't go well together, I don't know if those were the ingredients meant to be used, but I rarely got to eat back then, much less fruits or veggies. So now every once in a while, probably when I need endorphins, my brain says "hey this was good let's do that again".

Intellectually I don't want applesauce sliced bread pie.

Memory is strange.

[catmemey]

you: has cheese with an apple

me, an intellectual: has a cheese string with an applesauce cup

[scarluxia]

I posted 2,935 times in 2021

397 posts created (14%)

2538 posts reblogged (86%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 6.4 posts.

I added 85 tags in 2021

#youtube - 14 posts

#mental illness sucks - 11 posts

#borderline personality disorder - 10 posts

#jamie hanson - 8 posts

#prayer - 8 posts

#rin evans - 8 posts

#i am definitely borderline - 7 posts

#flowers - 7 posts

#rereblog for additional commentary - 6 posts

#jesus fanart - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#my child shares a name with a fictional war criminal and i can guarantee you that that is not the reason i would be considered a bad person

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Today (9 February 2021) is my 30th birthday!

That means I survived my 20s and I am honestly so impressed with myself for that

See the full post

13 notes • Posted 2021-02-10 02:26:49 GMT

#4

Some more accessibility and comfort hacks:

- drinkable food, such as drinkable yogurt, applesauce pouches, veggie juice, and smoothies. They get you nutrients and calories and you don't have to do much except buy/order them. If you have a self-cleaning blender, you can also make some of these things.

- wet naps are a lifesaver if you don't have the spoons to bathe or shower

- Freebooksy.com has a selection of free books; Nook and Google Books have accessibility settings that will read aloud to you AND turn the page, unlike Kindle.

- LibriVox has public domain books read aloud by a variety of people. They have an app, a website, and a YouTube channel.

- Replika.ai (app and website) has an AI buddy you can customize and chat with if you're lonely and none of your friends are available.

- Fill reusable bottles with water and put them in the fridge. Keep 1-2 in the fridge and 1 at your desk and/or bedside.

- If you buy frozen vegetables, you can literally just defrost and eat them. You don't need to cook them.

47 notes • Posted 2021-01-23 05:58:53 GMT

#3

Nonverbal autistic side of Tumblr,

do you have any advice on how to interpret my son's nonverbal cues? He's still a baby, less than a year old, but I have a really hard time figuring out what he needs when my husband isn't home.

When my husband is home, he can just say "He wants you to pick him up" or "he wants to crawl around", but I need to figure out how to know what baby wants on my own.

I'm also autistic but I'm bad at understanding body language. Then if he starts crying I get sensory overload, FAST.

help

57 notes • Posted 2021-04-04 01:04:29 GMT

#2

Let's talk about ableism.

I took a little break from Tumblr and when I came back, I had two notifications on different posts from different people; one called me a moron, and the other one accused me of being brain-dead.

When your go-to response to disagreeing with someone on the internet is to use terms like those, you are revealing that you think people with lesser intellectual capability are worthy of less respect than you. This can include people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, people who have brain damage, and people who may be as intelligent as you are but have difficulty expressing themselves to the degree that is normally expected. People in those categories are also on Tumblr, and they have as much right as you do to be here and to express themselves. They may see your ableism through a reblog or reply thread, and it could cause them emotional harm, which they don't deserve just for having different intellectual or expressive capabilities.

Let's try to do better going forward, strangers on the Internet!

TL;DR: It's okay to dislike or disagree with someone, but don't use ableist slurs because it is harmful to people who have differing capabilities to you. People deserve respect regardless of their intelligence or ability to express their thoughts.

162 notes • Posted 2021-05-07 20:41:44 GMT

#1

#autismawareness #autismacceptance #specialneeds https://www.instagram.com/p/CMYf-bxpvrP/?igshid=1t7s8s2i27650

562 notes • Posted 2021-03-14 02:43:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[arachneart]

I used the society6 template to make a jaam applesauce backpack! not selling it though because jaam is not my intellectual property. 

here's a preview of what it would  look like (on the left)

and here's the design used

tagging @griffinmcelroy just in case he wants to use this (as narcissistic as the thought is lol) (edits can be made if requested)

If you’re interested in stuff I do sell my shop link is: https://society6.com/thatsroarwith12os

[poledancingghostson]

The Chanukkah Party: Part 2

Trina - Free

Marvin didn’t really care about the holidays. Though, to be fair, he didn’t really care about anything that involved the whole family. No, Marvin just gruffly followed along, with no real enthusiasm, except to correct her pronunciations or to criticize the way that she held the damn candles. So, it’s always been up to her, hasn’t it? To make the holidays anything more than another night of fighting, or, worse, suffocating silence. It was up to her to give Jason some semblance of a happy holiday season, or some pride in his Jewish heritage. So she cooked her ass off. And she smiled until her cheeks hurt. And she didn’t say anything when Marvin corrected her perfect pronunciations, or snatched the shamash from her hand and held it the exact same way she had. She remained cheerful and spread applesauce on latkes and served steaming fresh blintzes and wrapped presents with tight corners and big bows for Jason to rip open next to the fireplace. The ironic part is, during this festival of lights--a festival celebrating freedom and hope above all else--she always felt the most trapped.

