#it's called a DRESS CODE??? what is this kid's family on

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

"During our school's annual pride month celebration our school is decorated with pride memorabilia" oh so in June? You're in school in June? In the USA? Damn Massachusetts is WILD

[fridayiminlcve]

if i dont move to nyc or london or paris by age 27 what is the point of anything

[bumblingbabooshka]

Elieth had a 'secret earring' phase and Varith kept extorting him for candy over it.

[kamaluhkhan]

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming. 

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too. 

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s. 

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open. 

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!" 

"four summers can do that," you note. 

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug. 

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?" 

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season." 

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs. 

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun." 

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack. 

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs. 

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours." 

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there." 

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking. 

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?" 

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well? 

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah. 

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad. 

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.” 

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing. 

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting. 

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote." 

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good. 

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat. 

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach. 

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare. 

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him. 

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed. 

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right." 

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready." 

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind. 

now 

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize. 

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet." 

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly. 

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer. 

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive. 

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay. 

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly. 

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating. 

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer. 

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole? 

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too. 

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension. 

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo." 

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink. 

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes. 

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage. 

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other. 

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach." 

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose. 

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically. 

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course). 

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach. 

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming. 

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm. 

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word). 

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone. 

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked. 

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together. 

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?" 

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs." 

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!" 

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it. 

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats? 

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks." 

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was. 

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other." 

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink. 

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs. 

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports. 

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well. 

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[ckret2]

Chapter 27 of human Bill Cipher trying to trick his captors into liking him, featuring a mall shopping trip that turns into this:

Also, Bill faces the most difficult ethical dilemma of his life: should he act like a big jerk to a 13-year-old.

####

As they left the cheap jewelry kiosk, Bill tapped his new dress shoe against Stan's ankle to catch his attention. "Hey. Your cut." He flipped a ring in the air.

Stan caught it and inspected the symbol on its surface. "Is that the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel?"

"You gave your protégé your fez, I thought you might want a replacement! I know how proud you are of your lodge membership, Fisherman."

Stan admiringly studied the ring and its open-mouthed crescent fish; then the corners of his mouth turned down. "Ahhh, it wasn't my membership." He stuffed the ring in his pocket.

"No? I got one with the Fishmasons symbol if you'd like that better." Bill spun the oversized ring on one finger. It slipped off and he fumbled trying to catch it.

In the smoothest move he'd pulled all summer, Dipper caught the ring before it hit the floor. He ignored Bill's outstretched hand and inspected the complicated tool-lined diamond symbol. "Fishmasons? I thought they were called..."

"Yeah, you would," Bill scoffed. "Do you believe everything you read in The Paranoia Code? You know novels are usually fictional, right?"

"But don't masons work with stone? How does a 'fish mason' make sense?"

"If everyone knew what it meant, it wouldn't be a secret society, would it?"

Dipper gave up on prying anything more than snark out of Bill and turned toward Stan. "The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel is associated with the Fishmasons, right?"

"Yeah," Stan said, "they're uh, sister organizations or something, I think. It's complicated."

"It's a spin-off organization," Bill said. "All Mackerels are Fishers. Once you've reached the top rank in the Fishers, you're eligible to join the Holy Mackerel."

"Yeah. What he said."

Dipper nodded. "Sooo... is it true that the Fishmasons are secretly... working with the government, or...? I mean, yeah, I read it in a book. But they've had a lot of real historical figures."

Stan snorted dismissively. "If they are, they didn't invite me to those meetings."

"Well sure. The lodge that decides politics is in D.C.," Bill lied. Dipper's head whipped around to stare at him. Ha. When they got home, Bill would have to spend some time deciding which would be the stupidest conspiracy theory rabbit holes to send Dipper down. If he played his cards right, by Thanksgiving he could have the kid spouting rubbish that would alienate half his extended family.

"Would you stop staring at me like that?" He shoved the side of Dipper's face; and, while he was distracted, grabbed back the Fisher ring to inspect its symbol. Kryptos's face. Far better drawn than Bill could do. And the thin little layer of gold atop the ring should be enough to enhance Bill's psychic signal. Maybe that would be enough to get a call through to the Nightmare Realm.

He tucked the ring in his shoe and turned to Stan. "Anyway, if you think that was good, you should see what I can do in a real jewelry store. What do you say?"

"I dunno. Jewelry shops are tricky, they're always on the lookout for shoplifters."

"They never catch teams and we've got two rambunctious kids to split their attention. I'll do the distracting, you do the lifting. When's the last time you had a gold watch that isn't cursed?"

"Nope!" Mabel, who'd been trailing behind the group with her arms crossed, finally shoved her way between Stan and Bill. "That's enough! We came here for a good time, not a crime time!"

"We came here to go shopping," Stan protested. "We're shopping!"

"Yeah, we're just getting the best discount possible."

"It's like advanced couponing."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"No!" Mabel stood in front of them, arms and feet spread wide like a barrier. "Grunkle Stan, you should know better. You're letting—" she dropped her voice to an emphatic whisper, "Bill talk you into doing bad stuff. The whole reason you came along was to make sure he can't do that!"

Stan snapped, "Oh, like you didn't just make us stand around for an hour while you played dress up with him! Why's it okay when you play with the demon, but nobody else can make him useful?"

Mabel winced. "No, that's not... I mean..."

If this conversation went the wrong way, Stan and Mabel might both talk each other out of doing anything interesting with Bill. He'd better defuse this situation quick. "Hey, c'mon, Stanley, that's your niece. Don't be so hard on her."

There was a flicker of irritation on Stan's face directed at Bill, followed by a flicker of guilt toward Mabel, followed by him grunting and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

That was one threat neutralized. Bill turned his grin on Mabel. "Sorry for monopolizing the trip, kid. We'll make it up to you! Fordsy got you that cute crystal bracelet, didn't he—wanna graduate to some real gemstones?"

"Hey, yeah," Stan said, immediately perking up. "You like jewelry! I can get you something with hearts or kittens. Way better than a bunch of boring rocks." Bill mentally patted himself on the back. Oh, he was so good at this. Good old sibling rivalry. Families were so easy to manipulate.

Mabel slapped her hand over the rainbow crystal bracelet mixed amidst her other bracelets. "I don't want you to get me real jewelry!" she shouted; but Stan had already set out on his new mission, with Bill trotting along just behind him. "Not if you have to steal it!"

"Relax!" Bill waved without turning around. "We're a couple of pros, you've got nothing to worry about." He elbowed Stan before he could absorb Mabel's protests. "Don't worry, once she's older she'll appreciate what a financial investment fine jewelry is. Never too early to buy a little gold. Or—well—acquire gold."

"Yeah," Stan said, "who knows when the next apocalypse is gonna be."

"Could be any day now," Bill lied.

"The only bracelet I want is this one!" Mabel waved her arm in the air, pointing at the shooting star friendship bracelet Bill had made. But Stan and Bill were too far away to care about her protests now.

Mabel's shoulders slumped. She glowered at the friendship bracelet. It didn't seem as friendly as it did when Bill gave it to her. "This whole trip was a mistake, wasn't it."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't say it."

"You don't have to." Mabel sighed heavily. "I don't know what got into me. B—Goldie's been so nice lately, I thought he was making progress! But he's been nothing but a creep today. Guess the niceness was all an act."

"He can act nice for a long time. It took Grunkle Ford almost three years to figure out how evil he is." When Dipper concluded that this hadn't had the comforting effect he'd intended, he asked, "Do you wanna tip off security about the jewelry heist?"

Mabel sighed again. "No, I don't want Grunkle Stan to get in trouble. And if Goldie's arrested he might spill the beans to mall security. Let's just wait outside by the car."

"Yeah, all right," Dipper said. "If they don't come out in twenty minutes, we'll call Ford."

Headed the other way across the mall, Bill said, "So, a watch for you, a necklace or something for the kid, and for me... they probably don't have crowns here, so—"

"Whoa, hey, I don't remember offering to get you anything," Stan said. "I already got you fancy shoes and a bunch of clothes. We're square."

"We're no such thing. Besides, why should I help you if I'm not getting anything?" Bill asked. "Maybe earrings? Gimme a nail when we get home and I can pierce my own ears—"

His arm was wrenched backwards and he fell on his back.

Thirty feet away, Mabel yelped as she was yanked back and landed on her butt.

Bill and Mabel turned around and stared at each other.

Bill said, "Right! Forgot about that. Just—get over here."

"No!" Mabel shouted. "You get over here!"

Bill scowled. "Come on, kid. Your great-uncle and I are trying to do something here. If you don't want to come along, at least let Stanley have the other half of the bracelet—"

"I said NO!" Mabel planted her feet wide apart and tugged her wrist back as far as it could go. "You used me! You were only nice so you could go outside and I fell for it! As soon as you got what you wanted, you started acting like a huge poop face again!"

"Wow, language—"

"I'm not helping you anymore!"

Bill could feel his face heating up. "Kid, don't be ridiculous! You can't stand there forever! You're being..." selfish, irrational, petty—what word would get him what he wanted?

The pedestrian chatter over the inoffensive mall music had fallen silent. The feeling of being watched crawled over his back. (He seemed to discover another unpleasant new human bodily sensation every day.) Oh. Witnesses. There was no way the stranger in a shouting match with a little girl was coming out of this looking cool.

He could still save face if he got her uncle to do Bill's arguing for him. He turned hopefully to his new shoplifting buddy. "C'mon, she's—she's being unreasonable, right? We're talking about one watch, here."

And Bill had lost him. Stan's expression hardened. He crossed his arms and Bill flinched at the movement. "If a stupid watch is gonna upset Mabel that much..."

Families were so difficult to manipulate! Why did they have to gang up on him, it wasn't fair. He shot a furious glower at Mabel.

And then laughed, loudly enough for the rubberneckers to hear. "Okay, okay! You win. Sheesh, you look so serious. Peace talks in front of the Kidz Zone?"

Sternly, Mabel said, "Okay, but you do not get to ride the little coin-operated train."

"I wasn't gonna ask!" Bill paused. "Or the—?"

"Or the helicopter!"

Dipper called, "You haven't earned it, man."

"Fine," Bill snapped, "I didn't want to ride it." Swallow your disappointment, Cipher. Just play it cool.

When they'd rendezvoused, Bill said, "Okay, I might have gone a little overboard. Big deal. But we've been here all afternoon, we haven't eaten, I'm sure that's why everyone's so testy. Let's just swing by the food court and then get out of here."

Mabel frowned. "You're just trying to get us to stay."

"Yes. I am. So that we can eat before we go." If he ended this on a win, even a small win, that would be what everyone took away and he could call this trip progress. "Funny thing about human bodies is they need to be fed a couple times a day. Maybe you've noticed."

Dipper frowned. "Dude, you're only eating twice a day?"

"I don't question your diet, get off my back. What do you think, Stanley, feed the kids before we go?" Bill might've lost Mabel, but he had a shot at securing Stan. He could work on Mabel again once they were home. "You wanna drive home a couple of cranky teens, or a couple of cranky and hungry teens?"

Dipper snapped, "We're only cranky because of—!"

"Nah, he's right," Stan said wearily. "I'm starving. We'll grab something quick to eat."

Bill immediately perked up; but Mabel's frown deepened.

####

"I want chicken strips," Dipper said. 

Mabel said, "I'm getting pizza."

Bill said, "I want—"

"I don't care what you want," Stan said. "I'm getting a burger and you're getting the fries."

