#maybe they're like... in a restaurant or something?

[liketolaugh-writes]

They excused themselves soon after, when both elder Fentons had lost themselves in the folder of studies. Danny all but chased them out, making sure they didn't go anywhere but out the door. It was borderline ghost-like behavior, something G pointed out quietly after the door had shut behind them.

Cory nodded. "If he's that contaminated, they're lucky he never developed ectoplasmic oncosis," he said, referring to the last stage of ectocontamination poisoning. "Maybe children are better able to tolerate it on top of being more susceptible."

G shrugged, offering no further thoughts, so Cory tucked the thought away for later. If nothing else, he suspected this town would provide some data on that front as well. If only they'd been here from the beginning! Cory had never been so thankful for his flawless spiritual relations record. He might not be great with humans, but ghosts, Cory could be patient with.

"Soil samples?" Cory asked G.

"Soil samples," G agreed.

It was boring, working their way through town, packing dirt into vials, but necessary if they wanted an overall distribution of ectoradiation. Cory assumed that the Fenton household would have the most by far, but they should be able to get an idea of which areas saw the most ghost activity by the radiation levels. As they went, he kept an eye on their surroundings and thought absently that the infrastructure costs for this town had to be insane.

"Agent N." Cory glanced up at G's address, and G nodded at a small pack of teenagers hanging out by a fast food restaurant. Nasty Burger? "We should talk to them."

G was probably the only person that Cory wished would say more words. "Liminal?"

G nodded. "They've probably seen enough to have some info."

Cory shrugged and nodded, packing and labeling the last sample before he headed over. The teenagers noticed him before he reached them, and looks of displeasure and disgust appeared quickly. Cory really wanted to have a word with the previous GIW staff. Preferably in a windowless room where no one would see him throttle them. Uncooperative civilians made everything so much harder.

"Hello," he said, clipped but polite. "I'm Agent N, from the research division of the Ghost Investigation Ward. May I ask you some questions about the... ectocontamination present in you and your classmates?" If that was the term the Fentons used, it was most likely what these kids were familiar with.

The kids exchanged annoyed looks and eye rolls before a Hispanic girl took the lead, fixing Cory with a strict look and a surprisingly sharp grin. "Sure, if you can answer one question for us. Phantom, yes or no?"

"...Yes?" It clicked, and Cory nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Of course the locals were pissed at the people shooting at the resident guardian spirit. "The GIW agents you're familiar with were breaking official policy. They were fired en masse last week. Please assume that I disagree with everything they've ever said or done."

He'd caught them by surprise, he could tell, and they exchanged a few more uncertain looks in a hive mind typical of high school cliques.

"So you're with Phantom now?" the Hispanic girl asked, eyebrow raised. Cory nodded. "Like, officially, completely?"

"The competent agents of the GIW understand ghosts a bit better than the guys you're used to," Cory said dryly. "Phantom is a textbook guardian spirit, and probably a peacekeeper at that. Antagonizing him was stupid at best, and at worst, could've turned the whole situation ass-up in all kinds of ways." As it was, they'd probably turned the poor kid into an anxious wreck. Though not without help from the Drs. Fenton and the Huntress.

The girl whistled, though she didn't look completely convinced. "Yeah, okay, you get it," she decided. "Ask away."

On cue, the other kids settled down as well, watching them expectantly. Cory elbowed G in the side. Cory had handled the initial diplomacy, G could ask his damn questions.

G took the implicit order with good grace. "Do you know the signs of ectocontamination?" he asked. There was a general murmur of assent. "How many people do you know that have been exhibiting at least one of those symptoms?"

They exchanged thoughtful looks.

"Most of our year," a blonde girl said decisively. "I mean- that's not usual or anything, most people around here aren't ectocontaminated at all. But our year had this whole thing with a bunch of ghost bugs that bit everyone and gave us ghost powers for a few days, so we got it then." She shrugged it off like it wasn't the most batshit insane thing Cory had ever heard. "Uhh... Sam Manson and Tucker Foley have it pretty bad, they got possessed a couple years ago."

"Overshadowed, you mean?" Cory broke in, unable to help himself. The girl rolled her eyes.

"No, idiot, you don't get contaminated from being overshadowed, or loads more would have it. Manson and Foley were possessed. It was freaky."

"What the fuck has been happening in this town," Cory muttered, earning a few snickers from the assembled teenagers.

"Jazz and Danny Fenton have it the worst, though," a blond jock put in, shoving his hands in his pockets to eye them with some distrust still. "Have since we were kids. It was obvious even before we knew what that was. And then Danny had, you know, the accident." All of the other kids nodded, so apparently this accident was big enough that their whole school had heard about it and they didn't feel the need to explain. Or maybe that was just how small Amity Park was. "It was twice as obvious after that."

"The accident?" G asked, which was invasive but fair. Cory also wanted to know what the hell kind of accident resulted in more liminality than Cory had known was possible.

A few of the kids grimaced, more subdued just at the mention.

"Danny got hurt a couple weeks before our freshman year," an Asian kid in a letterman explained quietly. "Super bad lab accident. He got electrocuted when the portal turned on. He was in the hospital for a couple of days and he hasn't really been the same since."

Well. The Fentons had not mentioned that detail, though Cory supposed he should have guessed. (Something about the story rang a bell in the back of his head, but he did his best to ignore it for now.)

G just nodded, brow furrowed. "Has anyone gotten seriously ill since the portal opened?" he asked, returning to the previous topic. "Hypothermia, headache, mood swings. Swelling that's cold to the touch. Internal bleeding, seizures. Bruising or blisters that are unusually green. Anything like that?" The symptoms of ectoplasmic oncosis.

The kids looked at each other again, frowning.

"Not since the beginning," the blonde girl said after a minute. "I think some of the kids at our high school got some of that early on, especially anyone who went to see that weird counselor, Dr. Spectra."

The Hispanic girl nodded. "I remember getting sick," she agreed. "I was super cold and had a migraine for days, and these weird green bruises. But it didn't last that long."

A couple of the other kids chimed in agreement, and G spent a few minutes asking for their names and writing them down.

"The Fentons think that the ambient ectoradiation is helping acclimate us to ectoplasm without actually contaminating people," the blonde girl, Star, added when they were done. "That's why people are really only being affected by specific incidents." It was surreal to hear a Mean Girls-esque high schooler using advanced ectoscience terminology. She shrugged at Cory's look. "The Fentons' lectures are decent when they don't try to talk about actual ghosts. I listen in on most of them and relay anything useful to the rest of our year."

"You're a lifesaver, Star," Kwan said earnestly.

G nodded. "Thank you," he said politely, shutting his notebook. "I may contact some of you for follow-up later."

"Sure." Star studied G for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, pointed out, "You're ectocontaminated too. You sensed it on us, and you've got the eyes." She gestured to her own, which Cory had already noticed reflected light at certain angles.

G tilted his head, startled, and considered her for a moment before nodding. "I'm from Point Pleasant, West Virginia," he explained. "It's got plenty of activity of its own. Nothing like what Amity has, of course."

The kids laughed.

