#misses teaching but doesn't have the time or money to back to school

[awaylaughing]

Venetia Blue, my MC from @barbwritesstuff very wonderful werewolf action-adventure-romance, Blood Moon. It has amazing characters who are dynamic, flawed and deeply lovable with a variety of personalities and beliefs; it has paranormal politics of several flavours; it has magic and amazing side characters that are impossible not to love; and it has a terrific end-game showdown that is very satisfying. I've been kicking my feet and giggling, gasping in outrage, and generally enjoying the variation within the story for a few days now, and Venetia's been the winner of "most canonical run". A slightly babbly profile under the cut

Name: Venetia Jaqueline Blue

Pronouns: She/Her

Height: 155.5cm/5'1"

Age: 26

Appearance: a short, curvy woman with fair, freckled skin and green eyes. Her hair is a natural light blonde, slightly wavy, falling to about her collar bones. She usually wears in a single braid or if she takes the time, vintage waves.

Venetia prefers fairly practical dress, with a lot of purple, brown, and denim. She can be easy to spot on cooler days though, thanks to a strange and distinctly quirky patchwork jacket she likes to wear (she made it herself).

As a wolf, Venetia somewhat curiously most resembles a Husdon Bay Wolf, with a smaller build and light yellow-and-white colouring. The first time she shifted in front of the pack Marco declared her "barely toasted marshmallow" coloured.

Biography

Born on Oct. 31st, 1993 to a small but relatively wealthy clan Venetia's childhood was very pleasant. Owning a private fig farm, the pack managed to keep well funded without interacting much with the outside world, bar farmer's market's and deliver drivers come the advent of internet selling.

Venetia herself grew up relatively alone, a quirk of the pack's generations meaning she was born a decade behind the older children and a decade before the youngest. She spent much of her time with the pack elders, who were happy to encourage a voracious learner. They encouraged her so much in fact Venetia was the first in the pack to attend post-secondary school. She left school after only two years however, as the pack's official educator passed somewhat unexpectedly leaving behind several young students.

Venetia served as the pack educator herself for three years, a job that was a good fit as she's always liked children. It all came crashing down however one day when she returned from an early-morning hunt-slash-run. When she got back, armed with a couple of pheasants, she found only the smell of death and rotting flowers, an unusual heavy frost, and a damning silence.

Venetia spent the next three years as a stray, haunted by a formless loss. She preoccupied herself initially with dead-end investigations, which eventually gave way to her disappearing into a national park. She came back to herself after three months in her wolf form, when she found herself following not a deer or rabbit, but an unwitting camping family. Horrified, that was the moment that lead to her core conviction:

She's a person, not a monster and she will not the wolf of the moon win.

Not that Venetia is a self-hating werewolf, no she quite likes her wolf, so long as it's her and not the moon driving her. It's a balance she didn't really find until Alek and the pack accepted her in however, for the preceding two and a half years in fact Venetia resisted shifting except for moons for the most part.

During those years, she coped with her loneliness the only way she knew how: hobbies. Sewing, car repair, fixing radios, carving, learning French, etc. Venetia jumped from item to item, stubbornly conquering skills and projects before moving on to the newest thing. This does make her a very handy packmate: it's likely that even if Venetia doesn't have an exact skill needed for an odd job, she something transferable (and she's great at finding resources to help her learn).

In the city, Venetia saw it as a sort of job to really help out as her time as a stray often meant coming into bigger cities to avoid wandering into another pack's territory. Her decision to try for Alpha--and the reason she got it, was similar. Smart and patient, Venetia's only priority was keeping the pack together and thriving, even when she only had a handful of moons with the pack under her belt.

Fun Facts

her native language is Welsh, she didn't learn English until she was around 12 years old

her mother named for a novel she once read, despite hating the novel itself

grew up on the coast so has a taste for fish and shellfish

worked at over 32 different places during her stray-days, but the bulk of these (more than half) were "work for board" style planting/harvesting operations

her longest stray-days job was as a yoga instructor at a Wiccan run spa-retreat, they were very sympathetic to her need to take full moons off

is allergic to bug bites, to her IMMENSE frustration

[kaibutsushidousha]

Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024

Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.

My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?

Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.

Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.

Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.

Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.

Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.

Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.

Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.

Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.

No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.

[highhhfiveee]

Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime

oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜

to crumble

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n and mike find their relationship at a dead end. wc: 2.3k tags: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mdni. part 2 here: 🏳️

all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.

you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.

in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility. 

every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched. 

you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice. 

you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house. 

his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck. 

they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one. 

"missed you," you whisper.

"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something. 

you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless. 

"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness. 

"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?" 

you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.

sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day. 

he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy". 

for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions. 

mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting." 

mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9. 

abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."

you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it. 

you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you. 

you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike. 

you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas. 

mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep. 

for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't. 

you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.

you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work. 

mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?" 

mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first. 

you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.

mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.

you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered. 