"Oh, so you want to find out what I'm like when I'm the cranky and hungry one?"

Stan grunted. "Fine. Your budget's five dollars. I really do only have a twenty."

"Fine." Bill drifted over to Mabel, who'd gotten in line in front of the food court's pizza booth. "Hey, Shooting Star—"

"Leave me alone, jerk."

"Whoa, am I not allowed to get a slice of pizza?"

Mabel didn't respond. She was glaring through the glass display window at the available pizza flavors as she waited for her turn to order. Apparently Bill interpreted that as permission to stay and look over the flavors himself. 

Standing so close to Bill Cipher when Mabel didn't want him there was like having a monster breathing down her neck. She hadn't realized how hover-y he could get until it stopped being fun. She remembered something like this from Ford's lesson on cults and con artists, how they try to get into your head by talking and talking and not giving you any time and space to breathe.

She could feel Bill's heavy gaze on the side of her face. Dipper and Stan were at the next restaurant over, but Bill stood between her and them. The chain bracelet on her wrist felt like a handcuff. She wanted to rip it off and be free of him. She wanted to go home.

"I've never had American pizza before," Bill said. "What do you think, cheese or Hawaiian?"

Mabel screwed up her face. "Ew, the one with pineapple?"

Bill's grin twitched wider. "Is that a vote for cheese, then?"

Gross, he was trying to get her to talk again. She glared at the pizza more determinedly. "Get what you want, I don't care."

Bill sighed. "Fine. You're no fun." He looked over the pizzas—standing too close—for one brief moment of heavy silence; and then, pointing between the cheese and Hawaiian, murmured to himself, "Eenie, meenie, miney..."

Mabel's whole body went stiff.

####

She felt the oppressive oven-like heat of Bill's dark floating pyramid, a too-euclidean temple built without the comfort of humans in mind, so hot that touching the walls burned your skin; and she felt a sticky sweat running down her back. She felt the constant electrical static of Bill's glowing shadowy grip around her waist. Every time she shifted and struggled, her sweater crackled and stung her. Bill's hand felt like nothing, absolutely nothing, and it was crushing and inescapable.

She could hear his voice, that forced jollity pushing to the verge of exhausted hysteria, saying, "I think I'm gonna kill one of them now just for the heck of it!"

She could see his eye like a blood red spotlight, eye like an incinerating laser, the light swallowing her and Dipper; she heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears; she saw the symbol that represented her flashing in Bill's eye, and even before he stopped she knew it would be her. 

"EENIE... MEENIE... MINEY..."

She saw his hand tremble with rage as he prepared to snap her out of existence.

"YOU!"

####

"Hey, you." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "What are you getting? Maybe we can split two slic—"

There was a wild look in Mabel's eyes.

The moment she seized his upper arm, he knew he was ending up on the floor and it was going to hurt.

She spun her back to him, jerked him against her, and flipped him over her shoulders. It was bizarrely relaxing, that second spent floating upside-down in the air. Familiar, comforting.

And then he slammed back first on the tile floor. And it hurt.

He stared wheezing at the faraway lights until his internal organs remembered how to lung. The world was too bright; he'd lost his sunglasses. He sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. It had cracked open, he was leaking internal organs—no. That was his hair. His head was fine.

Dizzily, he asked, "What was that for?" He shook his head to clear it. "Hey. Hey! What the heck was that for!" He grabbed the counter and got to his feet, and almost slipped back down on his first attempt. "I've been a little obnoxious but what'd I do to deserve a surprise attack out of nowhere? What, were you just waiting for a chance to get the jump on me—"

And then he saw the look on Mabel's face—the absolute unadulterated terror—in the split second before she gave a little flinch of realization and the guilt kicked in.

Baffled, he looked past her and the confused nearby mall-goers to Stan and Dipper—who thankfully didn't look angry, but they also didn't look as confused as Bill felt. They had tight-lipped white-faced looks like they understood what they'd just seen perfectly.

"What," Bill said. "What'd I do? Was it something I said?" He racked his brain. He did something that scared the dickens out of them—because all of them were giving him that look—it was three against one, something must have happened that he didn't pick up on. Something that made humans nervous that wasn't important enough for someone like him to recall?

He didn't know what.

That was it. He lost. All his work was undone, they were afraid of him again, they saw him as a threat and they'd lock him back up in the shack. There went any chance of ever seeing the outside world before his execution. There went his hopes of befriending the more pliable humans, or winning Ford back over. There went his conversations with Mabel. And he didn't even know what he did wrong.

If he killed Mabel and cut the bracelet cord, was he fast enough to escape before Stan and Dipper could react? If he lunged over the counter, could he get the pizza cutter and slit Mabel's throat before she flipped him again?

He saw a flickering glimpse of his uncoordinated scramble in the futures where he tried; the scene quickly fizzled out as he concluded it wouldn't work.

"Sorry," Mabel said. "Instinct. You know how martial arts are! You get it trained into your muscle memory, and... and... I... didn't mean to do that, that was my bad."

No less confused, Bill said, "Yeah, no, sure, it's—it's fine." He couldn't afford for it not to be "fine"; he didn't know what the other options were. "I know I cut an intimidating figure." He laughed weakly.

He couldn't apologize even if he wanted to. He didn't know what he was supposed to be apologizing for. He was still watching Mabel's face and Dipper's and Stan's for any context clues to explain what just happened.

And Mabel said, voice small and shaking, "You... don't wanna hurt us again, right?"

Bill blinked slowly at her.

It was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

She had to know that. Everyone watching had to know that. Bill had been plotting how to hurt them again not fifteen seconds ago. He had every reason to want to hurt them—his very survival depended on finding a way to hurt them—and anyway, regardless of his intentions, obviously if he was asked he'd say "no," wouldn't he! As if he could admit to his captors that he did want to hurt them! It was such a breathtakingly stupid question that he could laugh.

He didn't laugh. He didn't point out how dumb she was for asking, or what a waste of time the question was, or remind her that they both knew there was only one answer. He didn't want to show off how effortlessly he could talk circles around humans; he didn't care about making her feel stupid.

He only wanted Mabel to stop looking at him like he terrified her.

So he said, "No. Of course I don't want to hurt you." He nodded toward Stan and Dipper, "No promises about these guys, they've been making fun of our fashion sense all afternoon, but... not you." He held up one hand, showing Mabel the friendship bracelet she'd given him with the evil eye beads. "You gave me a new job, remember?"

He'd hoped the jokey half-threat might help lighten the mood, maybe get her to smile; but she just nodded. "Okay."

Okay.

Stan shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Welp. I lost my appetite. We're going home."

####

Bill didn't care about Stan and Dipper glaring at his back as they trudged toward the exit, but Mabel walking so quietly beside him was sandpapering at his nerves. If he were back home and she were one of his usual pack of friends, he could just order her to perk up or else get out of his sight until she did—but that wouldn't work here, where he was currently not all powerful, he didn't have supreme control over everybody in the vicinity, and they did have to share a ride home. If he tried to get all imperious on her, she'd never speak to him again and Stan would probably break his skull.

What could he do to make her less nervous?

"Hey." He held out his hand to her. She gave it a quizzical look, then looked up at Bill. He said, "Can't hurt you if I can't use my hand, right? Unless you expect me to start biting."

Mabel said, "This isn't, like... a deal, is it—?"

"No! What? There's no deal, where would there be a deal?" Irritably, Bill said, "I'm just trying to help, if you don't think it's helpful then fine, whatever—"

Mabel took his hand. He shut up.

She flinched in surprise and pulled her hand back, holding the ring with the Fishmasons symbol. "I don't w..."

"I know you don't. Listen—we're all going to jail if we go back to 18th Century to return anything, but... I mean, we pass the ring kiosk on the way out, so..." Was that enough? Would that do anything?

She pushed it back into his hand. "You return it."

Irritation flared up his throat; he swallowed it down. "No problem." She was probably worried he was trying to set her up.

As they walked past the kiosk, he steered around to the side opposite the teen manning it; ran one hand over the rows of rings like he was idly inspecting the designs as he passed; and with a subtle movement, slid the stolen ring back amongst the others without pausing. He showed Mabel his empty hand to prove he'd done the deed.

As they moved passed the kiosk, she took his hand again. He squeezed hers back.

He'd find another way to get a message out to Kryptos. That dumb cheap ring probably wouldn't have worked anyway.

Dipper muttered, "You're still a threat if you have one hand free." He took Bill's other hand. They simultaneously shuddered. Never mind the being-watched feeling Bill had earlier, this was what the phrase "skin crawling" truly meant.

But Mabel immediately perked up. "Thanks, Dipper."

Oh! Sure! Thank him. Bill shot Dipper a dirty look and tightened his grip. (It wasn't even tight enough to hurt.) "I forgot how sweaty your palms are."

"Shut up."

Behind them, Stan grumbled, "I'm just glad you only have two hands."

"Hey!" Bill twisted around to give Stan an exasperated look. "Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now? This is torture. I can feel every fingerprint on these two. How come you're the only one who doesn't have to suffer."

Mabel laughed weakly. "Because Grunkle Stan never tried to end the world."

"Neither did I." He sighed exaggeratedly. "But fine—I'll take my punishment like an adult."

He'd gotten a laugh out of Mabel. That was good enough for now.

####

As soon as the car pulled around to the house side of the shack, before they'd even come to a stop, Bill unfastened his seat belt, shouldered open the door, and tumbled out into the sunlight and dirt. A couple of stolen shirts fluttered free.

"Hey!" Stan rolled down his window. "Get back—! How'd you get that door open?!"

"I never closed it!" Bill was already doing cartwheels across the grass, turned like a sunflower to catch the early evening sunbeams filtering through the trees. "I just pulled it close to the car."

"It was ajar the whole drive?!"

"A jar of what?" Bill's cartwheels were already better than the ones he'd tried earlier that day.

Mabel winced. "Sorry, Grunkle Stan, I should have checked..."

"It's not her fault!" Like heck was Bill letting Mabel get in trouble over one little door. "I'm an out-of-control agent of chaos! I'd ride home sitting on the roof if this body had the friction to stay put."

Stan snapped, "Next time, that's where I'm putting you!"

While Stan parked properly and everyone else got out, Bill got tired of cavorting and trudged up to the shack. He kicked his shiny new shoe against the wall as he waited for the Pines to let him inside.

"Glad that's over," Stan sighed. "I'm never going shopping with you again."

Yeah, sure he wasn't. Bill could work on him. Stan would want a new watch eventually.

"And I'm still starving," Stan said.

"Pizza," Bill said. Dipper and Mabel perked up like a couple of dogs that had just heard their owner say walk.

"Ehh..."

"Hawaiian," Bill added.

Stan looked considering. "I do appreciate pineapple's laid-back, tropical attitude." Dipper and Mabel groaned in disappointment.

Bill proposed, "Two pizzas."

The Pines and Bill went inside, and the door swung shut behind them.

None of the humans noticed the minuscule break Bill had kicked in the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

####

(Thanks for reading, y'all! I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter, so if you've got any comments or thoughts, I'd love to hear them!)

[libraryofloveletters]

A Visit To Santa

Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Warnings: jobe is being treated like a kid, pranks from you and jude, miss denise gets new photos for her house, childhood coded lol, jobe is like your little brother too, miss denise thinks y'all finna crash her bmw lmao

Word Count: 768

Author's Note: this one is for bookie @themandaloriansdiaries - our favourite brothers :)

--

Jude decides now that you two are back home in England to take his brother to do the one thing they always did as kids; visit Santa.