"Obviously," Paulina said. "Nowhere is like Amity."

Fortunately, Cory was almost certain that was true.

The Worst Branch in the Country

The GIW knows Amity Park is a huge fraud. The “most haunted city in the US”, really? They’ve been checking the place out for decades with nary a peep aside from that couple of crazy scientists that moved into town around twenty years prior.

Because of this, the town became a punishment duty. One of their agents causes trouble? They get put in time out and sent to work for a while in Amity Park. Let those idiots chase after pointless rumors while the actually competent agents work with the more important ghosts. The reports back from the town get barely more than a cursory glance before getting tossed in the shredder.

…Which really came back to bite them when ghosts did actually start to show up, and they didn’t realize until after the Amity Park branch had royally screwed up the situation.

Fuck, they really hope this doesn’t start a war.

Optional DPxDC addition: they call in the Justice League Dark for help with negotiation and taking down their rogue members

[screamlet]

micelli's date nightmare (ver 2.5)

this is part meta, part fic, an alternate micelli's date from 8x6. word count: 2.7k

---

"that was kind of weird."

"no it wasn't. you're hot, so is she. it's okay to look."

"yeah, right, and i noticed you didn't." 

"i'm a kinsey 6," tommy says, kind of incredulous.

"i'm not sure what that means?" buck asks, as the audience surrogate.

and that's a problem, because in-universe buck is no longer the whole audience's surrogate. now he's a man who discovered his queerness later in life; he's a man in a queer relationship with another man; he's someone who celebrates a six-month anniversary out in public with his male partner. there's people in the audience who can see and celebrate parts of that journey with buck, who have been there or see how they can get there in their own exploring, but that's a road that not a lot of people have gone down or ever will. he doesn't belong to the general audience anymore, but the show needed him to still be the surrogate because we as the audience know buck.

but it's been six months and the audience needs to catch up on What It Means To Be Queer. so we get... "i'm not sure what that means?"

buuuuuuuuuuuut what if.

---

buck takes the picture for that girl and her friends, gets all weird because he could be perceived to be flirting with a woman while on a date (his gay anniversary dinner with a gay man who is his gay boyfriend). despite his awkwardness, she doesn't quite get that the big dude waiting for him is his date, his boyfriend. she's hot, he's awkward and hot, whatever.

so maybe she follows buck back to his table because she doesn't read them as being on a date! maybe he's a guy who doesn't want to ditch his buddy and like, it's micelli's!!! everyone's having fun, one of her friends really likes big guys, this could totally be something tonight!!

"thanks again for taking the picture for us," photo lady says as she comes back to the table with buck. she pauses and addresses both buck and tommy: 

"um, so we're actually celebrating our friend getting a promotion at work. it's just us girls right now, but would you guys want to join us?" 

maybe buck starts blushing because aaaahhh a lady hitting on him AND tommy, whaaaaat does he saaaaay

but tommy's like, "we'd love to… some other time, but, haha, i'm gay, like kinsey 6 gay, and he's…"

it takes a second, but buck manages: "uh!! his date!!"

"his date to our anniversary dinner," tommy corrects (dryly)

"and i'm still working my way around my number!! kinsey number. it's just for fun."

"oh! omg, congratulations!! and, uh. what's… what scale is that?"

tommy says, cutely, "where you fall on a range of heterosexual and homosexual desire. it's just for fun."

"ooh i'm gonna look that up, it sounds fun! okay, have a good night, guys, and congrats again!!!"

she leaves, their date continues, but buck's uncomfortable. "wow, haha, you just. told her we were on a date."

"you told her we were on a date," tommy says. "i told her we were here for our anniversary. was that a problem?"

"no, just."

"because we're in a restaurant for our anniversary."

"right, but. we're not like, being loud about it."

big fake tommy pout. "you didn't call ahead and tell them? they're not gonna bring us a cake with a giant dick on it, with little sixes for each testicle, and sing something from the village people? it's been so long since i heard macho man in public."

and haha very funny and buck is smiling but he's more uncomfortable than he's smiling. "i just didn't think of it, that's all."

"... which part? the giant dick cake, or the part where i told a stranger that we were on a date?" pause. "did you not want me to tell her?"

"no, uh, it's not that. or maybe it is that. i don't know." buck thinks. "i haven't done it before, you know? like, no one's ever asked."

now tommy's a little guarded. "yeah. you've been passing. you're still butch little buck to the world."

"and you pass, too! like, you're really… you know."

tommy nods. (maybe he kinda wants to jab at buck because he can't say the word masculine or butch or even say he's on a date with a man, but he doesn't.)

"it's funny but i think i don't," tommy says. "maybe it's the paranoia, internalized homophobia, toxic masculinity in the army and the 118 but… i've always felt like i stick out like a sore thumb. i've always felt like people know."

"they really don't, i promise."

tommy tilts his head. "how do you know?"

"i mean… well, okay, i did… tell eddie you were gay."

"what, recently? he didn't notice the couple of dozen times i've called you my boyfriend in the last six months? or the other way around?"

"no, way at the beginning after our last first date. i said something like, you don't hide it but you don't advertise it. he didn't know."

"and you think eddie is everyone?" tommy lets out a big breath. "well, he's not. you're both very adorable and very dense, mr. i didn't know he was jealous until he sprained my ankle and mr. i didn't know i had a crush until i sprained his ankle. other people, they might notice."

buck motions over his shoulder. "they didn't notice. they didn't know until you told them."

"one of them didn't." pause. "is it a problem that i told them?"

"... no, no of course not."

tommy's eyebrows go up. "so now those five women in the los angeles area know you like to fuck men. now what?"

"a man. i like you."

"right. you like me and you like to fuck me."

takes buck a minute to say, "right… well, it's not always…"

tommy laughs. "i meant categorically. kinsey 1? you think i'm your one and done?"

"i don't care about the scale, i care about you."

"it's not about the scale, buddy."

suddenly, perfect timing, a giant plate of spumoni arrives at their table. "from the ladies," the waiter says. there's a piece of paper to go with it that the waiter hands to tommy.

(is this the hot waiter? maybe he hands the paper to tommy and they share a look that buck doesn't like. there's lingering eye contact and it feels weirdly knowing even though they're strangers. probably strangers. does tommy know him? maybe the waiter's gay, too, and maybe he and tommy have hooked up? but tommy would have said something, or will say something. now tommy's unfolding the paper and definitely looking at the waiter's ass as he walks away. it's all A Lot and buck's upset, even as he remembers "it's okay to look."

(but does that apply to tommy, who knows he's gay? because he thought tommy meant it like, it's okay for buck to keep looking at women or still sometimes look at women because he's new to this. but tommy still looks at men even when he's with buck? that's—well okay of course he does, tommy knows what he likes, buck isn't dumb, or so cocky that he thinks he's the only guy tommy ever wants to look at again. tommy likes men. he's gonna look at men, and buck is gonna see him look at men sometimes.

(does anyone else see it, when tommy checks out men?)