But things are different now. She is highly aware of Mendel’s aversion to religion. He never misses a chance to remind her of that. But that doesn’t stop him from working as hard as he can to make sure the holidays are perfect for her. He still doesn’t know more than the simple blessing of the candles--and he can’t even sing it--and she always catches him rolling his eyes the minute the blessings have been completed. Yet, he never complains. He matches her cheer, smile for smile. He enthusiastically joins in on the baruch atah adonai because, “Hey! I know that part!”. He even bought that ugly Chanukkah cardigan last year. Though, there’s a part of her that wishes he hadn’t. She and Jason had to hide it last April, when he decided he should wear it to Passover dinner with her parents.

It was he who had suggested the Chanukkah party. She was nostalgically looking over old photos from her family celebrations when she was a kid. She was telling him stories and they were laughing and she was gazing longingly at the photo album. And, without hesitation, he began planning the whole thing. For the entire crazy, chaotic family. Which, when thinking about it now, Trina realizes is a recipe for disaster, despite how well they’ve all been getting along lately. Putting six Jews (and one very spirited goy) in a room together has never been a particularly good idea. Especially not with this particular group of Jews, who have all spent a good amount of time in the pettiest and harshest of feuds with one another.

Still, it excites her. Her childhood Chanukkah parties were never drama-free either (again, putting a bunch of Jews in a room together never is), and it warms her heart to think that Jason might experience the same joy that they brought to her. And, though she imagined an immense amount of stress would be put on her due to the planning and preparing, Mendel had taken on most of the responsibility--and most of the irrational anxiety--leaving her to focus only on the meal. Something she does happily. Mendel had offered to help with that, too, but, for the sake of everyone involved, she had turned the offer down.

Now, though, she’s cleaning up the kitchen. The salad has been tossed, the brisket is finishing up in the oven, and the blintzes are set out on platters on the counters. Cordelia is bringing the latkes and the applesauce this year. Trine, though, has some Trader Joe’s frozen potato pancakes stashed away in the freezer. Just in case.

She looks over the kitchen island, where Mendel is adjusting and readjusting every table setting, with a nervous fervor she hasn’t seen… well, she sees it quite a lot, actually. For all his wonderful attributes, Mendel sure isn’t a calm one. “It looks great, Mendel!” she calls, leaning over the island with a smile. “Stop fussing with the place settings and help me clean up the kitchen or help Jason finish his homework, or…. Something. You’re making yourself crazy.”

“I just want it to be perfect,” Mendel sighs, fiddling with the menorah for the hundredth time in the last hour.

“Nothing has ever been perfect with this family,” Trina laughs. “But the orientation of the menorah isn’t going to change that.”

Mendel nods and joins her in the kitchen, immediately approaching the sink and picking up a sponge. She can’t help the wide smile that spreads across her face. Two years later, and that still amazes her; that willingness to help. No need to be asked. No complaints. No juvenile sighs and groans. No making her feel guilty for wanting him to lend a hand around the house every once in awhile. And she can’t deny that he has a lot in common with her ex-husband--they both have that pretentious intellectual thing about them, that smarter-than-thou attitude, they’re both deeply insecure, yet deeply egotistical, and they’re both shorter than her. So, she has a type. But there are a few glaring differences. Whereas Marvin was selfish, Mendel puts Trina and Jason above all else. Whereas Marvin took his miseries out on everyone in the house, Mendel is kind and caring even on the worst days. Where Marvin was manipulative, Mendel is sincere to a fault. And, of course, Mendel is straight.

When Mendel returns the smile, Trina feels her heart flutter a bit in her chest. He lays down his sponge and takes her hands, his covered in cool, soapy water. He pulls her closer and their lips are only inches apart when the doorbell rings. Mendel groans, but she continues in to plant a quick kiss on his lips, before removing her apron and turning towards the door.

Before she can answer it, though, she hears Jason, rushing out of his room, yelling: “I’ll get it!”

She watches nervously as he skids across the hardwood floor of the living room in his socks. Her heart clenches as he slides towards the corner of the table. She has to suppress the urge to grab him and force him to slow down. He’s twelve, she has to remind herself. He can manage to get across the living room without killing himself. Right?

He does manage it. He swings the door open and greets Marvin and Whizzer. Of course they would get here first. For a long time, she could hardly be in the same room as either of them. But as they come into her line of sight--Jason dragging a smiling Whizzer back to his room while Marvin watches so lovingly and happily--she can’t remember why she’s held onto that spite for so long. It feels so inconsequential, suddenly. So petty. For the first time in years, Trina can feel that hopeful spirit of the holiday; the one she had always tried to force. For the first time in years, Trina feels free.