England welcomed you two home, a change from the Spanish sunshine was welcomed; though you missed it the moment you got off of the plane.

You and Jude were spending the holidays with his family, both Bellingham brothers, you and their parents were at home. Mark and Denise were making dinner or something of the sorts in the kitchen, Jobe was in his bedroom and you and Jude were in his room.

Jude's head rested on your belly, your fingers tapping on his forehead as you scrolled through your phone with the other hand.

"I'm bored," your boyfriend announces.

"Congratulations," you tell him, as if you were supposed to do something about that.

Jude rolls his eyes, "let's go do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," he sighs, sitting up. You look over at him, "how about shopping? Or we could go for a drive or something?"

"The shopping mall?" he asked, looking over your shoulder. There's a look on his face that you've seen before, pure mischief. Your brows raise, waiting for him to continue. "Yeah, let's go."

"What're you up to?" You asked him, Jude pulls you off of the bed.

"I'll go grab Jobe."

You stop your boyfriend, grabbing his hand. "What is this? What's all this excitement? You hate the mall."

His eyes crinkle as he chuckles, "let's take Jobe to see Santa."

You can't help the laugh, letting go of his hand. "Okay babe. Go get him, I'll get the car keys from your mom."

Jude and Jobe meet you downstairs, Denise hands you her car keys. "Be careful please," she warns her sons, not you. She knew you'd handle them.

"We'll be back for dinner," Jude tells his mom, kissing her cheek before grabbing your hand.

You shout a bye to her and Mark as you three are out the front door and pile into the car. You drove of course, Jude doesn't drive and Jobe was a designated back seat driver. Jude had told his brother that you wanted to go shopping and he agreed to join you, saying he could use some fresh air.

The mall was a madhouse, it was T-minus 2 days to Christmas and everyone was rushing to get last minute shopping done.

You made a B-line for Santa's workshop in the mall, making it seem like you wanted to take a couple's photo of you and Jude with Santa.

Jobe shakes his head, "this is ridiculous," he tells you, waiting in line with you two.

"Do you not believe in the magic of Christmas, Jojo?" You teased him, pinching his cheek gently; you looked at Jobe like your little brother as well, teasing him the same way his brother would, having your own little nickname for him.

Jude smiles, watching as Jobe swats your hand away, making you laugh.

It takes a few minutes to get to the front of the line, the woman dressed as an elf calling you up to take your photo.

Jobe feels a light shove, Jude pushing him to Santa. "What?" he asked his brother, looking a bit lost.

"Go take your pic, mate."

"What?" Jobe scoffed, "I'm not going."

You take his coat from him, "go on, Jojo. Santa's waiting." You tell him, lips pressed together so you don't laugh. Jobe grumbles under his breath, something about hating you guys as he begrudgingly walks over to Santa.

The younger Bellingham sits beside Santa, the fakest smile you've ever seen on his face as the camera flashes.

Jude takes your hand, bringing you over to Santa. The two of you joined in. Jobe and Jude on either side of Santa and somehow you ended up on Santa's lap.

"On three, say merry Christmas!" The woman behind the camera says, counting to three before it flashes.

You let Santa speak to Jude and Jobe while you went to the counter to get the printed photos. You got two prints of the photo with the 3 of you, one for your home in Madrid and one for their home here in England. You also got a printed version of the solo shot with Jobe and Santa for the fridge at home.

The boys met you by the counter, Jude handing out his card so you can pay. "I can't believe you made me do that," Jobe mumbled, huffing.

You laugh, kissing his cheek. "It's okay, buddy."

Jude holds your hand, the bag with the photos in hand. "You're still a kid to us, mate." He laughs, pulling you into his side. "Let's go before we get in trouble for being late to dinner.

[tkwrites]

He's Got It Bad - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif by 40ep

Title: He’s got it bad

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Warnings: Swearing, lots of teasing & chirping, mild spoilers if you've never seen the original Jurassic Park.

Summary: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Word Count: 2,600

Comments: I’m sorry this one took me so long, Daisy! I started it two or three months ago, but couldn’t find the right way to finish it. And then earlier this week, as I was falling asleep, it just snapped into place. I hope you enjoy it! 

As before, the research described here is dubious at best, so please take it with a big grain of salt.

If you did enjoy this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

dasiysthings asked: If you’re taking requests/suggestions for Quinn and Sarah au doing a Sarah meeting the team for the first time has been on my mind lately. What would they think of her? Sure Quinn’s mentioned her and they saw sarah in the stands her first game but maybe she attends a team function like birthday party or team family meal. Something low key and not public maybe? Also how much do they tease Quinn after?🫣🤭

He’s got it bad

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Are you free on Thursday?” 

It was a rare night off, and he’d requested they order food and watch a movie. Currently, they were lounging in a giant bean bag in the gaming room. Quinn was partially on top of Sarah, his head resting on her chest as the first Jurassic Park played on the large screen.

“I think so. Why?”

“Garly’s having a party that night for his birthday. I hoped you might want to come with me.” 

“Who?”

“Garly,” he repeated before correcting himself, “Conor. Garland. From the team.”

Quinn had mentioned Conor before, and she knew he was one of the trio of guys he was really close to.  

“Sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “Who will be there?”

“Most of the guys and their partners if they have them.”

“Is it going to be wild?” she asked, winding one of his curls around her finger. She needed to prepare herself if it was going to be a night full of drinking. 

“Nah, Conor’s pretty chill, and we have a game the next day.”

“Okay,” she agreed again, splaying her fingers through his dark waves, letting them slip and slide over her skin. For someone who washed it so often, he had remarkably soft hair. 

 Nuzzling into her chest a little more, he sighed. He loved when she played with his hair.

Sarah jumped when the Dilophosaurus appeared on screen, tilting its head at Nedry. 

Quinn laughed. She hadn’t even flinched when the T-Rex had tried to attack the kids through one of the park cars. “You okay?”

“I hate this one,” she said, turning her head to the side. 

He glanced at the TV in time to see the dinosaur hiss and pop its frill. “You hate this more than the T-Rex?” 

“At least the T-Rex is just a big predator. This one stalks and tortures first, and I hate it,” she said, face still turned away. 

“But Nedry deserved it.” 

“Maybe so, but I still don’t like to think about it.” 

He chuckled.

Only after the yells faded away did she turn back to the movie and continue tracing her fingers through his hair. 

By the time Thursday came around, Quinn realized just how nervous Sarah was. She texted him about the dress code three hours before he was supposed to pick her up.

It’s a party, he’d written back, unsure of what she meant. 

Yeah, but is it like a heels and cocktails party? Or a backyard barbecue party?

Well, it’s been raining all week, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be indoors.

Don’t be a smartass. 

Just casual. Food and drinks. 

She’d called him then, and he’d answered, confused. “Hey?” 

“I just…” she began, “this is the first time I’m meeting most of your teammates and their girlfriends and I don’t want to be the only one in jeans when everyone else is in dresses. I want to make a good impression.” 

“You’ll make a good impression no matter what you’re wearing.”

A breath blew out of her nose, whistling by the phone speaker, “you don’t get it.” 

“Don’t I?” 

“Quinn, you wear the same thing all the time.” 

“First of all, I do not.”

He continued before she could get out her retort that Brady could back her up on this fact. “And secondly, everything I’ve seen you wear would be fine for this. You always look nice.”

And he meant it. Even in her aquarium uniform, which consisted of a blue t-shirt or polo with the aquarium logo and whatever pants she happened to be wearing that day, she always looked put together.

She made some noise in her throat like she thought he was telling tales. 

“Look, you might get some looks if you showed up in a trash bag or something.” 

Laughter barked out of her mouth. “Why would I ever wear a trash bag?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying that barring an unhinged trash bag outfit, you’ll be fine. People are just excited to meet you.” 

“You told them I’m coming?” she asked, feeling sudden nerves attack her stomach. 

“Yeah. Conor suggested I invite you. The guys want to meet you.” Plus, ever since she'd met Brady, he'd wanted her to meet everyone in his life.

“Oh,” she said quietly. 

“Just wear what you feel comfortable in, and I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sarah said, feeling even more anxious than before she’d called him.

She couldn’t even wear her go-to outfit for when she was nervous. St. Patricks day was the next weekend, and she’d asked Quinn to come to her uncles and needed the green dress for that. Plus, it was freezing and sleety outside. A dress was not the way to go. 

Jane walked by, and Sarah called her in. 

“What happened here?” Jane asked, taking in the clothing spread all over Sarah’s usually tidy room, and Sarah herself standing in her underwear. 

The only thing she could decide on was the blue bra, which always made her feel confident and sexy. She’d paired it with a matching pair of underwear.

“I’m going to a party with some of Quinn’s teammates tonight,” she said. 

Janes eyes widened with what Sarah thought was the appropriate amount of concern. 

“So I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The dress is out,” she said, gesturing to where it was hanging in the closet. 

Jane bit her lip, surveying the chaos. “My vote is for those boyfriend jeans that make your thighs look killer,” she said. 

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have someone express a definitive opinion. She’d put those same jeans on earlier but stripped them right back off, worried all the other women would be in fancier dress. “You don’t think they’ll be too casual?” 

“What kind of a party is it?” 

“Birthday.”

Jane looked her over, “you’ll be fine. Killer jeans, nice top. Quinn won’t know what hit him.” 

She pulled the jeans on, hopping as she tugged them over her hips, “thanks. I’m just so nervous.” 

Jane sat on her bed and began putting shirts back on their discarded hangers, “I don’t think you need to be.” 

“No?”

She shook her head, “from the way he was looking at you when he stayed for dinner that night you guys made up, I’m not sure anything could put him off you.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. 

“Anyway,” Jane said, pulling a purple blouse out from underneath her, “I think you should wear this. It looks good with your eyes.”

“Thanks, Jane,” she said, gathering the other woman into a hug, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Sarah was already in the lobby when Quinn pulled up to her building. She wore medium wash jeans a dark raincoat. He appreciated that she was wearing flat boots instead of some fussy heel. She threw the hood up to block the rain before running out to his car. 

When they got to the house, he opened the door without knocking before leading her inside. There was a coat rack already brimming with wet jackets, and Sarah stripped hers off to hang up with the others. 

Quinn stopped in his tracks halfway through unzipping his own jacket. 

He thought he’d seen all of Sarah’s clothes. Which was a stupid notion now that he thought about it — they hadn’t been dating for that long — but she tended to wear a kind of uniform.

Today, though, her jeans fit her like a glove — clinging to the curves of her thighs and hips. He was certain she’d never worn them before. He would have remembered. Seeing her in them now, he wished she’d given him some kind of warning.

When he didn’t follow her, Sarah turned, which was worse. The purple blouse she wore skimmed over her breasts and had a pattern embroidered around the collar. The color somehow made her eyes brighter and lips more pink. He had no idea that could happen.

He felt like he needed to catch his breath as a surge of attraction reared in his stomach.

Not only were the guys going to tease him mercilessly for being with someone new, he was going to have to watch her in those jeans all night. The mental exertion it was going to take to not pop a boner was already making him tired. 

Before his mind could truly go to war about the pros and cons of just turning to go back to his place, Conor called out, “Huggy? Is that you?” 

Too late to turn back now. “Yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off Sarah. 

“Huggy?” she repeated.

“It’s a long story.”

The thrill of touching her reared to life again as he took her hand to guide her into the house. He made his mind focus on math equations for the walk into the kitchen and hoped it would be enough. 