"the note's from them?" buck turns around and the girls wave at them. buck weakly gives a thumbs up and turns back to tommy, who's cracking up at the note. he hands it to buck:

sorry for hitting on you during your anniversary date!!! the spumoni here is SO GOOD! also: rachel b. (that's me!!): 2 (does my sister's bachelorette party count?) cindy: 4 (seven sisters school haha) patricia: 00000000 (boring! sorry! and you guys are so hot!!! please reconsider? jk!!!) rachel s.: 5 (i thought i was the token gay and here's CINDY) sarah (recently a divorcée): 1 but that number is going UP happy anniversary!!!!!

"oh, wow," buck says. "that's a lot of information."

tommy gets up and heads over to the women, crouches at their table. buck turns around and watches the way he makes them laugh, the way one of them touches his arm, the little glances they throw buck's way—it's different. it's different from the way tommy was acting with him here. he's louder and… gayer. hands way more… out there. lots of head tilts. one of the women from the other side of the table gets up and hugs tommy tight, and they all call out byeeeeeeeeeee tommyyyyyyy as he comes back. he's turning bright red as he sits with buck again. heads around the restaurant turn towards them and buck feels frozen on the spot.

tommy looks happy, then disappointed. "was that too much?"

"too much what?"

tommy raises his eyebrows.

"you keep doing that, like—"

"did i queen it up too much for you?"

"no i just… didn't know you were like that. or could be, sometimes."

tommy looks like he's about to say something bitchy, but then he puts it away. "that's what i mean. sometimes i'm obvious, even if you can't see it."

"i mean, that was obvious. you just put on a show for everyone."

tommy laughs, shocked surprise, and kind of angry. "and does that upset you?"

"no, of course not!" buck pauses. "did you know that waiter?"

"the waiter?"

"yeah, you were like, looking at him, and you checked him out."

"and? you checked rachel b. out when she was here and i didn't say anything. i said it was okay to look. which of these things is a problem?"

buck checks himself. he doesn't really know what he's mad about, or if he's even mad. he's just uncomfortable. everything feels uncomfortable and weird, and like everyone's looking at him. that waiter knows something about tommy, those girls like tommy more than they like him, and why wouldn't they? tommy was so cool and easy with them, and buck's all weird and awkward with everyone, and their anniversary dinner kind of sucks now.

"are you okay?" tommy asks. "are you gonna make me eat this whole plate of spumoni by myself?" he pauses. "are you jealous of that waiter?"

"i don't know." buck sits back and sulks. "i hate this place. i don't know why we keep coming here."

"well, the pizza's pretty good, this spumoni is great, and the last time we were here, you told eddie we were gonna pick up some hot chicks after we saw our movie." tommy's foot nudges buck's under the table; buck startles. "you move on from that at all? you still wanna go pick up hot chicks? there's five right over your shoulder. they're thinking of hitting up rachel s.'s favorite lesbian bar. they even asked if we wanted to come with them."

buck looks panicked. "did you say yes?" suddenly he remembers himself. "sorry, sorry, i mean—like, women i've dated talk about it all the time, you know, going to gay bars so they don't get hit on."

tommy nods, then leans in: "but they're going to a lesbian bar so they do get hit on." tommy leans back and says, "which is pretty funny."

"is it?"

"isn't it?"

"like…" buck doesn't even know what he wants to say. he doesn't really—he can't picture, exactly, what bothers him. "like what if they do meet someone, you know? some nice lady? and they make out or hook up and then one of them is like, actually sorry this was fun but—"

"so what?" tommy's eyebrows are climbing into his hair again. "you've never hooked up at a bar or club and done that? sorry, this was fun…"

"but they…"

"they need to take it more seriously?"

"yeah. yes. exactly. it's serious business!! it's not just walking into some bar and making out with a—being a woman and making out with a woman and maybe that's your whole thing now, or it's not your thing and—and what if she gets hurt, you know?"

"the hypothetical dyke that will instantly fall in love with one of the kinsey zeros through four and have her heart broken?"

"stop making fun of me, i'm serious."

"i can tell but i don't know what you're serious about." tommy adjusts his chair, sits up straight, but buck notices how he pulls his chair back a little, like he's making more space. space to leave? is he gonna get up and leave because buck is doing too much, or saying the wrong things, or being weird about women, or thinking about women, or not—

"it's really funny, actually," tommy says. "that hypothetical lesbian bar romance is the most i've seen you engage with like, anything gay besides getting your dick in my mouth."

"jesus, tommy, we're in public." buck doesn't even realize he's said something weird until he sees how tommy has gone so quiet and still. "i care about stuff. i engage."

"really? you didn't go to pride."

"i was working, so were you."

"i would have traded shifts if you wanted to go."

buck's uncomfortable again. "did i have to go?"

"of course not, but did you want to go? have you gone before?"

"of course i have," buck says, but he's not sure. he's usually working, and sometimes they get calls to handle something during pride but it's rarely anything weird: dehydration, party drugs gone wrong or too far. they're usually in and out before buck can get much pride done.

"i'm working, usually," buck admits. "but if you wanted to go…"

"it's not really my scene, either, but you didn't feel like… any kind of call? any kind of curiosity? what it would be like to take the day off, go to pride, be there with a boyfriend? like you'd be out there in your little shorts—"

"i don't own little shorts."

tommy smiles and he looks kind of mean, like he got a cheap shot at his expense except buck doesn't get it.

"what? i don't! they make my thighs look too big."

"alright, forget that. but the rest of it. you didn't want to be out with other gay people, showing off your boyfriend, getting shown off by your boyfriend? because i would have." tommy suddenly goes still again. "i would have shown you off."

a real gut punch. "tommy, i didn't know you wanted to go."

"i didn't know how much you didn't want to go."

"it just… it doesn't feel like it's for me! i didn't…"

tommy waits. buck waits. 

"are you bisexual?" tommy asks. "pansexual? both? neither? queer? straight?"

defensively: "i'm not straight, i have a boyfriend."

"and that makes you…"

buck pauses. "i don't know." he looks at tommy, who looks worried.

"do you want to know?"

pause. "i guess i have to."

"you don't have to do anything, but it bugs me that you have a boyfriend and that's all you care about. it bothers me that it's been six months and you've never thought about all the times we've been clocked in public. being seen like that didn't bother you? or did you not notice?"

buck flinches. apparently the latter. "we have?"

"yes, evan. every coffee place or restaurant or bar with a little rainbow outside, and even the ones that don't. two guys head in together, standing close together, flirting with each other—"

"that doesn't mean…" buck hears himself. 

"what? maybe it doesn't mean we're there to check out the glory hole in the back, but it means we're probably a couple. does that bother you? i mean, it clearly does, but did you even realize until now that it bothered you?"

"no! it didn't bother me because it wasn't a big deal. you're making it a big deal. why can't we just go out and have fun? now i have to go around and count how many people think we're gay, or if people even notice, or if i'm being weird and making it obvious i'm with you, or…"

"and, six months late, welcome to my life," tommy says. "seriously, do you want any of this spumoni or what?"