"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"

"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again." 

it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside. 

you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription. 

you argue with him before work sometimes.

"what do you need ambien for?"

"i can't sleep." 

"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."

"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."

"what time do you take it?"

"i don't know, y/n."

"why are you lying to me?"

"i'm not." 

"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?" 

he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia. 

you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose. 

you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.

the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.

he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.

"i think abby's asleep already."

you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you." 

"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy." 

"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly. 

"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."

you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face. 

his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--" 

he leaves without another word. 

how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak. 

for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care. 

you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore. 

you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.

he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you. 

mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.

this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.

the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.

a prequel of sorts : x

THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[luveline]

Hii

Whenever you have time could you please do more single dad!Spencer. It’s just too cute and it really warms my heart how you write it.

tysm ♡ dad!spencer and his daughter amanda find their reunion unexpectedly interrupted when you need a place to stay the night. fem!reader, 3.4k

Spencer doesn't mind how tactile Amanda is. If anything, he loves it, content to have her sitting in his lap or on his hip, anywhere he goes and anywhere she wants to be. He tries to get in as much affectionate time with her as he can when he's home to make up for his days away. 

He doesn't like missing her, but he loves coming home. Amy sits on his stomach while Spencer lays on the couch, using his thighs as a backboard while they both fail to pay attention to the kids cartoons on their TV. 

"Were you good for Mrs. Gomorrah?" he asks, though he knows she was. He had to live through the agony that was teaching Mrs. Gomorrah how to text on a cell phone he bought for her years ago, but it was worth it to get those incremental updates that he relies on every day to get to the next without catching a flight home.

Amy had pizza 

Amy misses you. She said she is kissing you through my phone

Wants a new dress for school party tonight, emergency money OK to use? said she loves you 

Aaskkk k k o 

Sorry, accidentally texted you, Amanda made dinner tonight [photo]

The text messages help being far away feel less like torture. Spencer loves his job but he wonders if he should love it less, sometimes, when Mrs. Gomorrah remembers how to send photos, or when he can make it back to the hotel before bed time and call Amy.

But here she is in the flesh. Spencer doesn't worry about work when she's holding his hand. 

"I was good," she confirms, wiping hair from her face with a blue sleeve. She's in her pyjamas at three thirty. Spencer's in his matching set, blue long sleeve t-shirts with two dogs —a grown up and a puppy, seemingly a dad dog and his daughter— on the shirt and miniature dogs on the pants. "Promise. We did fruit kebabs last night." 

Spencer saw photos, but he still says, "Yeah? What fruits did you have? You know, strawberries will be extra yummy again soon because they're back in season." 

"We had strawberries, and bananas, and the green one, kiwi." She puts one of her feet up on his chest. He makes wide eyes at it to hear her giggle. "And with chocolate and maple syrup, it was really yummy." 

"We should make Tanghulu." 

This is a new word for Amy. "Tanghulu?" 

"It started with a berry called Chinese hawthorn, but now people use lots of different fruits. You make a fruit kebab, but instead of chocolate, you dip the fruit into hot sugar and it goes hard as it cools like rock candy, and you have good strong teeth, so you could eat it no problem." 

"It turns the fruit into candy?" she asks, wiggling her toes. 

"Kind of." Spencer covers her foot with his hand unthinkingly. She looks tired already though it's only the afternoon. She gets very tired when Spencer comes home, like she'd been waiting. "Do you want to have a nap with me, sweetpea?" 

"No, I don't think so."

Spencer made a mistake when she was younger. He thought leaving while she was sleeping would make it easier to say goodbye. It was for him, but Amy didn't sleep or eat right for days, and Spencer had to come home before the case was over to stop her from making herself sick. They've worked on it, Spencer never ever leaves without saying goodbye, but she still gets scared to sleep when they're together sometimes. 

He ushers her forward. "Come here," he says, "quick, give me a hug." She flops forward and Spencer arranges her into a cuddle, hand against her hair, his nose pressed to her forehead. "I missed you." 

"Missed you more," she says. 

"Not true. I missed you so much." 

"Don't go away again for a day," she says. 

"I'm staying home for a whole week. Maybe longer, okay? But I promise you, seven whole days no matter what." And he means it. The only thing that could change his mind is a mass murder situation, but otherwise, they'll have to make it work without him. He hates to say that kind of thing, but he has to say it, because Amy is his first priority. 

She relaxes into his arms. "Okay." 

His phone rings, because of course it does. Amy frowns her displeasure with tears shining silver in her eyes. Spencer shakes his head at her, "I'm not going, Ames. I promised. I won't answer anybody, this week is just going to be me and you." 

She glares at the phone and rests her chubby cheek on his chest. Spencer wonders if it's uncomfortable considering his lack of padding and sits up with an arm behind her seatbelting her to his front. "Let's go watch TV in bed." 