“Hey!” Conor greeted, immediately grasping Quinn in a hug when they walked into the kitchen.  “You must be the elusive Sarah Huggy won’t stop telling us about,” he said as they broke apart.

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah joked as they shook hands.

“Well, he certainly didn’t lie about how pretty your eyes are,” a woman said, coming up to stand next to Conor, running her hand along his forearm before entwining their fingers.

The color that pinked her cheeks made Quinn’s knees want to buckle. God, he was in deep.

The strange thing was that he wasn’t scared about it. That had to mean something good.

“I’m Meghan, and this is Conor,” she said with a bright, friendly smile. 

More introductions were made, and Sarah tried to keep track of everyone, but there were at least 40 people there, and she felt instantly overwhelmed. She should have known. She knew how many people were on a hockey team, but it was still a little shocking to meet everyone all at once. 

They were absorbed into one of the small groups of people, and Sarah sipped from her seltzer only to find it was lemon flavored, not pineapple like she'd expected. She frowned at the can. 

“Do you want something different?” Quinn asked, noticing the disappointed look on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conor and JT glance at each other. 

“No, it’s okay. I was just expecting pineapple, so the lemon was a bit of a shock.”

“There’s pineapple in there,” Meghan said, gesturing with her own can. 

“I’ll get you one,” he said, turning to the fridge. 

She caught his arm and he turned back, “it’s fine, Quinn. This one’s already open. It’s not a big deal. Most seltzer tastes the same anyway.” 

“I’m glad someone can finally admit that,” Brock said, lifting his beer to his lips.

His pretty blonde girlfriend smacked him on the arm, “just because you can’t tell the difference doesn’t mean no one else can.”

Sarah smiled at them. They were cute together - like a model midwestern couple. 

“So, Sarah,” JT said, pulling her focus, “Quinn tells us you work at the aquarium.” 

She went through her usual explanation of her schooling and research.

“Tell them about Tuesday,” Quinn prompted. 

Everyone in the group looked between them expectantly. JT and Conor shared another glance. 

“What happened Tuesday?” Natalie asked, taking the bait right away. 

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of experiments with Walter to see if he can taste my mood.”

“What?” 

“Octopus have tastebuds and nerve endings in every suction cup that far surpass our own, so I’ve been wondering if he can taste the hormones on my skin. Anyway, I sprayed some Cortisol, which is the hormone that releases when you’re stressed, on my hands to see how he’d react, and he went from seemingly happy to see me to very subdued almost immediately.” 

“Whoa,” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes brightening. “It was really amazing. With some more experiments, I think I could probably use this as the basis research for my thesis.” 

“Exactly how did this guy convince you to date him?” JT asked, pointing at Quinn.

Natalie smacked his arm. 

“No, I’m serious. You’re really smart. You know Huggy didn’t even finish college, right?” 

What the hell was this nickname? 

“I did finish college,” Quinn interrupted, “I graduated last year.” 

“Whatever,” JT said with a dismissive hand as if that detail didn’t matter. “Does he have you under some sort of mind control?” 

Sarah laughed out loud, and Quinn’s eyes darted to her, catching her wide open smile. 

“Cause she couldn’t just like me,” he defended, sarcastically

“A girl like this? This pretty and this smart?” JT asked, “it’s hard to believe, Huggy.” 

Even though she could see the glint of humor in his eyes and knew he was only teasing, Sarah still stepped in, “Nope. No mind control.” She emphasized the statement by reaching for his hand, “You know as well, probably better than I do that Quinn has really great qualities. He's a really good guy.” 

JT leaned back on the counter, a jokingly suspicious look still on his face as he glanced between them. 

Quinn could feel himself blushing. He didn’t mean for Sarah to come to his defense like that. He didn’t mean to put her in that position. All the same, he was a little glad for it. JT had a way of teasing a persons insecurities right out of them, and to know Sarah didn’t feel the same way eased something in him. 

“Our daughter loves the aquarium,” Natalie cut in fluidly as if she was used to smoothing over her husbands’ aggressive teasing.

“Let me know the next time you come by,” Sarah said without missing a beat, “I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“Oh, she’d love that. We’ll have to get a group of us together.” 

JT gave her a genuine smile, and Sarah let a little breath go in her chest. 

At the next mornings practice, Quinn ran through drills and exercises, ears pricked for the inevitable teasing he knew would be coming his way. 

To his surprise, it didn’t come until the end, after he’d showered and was dressing in his stall.

“Dude, you've got it bad,” Joshua teased as he walked by, “I’ve never seen you look at someone like that,” he said, adopting a sappy, lovestruck expression. 

“I don’t know if you can top the way he was about to chuck that can of seltzer away from her because she didn’t like it,” JT said.

“Right?” Conor agreed, laughing, “‘Do you want something different? Let me get you a new can.’” He mimed rushing around searching. 

“Don’t forget the first time he told us about her,” Brock cut in, “he was like fucking Aladdin, ‘she’s got these eyes.’” 

Joining in the laughter, Quinn tossed his towel in their direction. 

Conor caught it easily. “Our little Huggy’s in love,” he teased, elongating the last word into several syllables. 

“Guys,” he said, leveling them with a look he hoped would shut the conversation down. “We’ve only known each other 9 weeks.��� 

“So you’ve been keeping track,” Brock surmised, glancing around with a knowing expression. 

Guess he may as well get comfortable in this hole he dug for himself.

He’d dished out this same chirping when Brock had brought Bella around for the first time and knew it was best to just let it lie, and eventually, it would become old news. 

When he didn’t deny it, the boys around him all whooped and hollered enough that everyone else in the room looked over.

“Seriously though,” JT went on, “I have no idea how you landed her, but she’s a great girl."

"And,” he continued with a smirk, “if you ever get bored of her, I'm sure Kuzy’ll take her off your hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at her all night.” 

Quinn glared, more offended at the insinuation he would get bored of Sarah. 

JT laughed, raucous and loud, “Oh, he’s got it bad, alright.”

He couldn’t stop the flush that rushed into his cheeks. 

“Don't worry, Huggy. No one's gonna steal your girl.” 

Shaking his head, Quinn shoved his sneakers on.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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[boldlyvoid]

Yours, mine & ours | Part 1: meeting matthew

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington | Single Dads fic

Summary: Eddie has a 6-year-old brother in need of a new legal guardian

Warnings: set in 1993, Eddie was never a part of the upside-down shenanigans, foster care, child neglect, death of a parent, Al Munson is a monster, Wayne Munson is the loveliest man on earth

Word count: 4.7k

Masterlist

When he got the call from Child Protective Services, his first thought was: “Do they have the right Eddie Munson?” His second thought was: “of course, my dad would have another one of his offspring taken away.” 

“So, will you take him? Or should we set him up with one of our emergency families until we can find a permanent foster placement for him?” The woman asked, as kindhearted as possible. 

“Uh… yeah? Do you have to like vet me or check out my place?” He asks, worried he won’t have enough time to make his trailer look presentable. He’s only had it a few months now, just a few spaces down from his uncle Wayne, but that didn’t stop the ‘Eddie tornado’ from wreaking havoc on the space in such a short time frame. 

“A small one. I’ll bring Matthew with his things and I’ll take a look around, make sure it’s up to code,” she explains. “I know you were also taken in by a family member when you were a kid, so I’m sure you know what it’s like. He’s had a very rough day and I would like to have him settled with someone he can trust tonight.” 

“Yeah, yeah I remember… How old is he?” He asks, unsure if she’s said it already or not. His mind was in a bit of a fog, this was all a little surreal. He was 27, how the heck did his dad have another kid? What did he get out of jail? What did he do this time? His mind is absolutely racing. 

“6,” she says and he can tell she’s frowning about it. “I don’t think he’s ever been to school…”

“I missed a lot when I was with Al, too,” he shares. “I’ll get him enrolled. 6 is what? Kindergarten?” 

“It is, he should be able to catch up quite easily, he’s a very sweet and quiet boy. I think he’ll greatly benefit from being around children his own age.” 

He knows that’s true. “Okay, well, I’ll clean up a bit and get things ready here… when are you bringing him?” 

“We’re just in Indianapolis, so I’ll be there in an hour-ish?” She says, more so asking if that works for him. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Thank you, Eddie.” 

“Anytime.” 

He hangs up the phone on the receiver and looks around the room. He’s fucked. There’s no way he can clean everything and make it look presentable in an hour. 

But he’s damn sure going to try. 

He throws all his clothes in the washing machine, he rushes through dishes, and he runs the recycling and a few garbage bags down to the trailer park's dumpster. He tidies his room, and sets up a few spare blankets on the couch so that the kid knows he has a spot to sleep tonight before they get him set up with more… and just as he’s changing his shirt to something less heavy metal, there’s a knock on his door. 

“Coming!!” He shouts as he slips into the shirt and makes his way down the hallway. He’s barely got his arms in the sleeves as he’s opening the door. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s still a shock to see a woman no older than himself holding a garbage bag in one hand and holding hands with a little boy in the other. She’s in a dress suit, hair all pulled back and a small smile on her face, “Eddie Munson?” 

“Hi,” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks down at his brother then, “You must be Matthew?” 

He has the curliest hair, curlier than Eddie’s ever was at this age. He has chubby cheeks, big brown eyes and the longest lashes on earth that batt against those big cheeks each time he blinks. He’s adorable. How the hell could someone have a child so sweet and put them in this position? Was he this cute when he was little? Was this how Wayne felt when he was on his doorstep at 12? Or was he long past that cute phase and more into the annoying tween people felt bad for, stage? 

Matthew nods, reaching up to brush his curls out of his face, he looks so tired. His eyes are red, he doesn’t smile, he’s in tattered old running shoes and pants too short for his legs and a sweater Eddie’s seen before… that used to be his. He left it when he was gathering things to leave for Waynes. It was too small for him then, but now it’s a bit too big for Matthew. 

“Come in,” he steps aside and lets them in. “I uh, I cleaned as best as I could with short notice. I’ll do more tomorrow once I can borrow the vacuum from my uncle down the way, he’s at work right now. He works nights.” 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, letting Matthew in first.

He takes a look around, arms crossed to protect himself. He doesn’t make eye contact, he simply wanders over to the living room to take a look at the figurines Eddie has on the shelves. Wayne would call them toys, they could be if they weren’t so expensive, but with their price tag, they are made to stay in their little acrylic cases and sit on his shelves collecting dust till he has the time to clean again. 

“You like Star Wars?” He asks, trying to make conversation but Matthew just shrugs. “I’ll have to show you the movies sometime.” 

“Okay,” he says, quiet and meek. 

He doesn’t notice the social worker looking around. She opens the fridge, nods a bit and then closes it. She looks in the cupboards and drawers, and she notices that there are clothes in the washing machine tumbling around in soapy circles and she looks impressed. She keeps going down the hall, peaking in the bedroom, “Is it just you who lives here?” 

“Uh, yeah, I just got the trailer a couple months ago… I was renting downtown for a bit but then I got the opportunity to own this place,” he explains. “I’m thinking I’m going to get a pull-out couch for me and he’ll have the room. That’s what my uncle did for me.” 

“Sounds good,” she gives him a smile. “He seems like he’s good here.” She references over to Matthew who’s flipping through pages of a comic book, sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “Here,” she reaches into her pocket and hands Eddie a white envelope. 

“What is this?” 