[chippedshake]

prompt request: cherry and bob on their first date WALK WITH ME ON THIS ONE

okay okay so I will definitely be writing this in the near future but for now here's the skeleton of my idea because I'm impatient ok (i've never written either of these characters so bear with me):

we open with a Marcia and Cherry scene

Cherry's getting ready to go on her date with Bob and she's kinda not all that excited because she's gone out with guys before and she always thought they were sweet and smart and nice and whatever but they turned out to just be assholes who were into her because she was pretty and popular

so even though she likes Bob, she can't convince herself that he's different from everyone else

I have developed a whole strategy for how she'll pick out her clothes

I love Marcia so even though she isn't in these bullet points you better believe she's gonna be in the fic

Then Bob appears

Cherry describes like an archetype of what first dates are usually like and Bob will subvert. every. single. point.

like 1st one is the guy always shows up with flowers that are always a pain because they die quickly and Cherry doesn't even like flowers all that much but lo and behold Bob shows up with a chocolate chip cookie from her favourite place

when she asks he says she mentioned once that she doesn't like flowers and finds them depressing and that they ran into each other in the bakery a couple months ago and she said it was her favourite place

Bob is down bad okay

1.5th point because I'm adding this later and don't feel like editing everything: the guy will always say "you look pretty" the moment they see her and Cherry doesn't like it because it feel artificial, like it's just their obligation to say it

Bob trained with Bev (idk if you've seen/heard of the musical but she's a Soc girl they made up to be friends with Cherry and Marcia) about what to say to a girl and compliments her earrings in particular and the colour combination

then the 2nd point is that they always bring her to a way too fancy restaurant that neither of them really like

They go out for a picnic and it's actually a really pretty setting and Bob is a terrible cook so he brought like sandwiches or something that his mom had to help him make

also 3rd point. guaranteed awkward silence when they have nothing to talk about, followed by the guy rambling about himself.

First question Bob asks: what do you wanna work as

and they talk about how Cherry wants to be a kindergarten teacher

then she asks the same question back and he says he wants to be a lawyer

when she asks why he just says his dad's a lawyer

maybe a cute moment where she says he’s his own person? idk

4th point: at some point the guy puts his hand on her thigh or something and she tries to wriggle out as subtly as possible

subverted, as usual

I'm sorry but Bob absolutely will earn the "stood out from the crowd" and "he was sweet" title, okay? In Ponyboy’s words: Cherry's smart. She wouldn't like him just 'cause he's good-looking

5th point: they're ridiculously smooth and are still flirting with her on the date, and it feels like they're trying to conquer her or something and it's incredibly uncomfortable

Bob stutters a bit and messes up and goes back on his words and will accidentally make like fifteen innuendos and apologise each time but Cherry likes it because it makes her feel like he actually likes her and is nervous (that's because it's true mijita)

finally, 6th point: they always try to kiss her goodnight even when she makes it abundantly clear they won't be seeing each other again

Bob actually fucking shakes her hand and goes to head back to his car

They end up hugging goodbye and make sure to coordinate a second date

the end

they're very cute and I love them. I hadn't ever thought about them really so thank you for the ask <3333

[love-toxin]

babysitter -> blake endon

a/n: this was supposed to be my intro piece for blake but better late than never !!

(cws: some alcohol use, blake being slightly inappropriate)

word count: 2.4k

"...He can go down for his nap around noon, he usually gets tired after lunch."

The man whose ad you responded to stands with the four-year-old in question balanced on his hip, the little boy wiggling around in his father's hold as he mimics the thrum of an engine with a little plastic airplane in hand. He's pretty loud, but that's because the cochlear implants he's got in only work so well, if they're even on right now.

Siri, the boy you offered to babysit, is a little more excitable than you thought he'd be–he ran up to you the second the door opened like a madman, totally undeterred by the idea of a stranger in his house, and immediately started pulling on your hand to come see his action figures before his dad could even get out a hello. But you're used to that, and you wouldn't have picked up the phone to call in your services if you didn't think you could handle one rowdy toddler. This thing with his dad, however…you dunno, you can't place it, but something's just different.

Blake had given you the briefest once-over when you showed up at his front door–probably just to make sure you fit the description you gave–but even so, the look in his eyes gave you a tugging sensation at your nerves. Like he was really looking at something else, or maybe even checking you out…but that's just ridiculous. He probably doesn't have a wife considering the distinct lack of a feminine presence in the house, but he might have a girlfriend or another partner that would nip those possibilities in the bud. Oh, and he is a bit older than you, plus he's frustratingly handsome and charming to the point that he's completely out of your league.

He sets down the kid just for him to go running off to his toy box, eyebags dark and prominent as he runs his fingers through his hair tiredly. Yet, when he looks at you, he's inclined to smile a little lopsidedly.

“Thanks again. He's a handful, but he shouldn't give you much trouble. Right, Siri?” He turns to the boy and taps him on the shoulder, and when he whips his little dark-haired head around his father gestures the warning to him. “Right, Siri?”

The little boy fingerspells back. “Yes, papa.” Satisfied, Blake gives him a kiss on the head and stands up to pluck his jacket off the armchair as he walks by, ruffling his hair while you follow him to the front door of the apartment.

“Alright, that should be everything-” He pats his pockets and digs in them for his wallet, from which he starts thumbing out crumpled bills with a dab of his finger on his tongue. “-Twenty, thirty–here, forty.” He claps the money down in your palm and gives it a gentle squeeze. That, paired with a wink from his green eyes as he opens the door has your heart fluttering in your ribcage like a bird thumping on bars. “Anything goes wrong, call the restaurant. I shouldn't be too late.”

“Have a good shift, Mr. Endon.” You smile with bright eyes. Blake lingers in the doorway with his hand on the knob like he's rethinking his leave altogether, but soon enough, he's on his way.

“Thanks, doll. See you soon.” He grins right back, and steps down the hall backwards just to catch one more lingering look at you before turning on his heel and bounding down the corridor to the elevator.

***

Over ten hours later, the sun has set over the horizon outside, and you've only just managed to put the little firecracker to bed.

After lunch, Siri had dashed around the apartment several times in an attempt to get you to chase him–and when you tired out, he'd sat down in the living room and gathered all his toys together to make a sort of kaiju simulator. At least that was simpler for you to entertain, as all you had to do was take a break on the couch to catch your breath and watch the little guy stack up his blocks to make buildings and arrange all his planes and cars on pretend roads, so he could smash through them like godzilla. Once you'd managed to get him to clean up the aftermath of his ruined city and put all his trucks and trains and rubble back into the toy box, he took a while to pass out on the sofa and you had some respite, just as Mr. Endon had promised.

Once he'd expelled all that energy, the late afternoon had gone by in a much calmer state. You put some canned spaghetti on the stove and frozen meatballs in the toaster oven, and after you coaxed him into eating his fill and cleaned up the mess left behind, Siri crawled into your lap and signed that he wanted to watch cartoons. So you did, and he cuddled with you so sweetly you weren't sure he was the same rowdy maniac you'd run after earlier. But all was well, and he went down easier than you expected, though the boy clearly wanted his dad to tuck him in and a few tears were shed when he realized he wouldn't be. Yet, still, he went down like a babe eventually and you bummed out on the couch for an hour now with no sign of Mr. Endon's return.