“You’re not technically a foster parent, but because you’re under the poverty line and taking him in, I pulled some strings and you’ll be receiving a $500 allowance for him each month,” she explains. “It should help with groceries and clothes, and I can help you file for medical and dental benefits through some charities that focus on children going through tough situations.” 

“Damn, okay,” he’s so shocked. Where was all this when he was a kid? “Wow…” 

“And then in the bag, there is a manilla envelope with his birth certificate and other important documents. We couldn’t find any records of him getting his vaccines, so he should see a practitioner before going to school.” 

“Okay,” he nods along, feeling overwhelmed. “I uh, I don’t even have a doctor… does he need a kid doctor or will any do?” 

“A pediatrician would be best,” she explains. “In Indianapolis, we have a local pediatrician who does pro-bono work for children in the system. I included their number in the envelope, my cards in there, too, tell them I referred you.” 

“Thank you. This is more than anyone did for me when they dropped me off with Wayne,” he says, trying not to tear up a bit. “I’m going to take good care of him.” 

“I know you will,” she gives him a real smile, she touches his arm and then makes her way to the door. “You call if you need anything, but I think we’re all good here. Bye, Matthew!” 

He looks up from his book and gives her a wave, “Bye.” 

And then she’s gone. 

It’s just them now.

He has a kid.

A kid that will live with him and depend on him for… 18-6 is 12 but he’s 27 and still dependent on Wayne to an extent, so that’s 21 years. He’s going to have this kid forever. 

Eddie just watches him read for a moment, carefully keeping his distance. “Are you hungry?” 

He nods, “kinda.” 

“Do you have any favourite foods?” 

He shrugs, “Pringles.” 

Eddie sighs, of course. He remembers being fed Pringles and candied nuts and beef jerky from the gas station for years. He never had a real meal between his mom's death and moving in with Wayne.

“Have you ever had Mac and cheese?” 

Matthew shakes his head, looking confused. 

“Well, then I guess I’m going to have to introduce you to my favourite meal.” 

He fills a pot up with water and sets it on a burner, throws in a bit of salt and turns it on high. He pulls a box down from the cupboard and walks it over to Matthew, “See, this is Mac and cheese, it’s these little elbow-shaped noodles and a cheese powder that you mix with milk and butter and it becomes so delicious, you’re going to love it. You can try it by itself, or you can have ketchup on it like I do.” 

“I like ketchup,” he gives Eddie a little smile. “The lady at the drink place gives me ketchup with my fries.” 

He knows he means the bar. His dad brought him there for dinner a lot too because most nights a plate of fries was free when you ordered 3 or more beers. Sometimes, he’d get a burger or even some chicken tenders if the bartender thought he was cute… that stopped after he turned 8. By then he was a lanky, dirty kid no one wanted to deal with.

“So, Matt, how are you feeling?” 

“Hew,” he says, looking displeased. 

“What?” 

“My name is Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that. My name is Edward but people call me Eddie. It’s called a nickname,” he explains. “I know our father wasn’t big on nicknames, which is weird considering his preferred name is a nickname… but you don’t have to only go by Matthew. People can call you Matt, or Matty.” 

“Oh,” he settles with that. “So my dad is your dad?” 

He nods, “yeah… I mean he’s our father. There’s a big difference between a father and a dad.” Matt looks confused so Eddie starts to ramble. “You see, any man can father a kid, but not every man can be a dad. A dad is someone who takes care of you. Someone who reads you bedtime stories and tucks you in at night and kisses your forehead to see if you have a fever… a dad is someone who loves you and is always there for you. When I left our father, I moved in with his brother, Wayne. He did those things for me. He made me feel safe and cared for. Wayne is my dad.” 

“Oh,” he softens, looking behind Eddie, sad. “My mom did those things.” 

“My mom did too,” he understands. “Where is your mom?” 

“She’s an angel,” Matthew sighs, missing her. 

“So is my mom,” Eddie presses his lips together, awkwardly, trying not to smile but wanting him to feel comfortable. “But that’s okay, we’ve got each other now. I’m going to make sure we get you into school, and maybe tomorrow we can go shopping?” 

He nods excitedly, sitting up straight, “For what?” 

“Well, let’s see what you need,” Eddie says, looking for the bag of his things. He puts the box of Mac and cheese on the counter, the pot still isn’t boiling, it takes forever in here. He grabs the garbage bag and unties it, turning it over and dropping everything onto the carpeted floor. 

It smells so much like cigarettes that it honestly takes his breath away. “oh wow,” he tries not to gag. He smokes, sure, but not as much as Al, and definitely not in the fucking house. 

The pile of things is small. He starts to sort everything, he folds 2 pairs of jeans, 6 shirts, 3 pyjama bottoms and only 1 matching long sleeve top. He has 4 pairs of underwear that look like they’re for a toddler and no socks. There is 1 stuffed elephant and a picture of his mom in a frame… she looks a lot like his own mom. 

Al Munson has a type. 

“Okay,” he places his hands on his knees and bites his lip. “Well, looks like we need a bit of everything… new shoes, a good coat, some socks, a toothbrush, bathroom things? When was the last time you had a shower?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t remember?” 

“Okay, do you know how to shower alone?” 

He nods, standing up, “I do everything by myself.” 

“I figured… um, so while I make dinner do you want to go have a shower? I’m going to put your clothes in the wash later so you can wear one of my old shirts after?” Eddie offers, grabbing one of the other pairs of underwear out of the pile and standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.” 

He shows him how the shower turns on and off, sets out some towels for him and tells him just how much shampoo he should use. He gets him a new shirt, places it on the counter with his underwear and heads to leave. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” Matthew says, giving him a little smile before he shuts the door, leaving him to do his own thing. 

In the kitchen he can hear the pot boiling, so he pours the macaroni into the bubbling water. He sets the cheese packet to the side and heads right to the washing machine. He switches his clothes over to the dryer and loads Matt's stuff into the washer. He’ll put it on when the shower turns off so he has good water pressure to get the soap out of his hair.

It’s remarkable how easy it is. 

This time yesterday he was eating cold pizza and drinking a beer, thinking he’d never have the kind of life his co-workers did. Today, he has a kid. Today he’s doing laundry and making dinner and he’s going to have to tuck a kid into bed. Tomorrow he’s going to have to take him shopping. He has no idea how he’ll keep doing this every day? If he’ll be good at it? If he’ll have the money, the strength, the energy… 

All he can do is try. That’s what Wayne did, and Wayne did a fantastic job. But Wayne also had help, he had friends with kids whom Eddie got most of his things from, ladies who watched him after school and neighbours who made sure he was up in time for the bus when Wayne worked late. 

He still has 6 minutes till the macaroni is done, so he heads to the phone, dials the number to his coworker and he waits. 

“Hello?” Daryl’s deep voice picks up. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie.” 

“What’s the van doing this time?” He asks, sounding annoyed. 

“Oh, nothing. No. That’s not why I called. I uh… my kid brother is going to be living with me from now on. He’s 6—

“Oh shit,” Daryl can’t believe it. 

“Yeah, you and Laurene wouldn’t happen to have your boy’s old clothes still, would you?” He asks, feeling bad but he has to ask. 

“We’ve got buckets of their shit down in the crawlspace, I’ll ask Laur to go through it later. I don’t think we’ve got shoes, though. Our boys went through shoes like mad— I swear if they weren’t outgrowing them they were blowing the souls out dragging them on the playground,” he goes off. Eddie can just imagine he’s shaking his head as he explains it all. 

“I’ve got an allowance for him from the state, so I can get him new shoes,” Eddie assures. “He has like 4 shirts and no socks. I need to get him a coat and a backpack, and do you guys have a good doctor? He needs to get a doctor.” 

Daryl laughs, “I never thought you’d be coming to me for parenting advice.” 

“Me either, but he’s my brother. I wasn’t going to let him go into the system. I was with 1 family before Wayne, it wasn’t terrible but I’ve heard the horror stories. I can’t let him go through that shit.” 

“You’re a good man,” Daryl compliments him. “I’ll see what we can find tomorrow, I’ll bring it by the trailer. You think he’s a regular-sized 6-year-old?”

He chuckles a bit, “I think? I’m not sure really. He’s so small. I don’t think I was ever that small.” 

“We were all small once,” he smiles through the phone. “How about you come over tomorrow for lunch, he can meet our boys and we’ll figure out sizing that way?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie agrees. “Thanks again, Daryl. I really appreciate it.” 

“Any time kid, you have a good night.” 

“You too.” 

—

Dinner goes well, they talk about his favourite colours and if he likes music. He likes blue and his dad listened to the radio a lot. He hummed some songs he liked, nothing Eddie could really recognize cause it was probably new-age country. They put their plates in the sink, Eddie shows him where the ketchup goes in the fridge and they talk about getting some groceries tomorrow. Fun food. Things for snacks and easy dinners, and Eddie’s gonna have to start packing him lunches when he goes to school. 

He’s going to need a backpack and a lunch bag, a pencil case and pencils and crayons and Eddie’s going to need to help with homework. He doesn’t even know if the kid can read or write yet… 

Matt grabs the comic book again and sits back down on the couch, flipping back to the page he was on before, and looking at all the pictures. 

“Can you read?” Eddie asks, coming to sit beside him. 

He shrugs, “kinda.” 

“Cool,” he’s honestly impressed. “Have you ever had a comic book before?” 

“No… is that what this is?” 

“Yeah, I have a whole bunch. This is Wolverine 27, there’s 26 that come before it. I have most of them, you can read them all if you want?” He offers. “I also have some X-Men comics and a bunch of fantasy books— but they might be too advanced for you, so maybe I could read them to you?” 

He nods, a sweet gleam in his eyes, “Can you read me to sleep later?” 

“Of course, buddy,” he doesn’t even have to think twice. “Maybe I could read you my favourite book?” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s called Lord of The Rings,” he says with a smile. 

Maybe raising a kid could be fun. 

After explaining the plot to him and grabbing the old, well-read, book off the shelf, he looks at Matthew and the couple sheets he has laid out for him, “Would you want to sleep in my bed or out here on the couch tonight?” 

“I usually sleep in Dad's room,” he explains. “I have a bed in his closet.” 

The fucking closet again. Sure, it gives them both privacy, but a 3x5 room is nothing. It's stuffy and gross and you still hear everything Al gets up to in the middle of the night with his stupid friends. His heart breaks for Matthew. He wished he knew he had a brother sooner, he would’ve gotten Matthew and his mom away from Al as quick as humanly possible. 

Now all he can do is make it up to him. 

“Well, I was thinking you could have my room and I could get a couch that turns into a bed for me to sleep out here,” he explains his thinking. “I'm going to put all my clothes in the closet, I might get a new dresser or something for out here so you can keep all your things in your room.”

“Really? You mean it?” He lights right up. “I always wanted my own room.” 

Eddie smiles right back at him, “Well, now you’ve got one. It might take a little while for me to move my things out here and make it feel more like your space, but you’ll like it.” 

He nods, really happy with the thought of having his own space for the first time in his short little life. So happy, he gives Eddie a hug. 

“Oh,” he’s a bit shocked at first but then he softens, holding him back with a soft smile on his face. Eddie could really get used to this. “I’m glad you’re here, buddy.” 

“Me too,” he whispers against him, snuggling in, clearly tired after a long day. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” 

He nods, “Can I sleep with you?” 

“Uh… yeah, I just have to clean up a bit out here after I read to you but I can come back to your room?” Eddie compromises. He really wants to put his stuff in the washing machine before they go out tomorrow. 