He said he would be home by 9. You think to yourself, sighing softly as you weave a thread from your sleeve between your fingers boredly. Part of you wants to call the diner, see what's taking so long, but would that be over the line? You have a life, after all. But you're nervous, and unsure, and before long you have the phone to your ear and the line is ringing to the other side.

“Hello?” A woman's voice picks up on the third ring. However tired you feel, she sounds twice as much. “How can I help you?” She tries to put a cheery spin on her words.

“H-Hi, um…is…is Mr. Endon-?”

“Oh–Blake?” You stutter in trying to answer, but she speaks again. “You wouldn't happen to be Blake’s sitter, would you? He said you might call.”

“Uh…” You twist the phone’s cord around your fingers. “...Yeah. Is he, uh–he was just running a bit late, so I was wondering if, y’know, everything’s all right.”

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. Well, uh, he’s fine–we just got hit with a health inspection unexpectedly, so they're doing a deep clean. He tried going home early but, honestly, the kitchen would probably kick his butt if he skipped out.”

“I understand, yeah–that’s fine.” You stammer out. Why didn't he call you? You silently wave the thought away. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It's okay!” She replies, kindness creeping into her voice. “They should be done pretty soon. Want me to tell him you called?”

Just as you're accepting her friendly offer, someone calls out to her; Lil, is that for me? And with a sudden swap of the phone you can hear the huff of Blake's low voice hit the receiver, your hairs raising on your neck at the thought of him getting annoyed with you calling his work. Even though he gave you permission to.

“Hey sweetheart,” He breathes into the phone. Your skin prickles for an entirely different reason at that affectionate nickname. “Sorry, I got caught up. Siri doing okay? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh…yeah, we're fine. Siri's in bed. He ate all his dinner–uh, except for a meatball or two.” Blake laughs gently on the other end.

“That's great. He's never that good for me. He must like you.” The way he sighs betrays the front he's putting up, and that he's really just running on fumes. “Can you hold out just a little longer, honey? I'll be home right away. Ten minutes, tops.”

“No, of course! Don't rush, we're doing okay.”

Honey?

“I'll pay you extra when I get back, promise.”

“It's really okay, Mr. Endon.” Your lips twinge upwards into a smile despite trying not to let it show. “Siri's great. I really don't mind staying longer.”

“You're a gem.” He sighs in relief. “Okay, I'm on my way. See you soon.”

“See you.” The line clicks, and you force yourself to hold in a squeal when you set down the phone. He's really fucking you over, and if it were anyone else you'd be pissed, but how could you be mad when he's so…so…ugh!

Despite trying not to get too excited about it, you hop up off the couch and hurry to the bathroom to check your hair, splash a little water on your face, and clean up as best you can before you hear the key turning in the front door. Your feet pound the wood flooring as you hurry back, and manage to hop over the couch arm and lay back semi-casually just seconds before Blake walks into the front hall of the apartment. He moves to shut the door behind him with his foot, obviously unworried about making noise–it's not like Siri will hear him, anyways. As he hustles into the living room, hair still tied up and away from his face, he stops at the sink to splash some water on his cheeks and wash away the sweat dripping from his forehead. The residue of the hot kitchen lingers on him still when he meets you at the edge of the couch.

“That's my bad, sweetheart.” He breathes, and gently shakes a bag at his side before setting it on the coffee table. “Brought you some food that was left over. There's wine in there too,” He calls over his shoulder, walking back into the kitchen to crack open the cupboards. “Have whatever you like, you can take home the rest. Want a drink?” He taps on a wine glass on the upper shelf. With a shake of your head, he relents and goes for the fridge to crack open a beer.

“Thank you, Mr. Endon. It was really no trouble, Siri's a great kid.” You smile as you stand from the sofa. As if sensing that you're gearing up to leave, Blake steps around the counter to meet you.

“I should be thanking you. It's tough for us right now, and you're really doing me a solid.” He takes a sip from his drink, his green eyes piercing yours for an instant. “I'd like to see you–have you here again, y'know. For Siri.”

“I'd love to.” Oh, now you're really beaming. He must think you're so naïve and too bubbly, but Blake doesn't seem bothered. No, he seems more interested as he leans against the counter, surveying you as his fingertip mindlessly traces the mouth of the can. After a touch too long of just silence, he reaches behind himself and you immediately try to wave off his gesture.

“Really, Mr. Endon, it's fine!” You insist with a warm face. “You don't need to pay me back.” He raises a brow, wallet in hand, and chuckles as he sets his beer down.

“Maybe I can pay you another way, then.” He murmurs with a glint in those piercing eyes.

To say your heart skips would be an understatement, because it jumps into your throat the moment those words leave his mouth. “Ah, you're funny!” Your laugh comes out so awkward and high-pitched you can feel it in the back of your head. There's no fucking way he meant that.

With another beat of silence, Blake finally laughs and flips open the leather pocket, two crisp 20s pinched between his fingers that he presses into your palm. His insistence, paired with your embarrassment, ensures that you clench them in your hand and take the extra pay without much more resistance, and before long you're ushering yourself out of his apartment with a few more pleasantries exchanged before the door finally clicks behind you.

While you make your way down the hall towards the stairs, your heart pounds in your ears so loud you can barely hear anything over it, not the padding of your footsteps or the soft ding of the elevator as you step inside. The bag sags heavily in the crook of your arm–you can feel the bottle of wine in there, a whole bottle it seems like–and what the hell were you thinking? Either that last comment was straight-up harassment or you were an idiot to brush it off like it was nothing. Blake clearly enjoys your company yet you just had to fumble the bag like always, and you shake your head with a sigh as you wonder whether he was really hitting on you or not.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you fumble around to reach for it, finally slipping it out and balancing it as you hold up the bag of food. There's a text from Blake.

- Hey sweets. Thanks again for helping me out. Siri let me know you're his new favourite sitter haha :)

- I need a sitter on wednesday, too, if you're interested?

Without an ounce of hesitation you type out your reply with your thumb, and feel a familiar flutter in your chest as you send off your “of course!” faster than your brain can even catch up. Just as you're registering it, your phone buzzes once more.

- Perfect. Can't wait to see you again <3

- **siri, I meant siri can't wait to see you haha

- But I can't wait either :p

And god, you're so easy. Because despite the fact that you'll have to change your plans, regardless of whether or not you really need another 60 bucks to supervise a reckless toddler in your off time, that last text and that dumb little emoji has you hooked from the jump. You just have to see Blake again, you've got to catch these moments with him whenever you're able–and maybe this time, he won't be joking when he asks you that silly little question of payment.

[lunaicfantastic]

anyway my theories for the bear are: that season 4 will end like season 1--with them announcing the closing of the bear/the beef and the upcoming opening of something new/the bear, that we will find out that Mikey was the one who told Claire about the name of the restaurant being the bear (mb thru a convo btwn Richie and carmy) and this will be the final straw in the clusterfuck of their relationship, at one point carmy will try to burn down the bear, and that Richie will get tickets to go see Taylor Swift with his daughter idk

[howthesleeplesswander]

@sansgout bc Rody wanted to do something sweet 🥺 but naturally in the dumbest way possible X'D

It was really weird to be here so late.

Sneaking into the restaurant after midnight was a new, strange experience that Rody had never expected to have, but he wouldn't let the uncanny vibe stop him! Not when he was on a mission that would make it well worth it.

With the dining room cloaked in darkness, Rody tiptoed at a snail's pace. He didn't think Vincent would still be down here at this hour, but even if not, he was just upstairs. Rody couldn't afford to make a peep if his surprise was going to work. One arm cradled a vase of flowers while the other felt around blindly for obstacles. After what felt like a lifetime, he finally made it to the kitchen without incident. He poked his head in, and, after making sure the coast was clear, ducked into Vincent's...thankfully unlocked office. (He hadn't thought far enough ahead to what he would've done if it hadn't been open.)

Relief rushed through him as the door swung shut. (Strong enough that he didn't question why the light was already on when he entered.) That was the hardest part out of the way—the rest should be a piece of cake! There was a giddy little bounce in his steps as he approached the desk at the center of the room. Some paperwork was strewn across it, so Rody shuffled them into a few messy stacks with his free hand. But once he cleared a space at the center—

The click of the door handle nearly made him jump a foot in the air. He spun around just as it opened, hiding the flowers out of sight with both arms behind his back.

"H-hey, Vince!" he squeaked at a much higher pitch than usual, all while trying to look casual despite the tension stringing his shoulders and how odd it was for him to be here. Still, Rody's smile was warm and genuine, if not a bit strained. He may have been caught in the act, but seeing Vincent was always a happy thing. And besides, he could still save this! All he had to do was play it cool! "What, uh...what are you doing here so late?"

[lususnatura]

i feel like it's fellow rogues would just come to accept at some point that blamore is going to be eating around them at least 40-45% of the time around them, because his metabolism is literally just THAT hyperactive that it pretty much is always carrying snacks on his person. which is,, well, really not so good on one hand. but on the other hand, if blamore likes you, then you may just get free snacks from him... so yay for that??? idk LOL

[midnightmah07]

Just made myself sad by thinking of an au where Daisy is from twst but is an old lady because she was also born at the same time period as og Daisy

Welp. Good night I guess

[belzebong]

Firm believer in Hurley becoming the guardian being his bad ending

[eggmeralda]

just woke up from the best film I've ever watched in my life only to realise it was a dream

[unboundprompts]

advice for a character who grips control like a lifeline. who wants to be in charge of every little thing because whenever they're not in control of something something bad could happen. has happened. they can't let a single variable be wild or in someone else's hands

How to Write a Controlling Character

Backstory Rooted in Trauma or Guilt

This character likely has a history that has ingrained the belief that they must be in control or face devastating consequences. Perhaps they once trusted someone else with something crucial—a promise, a responsibility, or a life-altering choice—and that trust was broken in a way that had lasting repercussions. For example, maybe they lost someone because they weren’t “careful enough,” or they experienced a betrayal when they trusted another person’s plan.

They might frequently flash back to this moment, possibly catching themselves thinking, If only I’d been the one in control, this wouldn’t have happened. This memory fuels their need to keep a tight grip on everything, especially if they’re in high-stakes situations.

Rigid Daily Routines and Habits

This character’s day is probably packed with small rituals and routines that give them a sense of security. From double-checking door locks to setting multiple alarms, they rely on routines to give themselves a sense of order. In fact, they might be nearly ritualistic about small actions—checking emails three times before sending, never leaving a task halfway finished, or meticulously arranging their workspace.

Even something as simple as making coffee can become a precise process. If someone moves one of their tools or a file from their desk, they may feel a spike of frustration or even anxiety, seeing it as a disruption to their personal “system.” They could feel that control in their daily life is the only thing keeping chaos at bay.

Intensely Observant of Details and Mistakes

They are hyperaware of mistakes or inefficiencies in others, mentally cataloging things like a coworker’s slight lateness or a friend’s disorganization. They may feel a sense of superiority (or frustration) over people who don’t “have it together” and take it upon themselves to organize or “fix” things for others.

In conversation, they might cut people off or “correct” them even over small points, often justifying this to themselves as necessary. For instance, if someone shares a plan that seems half-formed, this character could immediately dive in, pointing out potential problems or filling in details.

Controlling Relationships and Social Situations

This character struggles in relationships where they aren’t the dominant or organizing force. They might instinctively take over when making plans with friends, micromanaging even casual hangouts to make sure everything goes “right.” For example, they might pick the restaurant, plan the travel route, and check weather forecasts—assuming that if they don’t, no one else will think of these things.

When someone resists their attempts at control, they can respond defensively, often turning cold or resentful, unable to understand why anyone wouldn’t want them to manage the situation. Statements like, “Fine, but don’t blame me if this doesn’t go well,” are frequent in their interactions.

Extreme Anxiety or Panic When Control Is Taken Away

When things go beyond their reach, this character might experience panic, as if they’re suddenly powerless. For instance, if an unexpected roadblock prevents them from handling a task (like a canceled flight they needed to board, or a plan that falls apart), they might spend hours trying to regain control, calling every contact or frantically exploring alternatives.

Their reaction may feel extreme to others. Even minor setbacks—such as a colleague taking initiative on a project or a friend planning something without consulting them—can trigger a disproportionate response, like clenching their fists, pacing, or silently stewing as they feel the situation “slipping.”

Inability to Accept Help or Collaboration

Their controlling nature makes it hard for them to collaborate, as they believe their methods are the only ones that work. For them, accepting help feels like an admission of weakness or failure, so they rarely delegate or ask for assistance. If they do reluctantly accept help, they are constantly supervising or “suggesting” things, making it feel more like they’re still in charge.

In a team setting, they might take on all the major tasks, either out of distrust in others’ abilities or a feeling that no one will match their standards. Their motto could be something like, “If you want something done right, do it yourself,” even if that means working late or burning out.

Reluctance to Show Vulnerability or Need

Since vulnerability and control rarely coexist for them, they avoid showing weakness at all costs, preferring to mask stress or struggles as “just part of the job.” If they do become overwhelmed, they’re more likely to shut people out, saying, “I’ve got it handled,” even if it’s far from true.

When people push them to let go or share the load, they might lash out, accusing others of “just not understanding.” They often see their intense responsibility as a form of sacrifice, justifying their behavior with, “If I don’t handle this, who will?”

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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

Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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

Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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

A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[auclairedetoru]

Namami has only been seeing y/n for a month but he's already so smitten.

The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she carries herself, her confidence, the way she applies her makeup, the colours she gets on her nails, the pretty outfits she wears, her facial expressions, everything. He's obsessed with her.

He met her at a little bookstore. He mostly goes there to browse and relax after long and tiring shifts. He enjoys the smell of the books and the overall atmosphere, sometimes he ends up picking something that pricks his interest.