He holds his hand and walks him down the hall to his bedroom, flicks on the light and watches Matt’s eyes light right up, “woah?” 

“You like it?” He smirks, it’s pretty basic. White paint covered in posters and homemade flags with his band's name on them. Homemade artwork from campaigns, photos from gigs and tickets from concerts and festivals he’s been to. 

“It’s so colourful,” he says as he lets go of Eddie’s hand and wanders over to his Iron Maiden poster. “He’s so… wow?” 

“His name is also Eddie… he’s the mascot for Iron Maiden, I’ll show you their music tomorrow in the van,” he promises. “You sure it’s not too scary to sleep in here?” 

He shakes his head, “No, it’s cool!” 

He can’t help but smile, it must run in the family to love this shit. He suddenly can’t wait to show him all the music he has, maybe teach him how to play guitar or hell, he might be into drums or bass and the boys can help him out. Having a little brother is a gift he never expected. This kid is so much like him, it’s going to be so fun. 

He never wanted a kid of his own… really, he just didn’t want to knock up some woman he didn’t love in the name of pretending to be straight. He didn’t want to change diapers and be up all night trying to soothe a crying crotch goblin. He’d do it if he had to, but he never put himself in the position to need to. Now he has Matt, he’s at a fun age, and he’s still mouldable. He can still be made into a good person, he’s not affected too much by their father which is a blessing. He was only with him half as long as Eddie was, and he turned out semi-okay? 

He turns the covers down, fluffs a pillow and flicks on the lamp light instead of the big light. “Come sit,” he offers, going to get his book from the shelf. 

Matt crawls into the bed, pulls the covers up over himself and sits there with his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for his story. 

“Has anyone read to you before?” 

He nods, “My mom did. Just little books, though,” he points at the massive book Eddie’s holding. “Not like that.” 

“I know, but the best part about these big books is that we can read this story every night for a while. It took Wayne a whole year to read it to me at bedtime,” he explains, taking a seat in the bed beside him. “So, it starts off kind of different… the narrator gives a rundown of the world first so that when you start reading, you’re not completely lost about what a hobbit is or where they live.” 

“Okay,” he nods along. 

“And the way the characters talk might be a bit strange, and the words are a bit long and some don’t exist in our world. If you need help understanding, don’t be afraid to ask me what something means,” he explains. “It’s hard to understand sometimes, but I’ve read it so many times I know almost everything about it.” 

He nods, leaning into Eddie’s arm and looking at the pages. “Are there pictures?” 

He shakes his head, “No, but I have drawn some of the scenes in my sketchbook, I can show you them later?” 

“Okay,” he settles against him and that’s how Eddie knows it’s time to start. 

“This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history…”

He reads in his most normal voice, he’ll introduce voices for the characters later. he’s actually really excited about that. Wayne used to try and do voices for him, but he never could keep them consistent. Eddie, on the other hand, would do voices in his head when he read the book to himself. 

“They do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a hand-loom, though they were skilful with tools. Even in ancient days they were, as a rule, shy of ‘the Big Folk’, as they call us,—

“Wait, so Hobbits are tiny?” Matthew asks. 

He nods, “Yeah, they’re probably about your size when they’re my age, but they have big hairy feet.” 

Matthew laughs, “I think I’m going to like this book.” 

Eddie smiles, “I think so, too” 

—

Wayne doesn’t work the same night shifts that he used to. He’s too old for that shit. Now, he comes home around 11pm, gets to sleep all night and goes back in at 3pm. He likes it this way. He’s always been more of a night owl, he enjoys sleeping when the sun is up more than anything, it runs in the family. It took Eddie most of his life to get onto a “normal” schedule for his 9-5. 

Wayne knocks on the trailer door lightly just as Eddie’s switching the laundry over. He rushes to the door and holds his finger up to his lips as he opens it, “Hey, let me come out here.” 

Wayne’s a little confused but he backs up and lets Eddie outside. “What’s goin’ on? You got someone over?” 

“Al had another kid after he got out, or during? I’m not sure about the logistics, but he got arrested again and now Matthew’s going to be living with me,” he explains. 

“That old fucker got another woman knocked up?” Wayne can’t believe it. “The courts should castrate ya after CPS takes two kids out of y’r care.” 

Eddie just chuckles, “Yeah, well, at least this one got away at 6.” 

“6?” Wayne repeats, eyes wide, “are you sure y’r up for that?” 

He nods, “he’s pretty calm and quiet. The social worker got us set up with an allowance so I’ll get $500 a month to take care of him and Daryl and his wife are going to hook us up with some hand-me-downs. Tomorrow I’m getting him some new shoes and underwear and a coat. And socks. He didn’t come with any socks?” 

“You didn’t either,” Wayne reminds him. 

He sighs, remembering all too well just how hard it was to be with Al for so long. “Yeah, well, we’re getting him everything he needs now. I need to get him set up at school, he needs a doctor, too… but we’ll be okay.” 

“You said his name is Matthew?” 

He nods, “had to teach him what nicknames are too. He likes Matt so far.” 

“Good, good,” Wayne places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “Wow, never thought I’d be here again.” 

“I told him you’re my dad,” Eddie explains. “Al’s just the man who made us, but dads take care of us.” 

Wayne lets out a huff and presses his lips together, his eyes well a bit, “boy…” 

“I know, I know,” Eddie laughs it off. “You’re not good with emotions, but it’s true. And who knows, he might start calling you grandpa with this logic.” 

“You’re gonna be a good dad to that kid,” Wayne compliments, meaning it with every fibre of his being. 

Eddie just reaches out and hugs him, “Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

Steddie

@nosaladallowed-ao3  @wifeyreid @girl-with-an-orange-cat @sunshinemunchkin @luna-munson83 @manda-panda-monium @steve-thehair-mamabear 

Single Dads fic

@stevesbipanic 

[screamlet]

fic update: what are your intentions? (ch 5-8)

pairings: buck/tommy, tommy/omc's, canon background pairings rating: E, word count: 45k (out of ~130k total) status: complete (posting schedule) tags: tommy pov, canon compliant, character study, queer themes/culture, angst, hurt/comfort, internalized homophobia, found family- THE WORKS. with a happy ending because i wouldn't do that to you.

Summary:

It's Tommy and Buck—the family they find and the family they make.

Excerpt:

About a week later, Tommy calls Eddie. "Hey, what's up? You're still coming, right?" "Yeah, I am, I was just wondering what someone wears to someone else's kid's adoption hearing? Like is there a dress code? I was looking online but it wasn't helpful. Socks are out again for some reason, and—are you gonna let me keep talking until I make an ass of myself?" "Absolutely," Eddie replies.

[bakvrue]

bakugou x reader

halloween costumes, named children, some cute family fluff, selfship coded, ~800 wc, divider @/cafekitsune

"Katsuki, you have to come out."

You hear a sad grunt on the other side of the bathroom door, and you can picture the way his face is contorting in the mirror already.

It was almost cruel of your daughter to ask this of him, but she doesn't know that.

"If you won't come out I'm coming in." You open the door and press your lips together, willing yourself not to laugh.

Your strong and prideful husband stares at himself in the mirror; green curls frame his face, a yellow cape hangs off his shoulders, and he's fitted with Deku's signature jump suit.

"I hate this." He narrows his eyes at himself in the mirror. "Do I have to wear the wig, can't I have some dignity?"

"You have to wear it for photos at least." He grumbles as you lean your head on his shoulder. Even covered in green he still looks like himself. "Wait, you forgot one very important part."

You grab an eyeliner pencil from your makeup drawer and turn his face, drawing Midoriya's four freckles on each cheek.

"There, the finishing touch." He groans, and you take his head into your hands. "Just wait until you see Katsuno, she's so excited to be her hero."

His mouth twists to the side, most likely wondering why he even agreed to match with her. But you remember how his eyes sparkled when she came home from preschool overwhelmed with excitement saying that she wanted to match costumes with him. She only slipped it in afterwards that she would be dressing as him, and that of course he would have to be Deku.

Katsuki makes peace with his reflection and turns to you, "So can I get a Halloween kiss?"

He puckers his lips, grabbing onto you before you can dance out of his reach. "Just a kiss for your hero," he makes kissy sounds like the menace he is and you erupt into laughter, pushing his face away and trying to bend over backwards to get away from his assault.

"Ew! Daddy, that's gross!" Your youngest, Natsumi, stands in the doorway, her hand on her hip and fairy wings on her back. The sparkle makeup you let her do herself makes her serious look very much the opposite.

Katsuki lets go of you, and gets into a crouching position, hands in the air like he's some sort of monster. "It's your turn for kisses then!"

He chases her out of the bathroom and down the hall, rounding the corner into the girls' room, but Katsumi jumps out of the doorway holding up her hand to command a stop. Her hair is up in a ponytail, accented with Bakugou’s own hair spikes, her costume an almost near replica for his own, down to the knee pads and the boots.

"Stop!" Her little voice makes Katsuki freeze in his tracks, he grunts and lunges after her and your daughter squeals and runs into her room, with her father/monster/Deku on her tail.

"It's not every day you see prohero Deku chasing a squealing Dynamite!" You call down the hallway as you grab the last pieces of your costume.

"It's Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight to you!" Katsuki and Kasuno yell out in unison.

Your oldest, Takumi, appears next to you. His ninja costume must be working some type of magic because where did he even come from?

He shakes his head at the racket, "Those two are too much alike."

"Don't I know it…" you laugh at the screams coming from the girls' room once again and you can only imagine what is going on in there. Katsuki probably has them cornered on one of the beds and they're about to turn the tides with the help of some stuffed animals. "Come on bud, let's go see if anyone is here yet."

Bonus:

"You got photos of this right?" Izuku sneaks up on you with two of his children climbing on his arm like a jungle gym.

"Of course I did." You wiggle your phone at him, "And I already made backups, and backups of the backups."

"Smart," Izuku shuffles on his feet and the two kids decide climbing on their dad isn't fun anymore and run off. "Would you—"

"Don't worry, I already sent you a few."

"Thanks," Izuku looks around the crowd to spot his wife when you hear a loud yell.

"AUGH! You can't take me down so easily villains!"

You find the source: your husband, with his mini-me on his shoulders, and every Bakugou and Midoriya child, about eight in total, climbing on him trying to drag him down. The green wig slipping off his head and the child hanging off his neck; you raise your phone yet again.

*Click*

"Don't worry Izuku, I'll send that one too," you laugh before he can even open his mouth.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 32 (A Handsome Detective Investigates the Hack)

Detective Conrad Gordon stood in Heather's front yard with his canine partner, Bernese mountain dog Gord.

She'd never seen him before, but Heather knew why he was here. She raced to put her son in his crib and get dressed.

Holding out his badge, he offered a respectful nod and a charming smile that made her nervous. "Detective Conrad Gordon, ma'am. Are you Heather Nesbitt?" She nodded, holding her breath. Just her luck; the hottest man she'd ever seen had come to arrest her. "I'm here to look into a recent hack of Landgraab Systems. Did you know anything about that?"

"I mean, I read about it in the news like everybody else," she said. Her voice wavered. She was a very bad liar.

He clipped his badge back to his belt. "Do you mind if I take a look around your computer? A tip to San Myshuno PD said you might know something more."

"That's silly."

She laughed with an anxious breath, letting him in to search her PC. She hoped she’d covered her tracks, but the detective had been a geek since he learned how to type. Just like Heather.