Y/n was there doing the same thing when she saw him holding one of her favourite books. She couldn't help but comment on his amazing choice. He thanked her and asked her if she liked it. She let him know that it's a top pick for her but not number one. He proceeded to ask which book she liked the most. One thing led to another and he ended up leaving the store with her number saved on his phone.

After he noticed that not only has he been talking to her for a week straight, but he also always looked forward to reading her texts, answering her calls and talking on the phone, he decided to ask her on a date.

Namami did not go on many dates before. But when he did, he'd always asked his coworker Gojo to call him at a specific time, if he was enjoying the date he would tell the person he's with that it's just work related and not to worry about it, but if he wasn't he would tell them that he's needed for an emergency and he would pay for their cab and make sure they make it home safe before letting them down gently the next time he talks to them. Thankfully he only did the latter once when the person was being borderline creepy and he felt unsafe.

The date with y/n was a first for him. After she agreed, he told her about the time and location, planning on taking her to a nice restaurant, a classic. He was surprised when she disagreed and asked if he'd be comfortable with coming over to her house. She told him that she loved cooking but never got the chance to make big meals. Namami agreed, and it made his heart swell with happiness when she told him she was excited for their date.

The date was nothing less than perfect. He immediately felt at home the moment he stepped foot in her apartment, he particularly loved that she uses small lights instead of overhead ones, something he does at his apartment as well. She set the table beautifully, with candles and some of the most unique tableware. The food was a whole different story. He could not believe he was eating all that for free. He has been to many fancy restaurants, but none of them compared to her cooking.

When Namami asked if it was okay for him to ask her a couple of questions to see if they were on the same page when it comes to the future if they're planning on sharing one, he was surprised again when she said she was glad he brought up that topic because she had her own questions as well. Namami immediately knew that this would turn out for the best because his past dates always either tried to dodge this discussion or told him he was rushing things.

He first asked her about marriage. She told him that she wants to get married and that it's definitely something she hopes would happen in the future when she's ready, he agreed. He asked her if she'd want them to live together with a partner, she said yes but not immediately, maybe one and half to two years into the relationship, he agreed. She asked him about kids and if he sees himself being a father in the future, he said yes but he wants kids not immediately after marriage but to wait a year or two before trying, she agreed. She asked him about how he would handle disagreements and arguments, he told her that he was a very calm person and enjoys the peace communication brings, so he'd sit with his partner and figure out the problem and how to resolve it, she agrees.

Namami started to feel giddy when he realised they have both agreed to many of each other's answers and even shared similar opinions. Would she be the one he spends forever with? The thought didn't seem so bad at the moment, he hoped to get his answer quickly.

But he wasn't expecting it to happen within a month.

They discovered they shared the same route on their way to work and began walking it together. Nanami started to look forward to seeing her. Every morning, she greets him with a smile and "hi, Ken!" which he started responding to with "hi, Barbie" after watching the Barbie movie, she always giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. He buys her her favourite boba and she drinks it while they walk and talk about whatever comes to mind. He drops her off at work since it's closer than his, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead that she started calling her "good luck kiss". They even spend their lunch breaks together by talking through facetime. He was the type to skip that free time to get more work done, but he stopped doing that in favour of talking to his favourite girl.

He started looking forward to seeing her and talking to her. Weekends have become boring, sure they text, but it's not like hearing her voice, even through the phone speaker. She consumed his brain, she became his first thought in the morning and his last before bed. Thankfully, Nanami isn't dumb, and he realised he is in fact falling in love.

He didn't want to play around, after all, they're both serious about this relationship. He plans on confessing, letting her know his true feelings. It's a scary thought, something he has never done before, and he hopes she wouldn't reject him given that he fell for her fast when they both agreed this would be a "getting to know each other" phase. But he can't control how he feels about her, she makes him look forward to the future, as long as she is a part of it.

It's the weekend, Nanami invited her over in the afternoon to watch movies and hang out at his apartment, but despite what the weather forecast said, the somewhat sunny morning quickly developed into a stormy evening, one that was strong enough for him to turn the hang out into a sleepover. He gave her a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt to get comfortable and put the frozen pizza he has for emergencies in the oven.

They're sitting on the couch, a movie long forgotten on TV as y/n tells him a very interesting work story. He's trying to focus, he really is, but the way she's so close to him, her folded legs almost on top of his, her hair wrapped around his fingers as he plays with the strands, the way her face lights up when she remembers a detail, it's all so precious.

“and then she got mad and-”

“I love you.”

Y/n stops talking and he's instantly regretting his words. They literally slipped out of his mouth, he had no control over them. It's like she pressed a botton and they came out. He starts fearing the worst and his brain starts telling him that he made things awkward and uncomfortable for her and she can't even escape because there's a storm outside. Fuck... Why did he need to rush? Everything has been going perfectly, and now he ruined it. He's gonna have to find a way to make up for this. He'll apologize a billion times if needed, but he can't afford to lose her.

“Ken, I love you too, so much, but I need to finish the story.”

Huh-

“Right. Sorry, darling. Please continue, I'm all ears.”

He isn't all ears, he can't be all ears, because he can hear how fast his heart is beating and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. She said it back, she loves him, so much too! Is he dreaming, is it still the night before and he hasn't called her yet to invite her over? No. It can't be. He wants this to be real... and it is, everything is real. The way she's holding on to his fingers is real, the way she's excitedly telling him the rest of her story is real, the way he's holding back from smiling so hard is real, the way the pizza smell is filling the room is real.

“oh shit, the pizza.”

Nanami bolts to the kitchen, quickly grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the pizza out just in time. When he quickly glaces towards the living room, he can see y/n hunched over and squealing into the pillow, her feet kicking slightly. He chuckles. She really tried to play it like his words did not affect her the way they affected him, but it seems like their feelings are mutual in every way possible.

Nanami is somehow even more excited for forever with her now.

[obsesssedblerd]

au where older brother! sukuna realizes just how much he loves his little brother when he's sick.

--

Sukuna is always pretending that he doesn't care for his younger brother, Yuuji. Always throws him around when they're play fighting, jumps out and scares him just because he thinks it's funny, and eats his snacks to get a rise out of him. Typical mean older brother behavior.

But then one morning, it takes the five year-old a little too long to get out of bed.

Sukuna immediately notices how quiet he is and the look of discomfort on his face when he finally makes it to the table for breakfast. Yuuji is usually so quick to devour his food, but today, he's not even touching it, even though it's his favorite breakfast that Sukuna makes for him all of the time despite his grumpy complaints.

"Eat your food, brat. If you keep waiting, it'll get cold," Sukuna grumbles as he nudges the fork next to the boy's plate.

Yuuji silently grabs the fork, unaware of his oldest brother watching him like a hawk. He gathers a forkful of food but drops it with a barely-audible whimper, as if he were in pain. Sukuna has never heard him make that sound before, and his gut twists as his mind starts to run wild. "Can't," he whines. "Don't feel good, Kuna."

"Don't feel good how? If you're—" The room resounds with his loud gasp when Yuuji suddenly whips around faces the ground and vomits. Sukuna's arm shoots forward to stop the young boy from falling off of the chair and onto the floor. "Shit," he hisses through his teeth.

Once he was finished, Yuuji faces him. His labored breathing, teary eyes and trembling body made Sukuna's heart ache within his ribs. "I'm sorry," Yuuji says, and he makes that pained, whimpering sound again. "Know you hate w-when I make a mess. My tummy hurts."

"No, 's okay," Sukuna whispers as he rubs his back in an attempt to comfort him. His crimson eyes are still wide, and his heart is beating so fast and so loud that he can hear it in his ears. "You're okay. It can be cleaned up. Do you feel better?"

Yuuji shakes his head quietly. Sukuna tries to get Yuuji to go to his room to lay down, but he struggles to leave the table. So, he gently lifts him into his arms, avoiding the mess on the floor and walks down the hallway. Sukuna stops by the bathroom and has him rinse his mouth with some mouthwash, then makes it to Yuuji's bedroom and lays him in bed.

"Just stay here, okay? Hey, look, here's your tiger!" Sukuna holds up Yuuji's favorite stuffed animal to try and cheer him up, and his heart sinks when the kid doesn't react excitedly as he usually does. He doesn't gasp happily, his eyes don't light up, and he doesn't smile. Yuuji just weakly tugs the tiger towards him and cuddles against it with a low whine.

"If you need to throw up again, use this bucket, okay? I'll be back in a little bit." Sukuna places an empty trash can next to Yuuji's bed, then leaves his room, going straight back to the kitchen so he can find the cause of his sickness. His mind races as he goes through the contents of the fridge.

He said his stomach hurts. It had to have been something he ate yesterday. Breakfast was the same as usual, we went to that restaurant for lunch, and I made dinner yesterday. The meat was cooked all the way through and the vegetables were fresh. So, maybe it was what he ate at that restaurant for lunch? What could've made him throw up?

Shit, speaking of, he still needed to clean the mess from earlier. He closes the fridge, cleans up the floor, then looks at Yuuji's untouched plate of food. He had to get him to eat somehow.

As Sukuna's putting away the cleaning supplies, he hears Yuuji whine again. He drops what's in his hands and rushes back into his room, only to wince when sees him coughing after throwing up into the bucket he left. Like before, Yuuji frantically apologizes, even though he's begun crying because of the discomfort. "Why are you apologizing, brat? You got into the bucket, so..." Sukuna trails off as he starts thinking about it.

He's apologizing so much because I shout at him so much.

Any little mess, any little mistake that kids his age usually make, any accident at all, and Sukuna would get upset at him. Though Yuuji loves Sukuna and isn't afraid to show it, he's developed a habit of apologizing for every little thing, and it's led to this; him, telling him that he's sorry even though he's sick.

The revelation has him feeling a bit nauseous now. He looks down at his baby brother, who's now laying on his bed with his eyes shut and sniffling, and soothingly strokes his head. "I'm sorry, Yuuji," Sukuna's apology is too quiet, and since Yuuji is exhausted and half-asleep, he doesn't hear it. "I'm gonna help you get better. Promise."

Yuuji takes a small nap as Sukuna frantically searches the internet for an answer, each click only adding to his fear and anxiety. Over the next few hours, Yuuji cycles between refusing food, throwing up, and sleeping. Sukuna knew that he was going to have to get him to a hospital, and he knows how much Yuuji hates hospitals since his grandfather passed away. It would only add to the boy's discomfort.

But he didn't have a choice. If this kept up, it would only get worse. He hasn't eaten anything. As he cleaned up another accident that Yuuji had, all he could think of was how much he missed hearing him laugh as he chased him around, his mischievous giggles as he popped him with rubber bands or drawing stick figures and trying his best to get his tattoos right. Seeing him so sick, so weak, and hearing him cry like this was gut-wrenching.

He's reaching for his phone. Since his car is currently in the shop for repairs—thanks, Gojo—, he's going to need to ask someone for help. Choso is out of town, so there's no point in calling him. But, he does know someone else who will drop everything for Yuuji.

He calls you.

---

pt. 2 coming soon. promise. <3

[were--ralph]

why exactly do you dislike generative art so much? i know its been misused by some folks, but like, why blame a tool because it gets used by shitty people? Why not just... blame the people who are shitty? I mean this in genuinely good faith, you seem like a pretty nice guy normally, but i guess it just makes me confused how... severe? your reactions are sometimes to it. There's a lot of nuance to conversation about it, and by folks a lot smarter than I (I suggest checking out the Are We Art Yet or "AWAY" group! They've got a lot on their page about the ethical use of Image generation software by individuals, and it really helped explain some things I was confused about). I know on my end, it made me think about why I personally was so reactive about Who was allowed to make art and How/Why. Again, all this in good faith, and I'm not asking you to like, Explain yourself or anything- If you just read this and decide to delete it instead of answering, all good! I just hope maybe you'll look into *why* some people advocate for generative software as strongly as they do, and listen to what they have to say about things -🦜

if Ai genuinely generated its own content I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it, however what Ai currently does is scrape other people's art, collect it, and then build something based off of others stolen works without crediting them. It's like. stealing other peoples art, mashing it together, then saying "this is mine i can not only profit of it but i can use it to cut costs in other industries.

this is more evident by people not "making" art but instead using prompts. Its like going to McDonalds and saying "Burger. Big, Juicy, etc, etc" then instead of a worker making the burger it uses an algorithm to build a burger based off of several restaurant's recepies.

example

the left is AI art, the right is one of the artists (Lindong) who it pulled the art style from. it's literally mass producing someone's artstyle by taking their art then using an algorithm to rebuild it in any context. this is even more apparent when you see ai art also tries to recreate artists watermarks and generally blends them together making it unintelligible.

Aside from that theres a lot of other ethical problems with it including generating pretty awful content, including but not limited to cp. It also uses a lot of processing power and apparently water? I haven't caught up on the newer developements i've been depressed about it tbh

Then aside from those, studios are leaning towards Ai generation to replace having to pay people. I've seen professional voice actors complain on twitter that they haven't gotten as much work since ai voice generation started, artists are being cut down and replaced by ai art then having the remaining artists fix any errors in the ai art.

Even beyond those things are the potential for misinformation. Here's an experiment: Which of these two are ai generated?

ready?

These two are both entirely ai generated. I have no idea if they're real people, but in a few months you could ai generate a Biden sex scandal, you could generate politics in whatever situation you want, you can generate popular streamers nude, whatever. and worse yet is ai generated video is already being developed and it doesn't look bad.

I posted on this already but as of right now it only needs one clear frame of a body and it can generate motion. yeah there are issues but it's been like two years since ai development started being taken seriously and we've gotten to this point already. within another two years it'll be close to perfected. There was even tests done with tiktokers and it works. it just fucking works.

There is genuinely not one upside to ai art. at all. it's theft, it's harming peoples lives, its harming the environment, its cutting jobs back and hurting the economy, it's invading peoples privacy, its making pedophilia accessible, and more. it's a plague and there's no vaccine for it. And all because people don't want to take a year to learn anatomy.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)