He knew where to look and exactly what he was looking for. She could tell, and she tried to look busy. Flustered, she put a pot of soup on the grill in the backyard (why Heather why?!), but this was exactly the sort of strange behaviour that made a guilty person look it.

He joined her outside with a sympathetic frown. "You're really savvy with computers," he observed. "A vet who's also an app developer who got her start as the best online Incredible Sports player the game's ever seen."

She blushed. "You know about that?"

"I did a bit of research before the drive out here, but I didn't need to be reminded of all the times ButtercupNesbeets and your Henford Hens All-Stars kicked my butt online in high school."

"You played?"

"Not as well as you. But why the jump from gaming to hacking?"

The truth flooded out of her. "Malcolm Landgraab stole my app code, but I use those royalties to raise our son. And if Landgraab Corp's nothing but shady deals and bad business, I'm worried for my clinic. Besides, the news report said it barely cost the Landgraabs a thing!"

"It's still illegal, Miss Nesbitt."

"Mama mama!" Ash called for her from beyond the patio door, interrupting her rambling explanation. She pulled the pot of soup from the stove and shut off the grill, heading inside to lift her son from his crib.

"Cute kid," said the detective. Ash wriggled from his mother's anxious grasp and Conrad reached out to steady him. "Is the second one Malcolm Landgraab's, too?"

"No, thank the Watcher. I'm a surrogate for my best friends, and I guess I've been a bit hormonal. I was frustrated, but I didn't do it to steal a bunch of data and I don't plan to do it again. I just wanted to get back at my ex. It was stupid."

Heavily pregnant with a child for friends who couldn’t expand their family without her help, Conrad could sympathize with Heather's motives. Everyone in Simlandia knew the Landgraabs only cared about enriching themselves, but Heather was a single mom who saved the lives of helpless animals.

His dog took a liking to her instantly. Gord always knew a bad egg when he saw one, and Conrad could usually trust his canine's instincts better than his own.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to get arrested? Should I call my parents to come get my son?"

The handsome young detective didn’t have the heart to bring her in. "I didn't record your confession because you said you've felt emotional lately. I don't like to take a confession under duress, so I guess the investigation has to continue. If the Landgraabs insist on pressing charges, you'll probably hear from me again. For now, I should head back, file a report, and let you get back to your son."

He didn't have a plan, but rather than stop by the station when he returned to the city, Conrad turned onto the overpass over the bridge and parked his cruiser Uptown... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

WCIF Conrad Gordon? I used this sim by lemariiia from the Sims 4 Gallery, and changed his hair and beard to be a little less old fashioned. I changed his last name because I felt like it (it was Sampson IIRC), but otherwise everything else is the same. The dog I gave him myself because I love this breed.

Also we totally don't have to play coy and act like that's not the sim in my userpic! 😂 After I called time on the Everett/Heather flirtation because I fell too hard for Spencer and didn't want to do that to her anymore, I needed to pivot because there's still no gen 3 heir! I also need to make Heather do programming things to keep the Techie lifestyle (even though she decided years ago she doesn't even like the skill), so I planned the hack and the investigation, searched the gallery for five 'detective' sims, and then my friend Kenzie picked Conrad based on looks and traits.

Spoiler alert but I hope you guys love him because Kenzie picked so well!

[i-cant-sing]

First lady y/n always reminds me of lady diana (rip🥺) like, they have the same personality or something where they are gentle but knows when to put their foot down YK WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?? 😭😭😭 Like, she's always there ready to protect her kids and family 🥹🥹🥹

YES and it's not just her own kids, ITS ALL KIDS! My girl is visiting an orphanage and elbows Secret Service agent Katsuki not to trip the little kid who keeps running around you. Or whispers into Secret Service Shotou's ear not to have the thousand yard as he stares at the kids cause they're getting scared now. Or maybe when she's visiting a hospital and catches Kai gloating when he's about to win a chess game against some kid- "Kai! Let him win, for God's sake he's got the cancer." You elbow your husband who scowls but listens. The paparazzi have thousands of pictures of you looking bear tears and about to sob while holding babies because you can't get over how absolutely chonky they are.

Whenever she gets called to the principals office because of the teletubbies, she is always marching in with a whole "MY KIDS CAN DO NO WRONG!" attitude even though she knows that they definitely did something wrong and if its like bullying or hurting someone, the teletubbies are in for a silent treatment. But if its something stupid like dress code, then she's got the hand on her hip wearing 6 inch heels pose on, ready to rip the school board a new one.

(Except the dress code violation was Dabi wearing "I'm gonna kill Student Counselor Mr Hizashi" cause he said I need to apply to college and leave mommy)

[respectthepetty]

Addicted Heroin (Th) Cut Scenes and Colors - Episode 8

I'm reporting on the missing scenes from YouTube's version of Addicted Heroin [episode: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven]. This week's episode didn't have a lot of scenes missing from the edited version, but the ones that were missing were very meaningful.

First cut scene:

When Blue Boy Hero is working out and recapping his miserable childhood since his dad made him (and his brothers) constantly work out and prepare to be in the military, Green Guy Pop in Hero's color comforts him. Hero mentions how his childhood wasn't that horrible only because his mom made him snacks; then, he asks Pop if he wants to meet his mom.

Hero takes Pop to his dad's house, and he shows Pop pictures of him with his mom from when he was kid.

He tells Pop that the song he was singing in the convenient store the night they met was the same song his mom would sing when she was working around the house.

Then he tells Pop that his mom died because of his dad.

She had to go with the dad on a military trip as part of her duties as military wife, and she took his car back while the father stayed behind. The car was attacked because the attackers believed the father was in the car. She died, and Hero blames his dad because the military has always come first for him and he seems fine sacrificing his family for it like his mom, brothers, and cousin.

Hero also asks if Pop's mom worked at a jewelry store because about a week or so before his mom died, she was sent some jewelry with a bad omen in it. Pop says hie believes his mom did work at a jewelry store when he was younger, and we are officially in the mystery portion of this show.

Second cut scene:

After Yellow Yal Tiger transforms into the perfect Pancake, he is forced to sit down with the girl he has been catfishing since he was making her believe that she was flirting with Pink Person Only. He must convince her that he, Pancake, is dating Only, so she will leave Only alone, so first, they must pass the color-coding assignment by Pancake wearing her man's color head-to-toe.

But Tiger immediately tells the girl she is beautiful and tries to kiss her hand while using male pronouns. Basically, he already forgot the purpose of him dressing like a girl.

So Only tries to pivot and feed Pancake, but Tiger is allergic to shrimp. So Pancake tries to feed Only, but Only doesn't eat spicy food.

The girl who is witnessing this chaos presses for more information and asks how they know each other. Now, Only uses male pronouns for Pancake.

The girl asks if Pancake also wants to study film like Only, and Pancake says she wants to go into the military, which I'm guessing is only for men, so Pancake tries to recover and says she wants to be in a military rom-com.

Somehow, this girl is believing these two idiots because they are touchy with each other and their banter is top-tier, but then Pancake's left boob goes missing. Only tries to warn Pancake, but Tiger is too caught up in the act to notice. Finally Only grabs Pancake to adjust the missing boob, and the girl mistakes the action for kissing (and possibly something more sexual), and leaves after being convinced of their love . . . or just terrified of what she had to witness

The boys go to leave but the shop that Tiger left his clothes in is closed for lunch, so he can't get his clothes, and this is exactly when Pop shows up for a haircut.

Pop immediately recognizes it's Tiger and calls him by his full government name, but he is making fun of Pancake's missing boob when Hero sees the interaction and instantly gets upset and starts threatening Pancake for enticing his brother boyfriend. Only seeing the danger in Hero's eyes simply states, "I don't care. I'm out" and retreats quickly.

Realizing Hero will kill a woman for Pop, Tiger snatches off his wig and throws it at Only for leaving him hanging and storms off much to Pop and Only's delight while leaving a flabbergasted Hero behind.

Third cut scene:

Only is practicing his javelin throwing skills, which is he actually pretty good at, when he hears a strange noise like a ghost crying. After inspecting further, he finds the horrible noise is coming from Tiger who hurt himself running. Sidenote: Because Only wants to study film the show's Instagram has been posting all the movie references Only keeps making throughout the show, which several of the references are Thai horror films as well as rom-coms.

Tiger is not only physically hurt but he is emotionally wounded because he knows he sucks at running and feels like he is failing everyone including his friends and family.

Only tells Tiger he is already amazing, so he needs to take it easy on himself, but if he is this miserable, he should quit the race.

Tiger gets upset at that suggestion and tries to leave, but his injured foot causes him to slip, and luckily Only is there to help him back into a sitting position. Tiger says he can't quit because it's not just about the race, but about not giving up even when he sucks, and Only tells him again that's why he is amazing. He never gives up!

Tiger is still upset, so Only strategically says that since Tiger just wants to have a pity party, he is going to go back to practicing the javelin, but when he goes to throw it right next to Tiger, he awkwardly throws it and falls down in the process (even though we know he is good at it). His plan works, and Tiger laughs.

Tiger finally hops away with his spirit lifted and a new sense of determination.

They are my OTP.

Bonus:

This was in the edited version, so this is for the folks watching the unedited version. The show is selling limited edition figures of some of the special moments from the show between Pop x Hero and Only x Tiger.

But the real treat is the show is selling figurines of the moment Hero tied up Pop!

And I need whoever is reading this to know I AM going to find a way to get this because this moment is probably winning a Colors Awards for being color-coded toxicity WITH COLOR-CODED ROPE! This is easily one of my favorite color-coded moments EVER in a BL, and I need this figure like I needed those damn cat plushies from 4 Minutes.

[beanghostprincess]

Roger really DOES have mad girldad energy and I am feral.

Welcome to my walls btw, it's hot af in Florida, so lmk if you need a popsicle/hj

Just. Omfg imagine Toki and Buggy bonding SO MUCH and Toki is the one who helps Buggy find Her Style and Her Confidence. Oden also has Big Himbo Dad Emergy too, so I bet he'd just be like ":000 a GIRL! WONDERFUL!!! I shall have TWO daughters!"

Roger ofc takes big offense to that and it becomes a shipwide brawl over who gets to be her dad, and Buggy is just laughing, crying, pickpocketing everyone. Only like. Three fellas even have the driving NEED to call her their daughter, they just love the chaos. Shanks is just left GAPING bc ofc he loves Buggy, he always has, always will, but the way she was smiling, the way she's just beaming at the acceptance, no matter how dramatic it is - by Davy Jones, it steals his breath away.

Whatever you do tho, don't imagine Toki dressing Buggy up in traditional Wano attire. Don't imagine Toki taking on the role of aunt or big sister and sharing this culture with Buggy. Teaching her the ways of warriors from her homeland, the codes and dress and recipes. Don't imagine Toki telling Buggy "family secrets" like recipes, fighting styles, etc. Don't imagine Toki just easily saying that of course Buggy needs to know these things! Blood is but the fluid of life, and love is what makes a family - and Buggy has so much love to give, so much to receive, and Toki calls her a child of Wano in heart and soul, in all the ways that matter should Buggy want that.

And Buggy, who has only ever wanted to BELONG, oh she accepts without hesitation.

Leaving Toki behind was hard, but she gifts Buggy an heirloom of sorts, a hair piece that she keeps either tucked under her beanie or safe in a chest, anchored to the floor of her room ((or hidden carefully with Devil Fruit powers)).

The day Toki manages to make/get a suitably sized kimono for Buggy, maybe for a party on the ship, maybe a birthday celebration ((and here I insert my Wano Culture Headcanons, that there's a birthday where children transition to young adults, and it's similar to a quinceñera but different, partially because it's done at 13, and then a second one at 18, a five year period of growth, life compared to butterflies, and so Toki convinces the crew to do these for the Cabin Kids-))

Buggy comes out, hair done, kimono flawless and bright and bold and so very her, a quiet joy on her face, and the crew is FLABBERGASTED.

Roger is sobbing.

Rayleigh has suddenly aged 20 years because oh shit oh gods she's going to be beautiful as an adult, oh damn it all he's gonna have to beat men off of her-

Shanks is caught between swooning, wanting to tackle her, and remembering just how the heck breathing works.

((Roger, Rayleigh, Crocus and Oden do rock paper scissors to get the first dance with her, and it dissolves into a fist fight somehow. Shanks gets involved and bites them. Toki takes the first dance.))

I have. So many emotions about transfem Buggy, bestie, send help it's all my brain can think about.

It's okay, I miss hot weather because here in Spain I am freezing and I am a spring child. My spiritual flower is a sunflower. I need the SUN. I NEED TO GO INTO THE FLAMES. So I'll stay there happily.

Please, Toki would so adopt Buggy. And Oden would be THRILLED. He'll see them getting along and he'd instantly say they look like mother and daughter. Buggy would be shy about it but Toki would probably laugh and say "Oh! Do we really? What do you think, Bugs?" and it's just,, So sweet,, Oden loves her a lot and he can't wait to see his Hiyori grow up too. Roger would be FURIOUS when he hears that because he "found her first" which, you know, true, but it's a weird way of saying that's his daughter. Anyway- Rayleigh would be so fucking done with everything. They'd fight about it and Buggy would actually have the time of her life because she feels important and flashy for once in a long time, and she'd laugh oh so beautifully at them when talking with Shanks about it in their room. Like she'd just laugh at the situation and Shanks is still not getting used to his very very not platonic feelings for his best friend. But he'd enjoy his time with her. He's just going a bit insane.

I can't stop thinking now about Buggy finally finding a place to belong. She's been lost for so long,, Feeling left out. And now Toki has gifted her with the most precious treasure there is: A home. Belonging. And I am so so emotional right now. Toki would be so proud of her and Buggy would just be so thankful. If Buggy called her 'mom' at some point, she'd feel embarrassed right away, but Toki would probably fight the tears and hug her close. Going crazy, really. All the men in Buggy's life fighting for her first dance,, Rayleigh just knows he'll have to fight all the men that hurt his precious star. And Shanks is starting to think about that too and the thought of Buggy dating somebody else makes him sick, so perhaps he needs to start with a plan to confess finally (he's so asking Toki about it. I'm gonna cry). Roger crying because he wants to enjoy every second he has left with her... It kills me.

I just know that to this day, Buggy still thinks about Toki as her mom. She never mentions it to anybody, but she feels such a strong connection to Wano and she's dying to go there finally someday. She might have not been born there, but her soul belongs there. And it's just so sweet. I am sobbing, thank you. Every time she does her hair, she feels Toki's hands instead of hers and she remembers everything she taught her,,,

Now I have on my mind a very silly Shuggy thought about Shanks trying to flirt with Buggy but failing miserably (because he's a kid and he only knows how to tease her or follow Roger's advice which are, um, not good) and Buggy just being so done and exhausted. She can't stand him! He's so annoying! Sometimes she doesn't know if she wants to punch him or kiss him! And she doesn't even know if Shanks likes her back because he keeps acting stupid. And she goes to Toki for advice and she's like "oh, darling... Men are stupid. Do you know why you felt smarter than them when you were unaware of being a girl? Well, one of the reasons is that Shanks is a kid. He's dumb. But he loves you and cares so much for you... He's just having a hard time trying to make his way to your heart" / "But he-! He's so damn- Ugh. He's such an idiot. He already did, and he just doesn't know because he can't see it and I can't stand him-" / "Well, maybe you should be the one telling him, huh?" / "What?! No! And give him the satisfaction of thinking I fell first?! I'd rather die. No. He has to make the first move". And now Toki is involved (like the rest of the crew because Shuggy is a whole teen drama) in their love story because Buggy keeps complaining about men being stupid and Shanks keeps saying he doesn't get how Buggy can't see he's in love with her.

[daystarvoyage]

Luz Shouldve Been Dressed By A POC (Person Of Color Or Luz Batista To Show Better Cultural & POC Reprensation)

Hello Tumblers, This is kyoko cane of daystar voyage, as a proud black person who’s genderqueer who makes content creations On Pop culture such as Cosplay & drag, I do talk on Animation & Family Entertainment So glad to get this topic cause what we see on tv can be put into reality, Now (Disclaimer)

I will not accept hate on the daystar voyage anyone who can’t handle different opinions, ship whatever (unless legal) if not walk out or off this spaceship into a asteroid belt and black hole

Don’t hate appreciate.

One more thing I do love my girl Luz pilot outfits, there goals however wish they had time to put patterns into her clothes often, like I said in my hootview

However the female cast had a better closet then her, and I did discuss that in my video, for some time they did make her dress in a shonen archetype, (which I made a post about her hair) or an spicy Latina Which of of course personality wise too, (cause she’s made to be the gender non confirming character) but excuse all that cause in a way, the staff shoulda hired someone whos Either Afro, African American Or Latin to dress this girl.

Oh boy now that im done rewatching The Owl House there’s so much in store soon anyway,

I do feel its time to start this short post, I have a fashion hootview which is the intermission so there’s still a lot to come meantime, finished my rewatch of The Owl House as an animation lover,

Lets discuss this topic at hand,

2020s animators need to take notes on costuming & style tips to make characters stand out in environments and to treat there characters better in fashion or color coordination,

yes you can have a color coded character and not rely of a main palette to be able to bring out there features & complexion,

Animators need to take notes, how to properly show kids & there audience that good clothing could be put onto a character of any occasion & not have to rely on sexuality or Stereotype (Disney Programs have a hit or miss on certain shows.)

while proper fashion can do justice, that goes into making a franchise and making a product to sell for marketability in retail & consumers.

if the character or product can be sold with a great design if executed flawless by character, design, costuming, and the app that comes within the series,

This goes to the fandom cause there might be future artistsor small indie creators reading this who probably never read, or look up fashion brands, magazines either hot couture or brand clothing and don’t have that knowledge But that shouldn’t stop you from being able to experiment with different color palettes on what goes into your art.

The fandom needs a wake up call that not only is everything’s perfect and people have the right to critic and criticize a show or any form of art.

cause fandoms today has a self righteous way of bullying others of different opinions and ostracizing others and ithas to stop,

Here’s a quick tv trope in color-coded characters, & a Toonsmag article on fashion in animation.

Marketability is a important factor, industries rely on that to make the money off of that series, be a cartoons or projects,

it impacts the character and representation that kids see when they purchase said item and teaching kids, see good representation within media can matter if done right.

Especially POCs if executed well however

DONW BELOW in some cases miraculous ladybug fumbles it hard, at one point had all the poc of color (EXAMPLE limited to alya and nino if not max be lighter tones on there merch.)

You know lighting character's skin tones like Alya and other brown or dark skin characters, on their products & merch (bad ethnic representation award goes to them).

Not to mention the whole Vas underpaid controversy, that’s been discussed countless times.

(still disappointed about there business decisions)

I appreciate the love of anyone who can view and read this article if you gotten this far,

thanks for reading make sure to check my Tumblr and YouTube vlog cause so much of this particular series I’m gonna debunk

The show had a-lot going for it however feel flat including in the fashion department along miraculous ladybug that’s another thing to be discuss OH BOY so anyway

here’s an example of the video game art of Guilty Gear showing great costume progress years later

always educate yourself cause I do want my platform to show variety on what I offer creatively and semi-education-wise to be able to let people be inspired and that you don't need to follow trends, thank you very much seeya on the next space voyage.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

The previous chapter:

Pt.3

So...this was normal right? Steve wasn't surprised anymore at his new normal. Should it surprise him that a woman in a wedding dress is sitting across from him in the back room of his shitty 9-5? Probably. But it doesn't. He doesn't know what to do with her though. She hasn't said a word, just keeps staring at him with large wet eyes. He zeroes in on her necklace. She's fiddling with it, twirling it around. It kind of reminds him of Eddie's guitar pick necklace but the colors are different. A mixture of yellow and blue and red.

It's getting a little too silent for his liking.

"Can you tell me your name?" Steve asks her as softly as he can.

"L-Lydia"

"Do you have a last name? Any family in town?"

"Well haha," she cuts off with a laugh. "You could say that." Her blue eyes almost seem to narrow afterwards like she's trying to read his mind. He hopes she doesn't have powers like El he can't exactly explain away anything more. She looks so familiar, if she was younger she'd look exactly like his mother as a child. He runs through a list of girls he's hooked up with and is thankful none of them have dropped off surprise babies. I mean could you imagine? Him? With kids while he's this young? Ha! Laughable.

...it's his dream.

"Can you tell me what you're doing here? I mean I don't understand why you asked for me." He tries not to think of the obvious white frilly elephant in the room.

"I'm in trouble and you were the first name I thought of."

Trouble?

"Your fiance? He hurt you?" He starts to push himself off the couch feeling overly protective of this girl. "And I know him? He mentioned me?" His fists clench.

"No! No! No! Not that kind of trouble I'm ok really!" She looks bashful now like she's embarrassed but she's looking at him with pride in her eyes. "Can you sit down again?"

She grabs his hands.

"I am here to help you Steve Harrington. I need you to trust me."

"I don't understand."

"I know how to stop Vecna."

His blood runs cold.

"No." He rips his hands out of hers. "Who are you? What are you? ROBIN!"

"No! Please! I'm here to help. You have to believe me!"

He can hear Robin outside arguing with a second voice.

"I'm from the future," she grabs him again trying to put her entire weight on him to stop him from leaving. "I'm not from the Upside Down I'm here to help!"

She's almost backing him up by the door, her eyes frantic.

"Please I thought you of all people would believe me!" She clinging onto him for dear life. He can't breathe. It can't be back. He was naive to think it was over.

The back door opens behind him and they both tumble to the floor.

"Woah, Stevie, the other girls weren't good enough you had to go for the married ones?" Eddie cackles from above him.

Lydia snaps her head up at the sound of his voice. Her entire face going pale. She looks nauseous.

"I have to go." She states seriously

"Wait! No! You-" she pushes past them and runs out of the store.

"Wow" Eddie says "I've never had that kind of reaction from a girl before."

"Shut it Munson call a code red."

------

Lydia is at the Diner in town sipping on a chocolate milkshake when a familiar mop of hair approaches her.

"Hey"

She turns her head slowly at the sound, eyes glassy. She feels numb. Reality setting in. It played out differently in her head, she doesn't know what she should've expected. Her Pa to magically remember her? Years before she was even born? Before her parents even got together? She huffs out a breath and turns towards the voice that dares to interrupt her wallowing. What she's not expecting is to be face to face with her uncle. Well...face to shoulder...he's shorter at this age.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah holy shit is right!" Her Uncle Dustin looks upset, a little frown line forming between his brows. "You need to come with me."

------

Hi guys! How're you liking this? It's the one thing I look forward to writing when I get off work. My schedule only has me writing small chapters sorry. I also have the ending already written before the rest.🫣 Please interact with this!!! I love reading your comments :)

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@tinyplanet95