Her hands grab at the back of his shirt. "Bring your phone, dad," she says. 

Spencer kisses the side of her head. "No, I told you already, I'm not going." 

"What if Mrs. Gomorrah wants to come for dinner?" she asks, her voice smaller, sleepy. She rubs her face into his front. 

It's a good point. Spencer picks up his phone to check if it was her and frowns at the missed call. It's you. You've texted him too. 

"It's Y/N," he says. 

Amy knows you because whenever he's had to bring her with him (not often, but occasionally on regular work days when there's school reset days), you're very, very kind to her. You're not sure of yourself around kids but it doesn't matter, you let Amy sit with you if she wants to and you always talk to her with care, offer her snacks, anything that you can share. 

It's why he calls you back. That, and you're a nice friend. 

— 

You're feeling about as ashamed and sheepish as a girl can be as you take the elevator up to Spencer's floor. You don't want to impose on anybody, but you'd rather have died than ask Hotch, JJ's taking a vacation in Santa Monica, Penelope's on a conference with Kevin, Emily chose to use her week on an undisclosed trip, and Morgan was similarly off the radar. 

And you know Spencer has Amanda, you know they've been apart for longer than they've been together this month, and you hate interrupting their time together, but… you couldn't stay home no matter how badly you wanted to. Stupid landlord. Stupid cockroaches and stupid fumigation tents.

You carry your go bag with nothing but a week's worth of dirty clothes and your wallet. Your phone is about to die and you'd really wanted, more than anything, to crawl into bed and sleep the daytime away. 

You've never been to Spencer's apartment despite knowing him well, and liking him more. You knock on the door, apartment 305B. You're dead on your feet at this point, exhausted by the jet ride home, the commute to your apartment, the subsequent ten minutes spent crying on the sidewalk, and the next half hour debating if you could bother Spencer. Maybe you should've got a hotel, but it was already getting late and you just needed something familiar. Selfishly, you needed someone you knew after such a shitty case. 

"Hello," Spencer says, opening the door with a familiar girl held in his arms, "don't mind my jacket." 

Amy's clearly sleeping, tiny snores echoing from near his neck. It's cute, but it makes you feel much worse. "I'm sorry–" 

He doesn't let you apologise, "Are you kidding? What were you gonna do? We're excited to have you." He's kind of talking to you like Amy's still awake, enthusiastic whisper-shouting as he pulls you inside. 

"It's just for tonight, I promise. They said I'll be able to  back in by evening tomorrow," you say, holding your bag to your chest. You blink at him as you follow him to the kitchen. "Are you wearing matching pyjamas?" 

"You came over last minute!" he defends with a laugh. 

Spencer opens his hand for your bag and puts it behind a steaming bowl of soup. "Oh, were you guys eating dinner?" you ask. 

"No, that's for you. I'm gonna put Amy in bed and then I can do your laundry. Did you need a hug?" 

"What?" 

Spencer smiles at you. "I thought maybe you're having a bad day." He offers his empty arm and you don't know how to say no, don't want to, careful not to bump into Amy as you curl your arm behind his back. "We're happy to have you. You could stay all week and that would be fine. Did they really give you no warning?" 

"I called my landlord and he laughed and then kind of got quiet. I think he forgets that I live there." 

Spencer pulls away and puts a hand on Amy's back. She's very slight like Spencer but if she were any older he'd struggle to carry her for as long as he has. You can see the fatigue trembling in his left arm. "It's not legal for him to leave you with nowhere to stay, and without any notice. You could ask Hotch–" 

"It's okay." You gesture to Amy's face. "She's getting so big." 

"And heavy. Be back in a few. Eat on the couch if you want to." 

You wouldn't. Spencer takes Amy into one room off of the main room, and then comes back to grab your laundry before disappearing into another. His apartment is a fun but odd layout, the door leading into a living room slash kitchen with a dining table, then opening out left and right, bedrooms toward the back of the apartment and a bathroom behind. It reminds you of a flower, that central hub of life and the petals curling outward. 

You pick up your spoon cautiously. He definitely said the food was for you, but it's so strange to be greeted with a meal, you can't remember the last time someone made sure you had something to eat. 

Spencer doesn't attract your attention until he's pulling up a chair next to you with two glasses set on the table. "I put your pyjamas on quick wash. And your, uh, your grey bag." 

Your grey bag is a little net bag full of delicates. You try to be adult about it, but it's so super awkward that you end up laughing aloud, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. I just put the entire bag in, like, intact." 

You believe that, but you infer from the tightness of his voice that he's worried you'll think he's weird. Honestly, he's just nice, even if it's awkward. Everybody wears underwear. "That's what it's for," you say. 

"Do you think they make those in a bigger size? Amy's vests get tangled sometimes because the straps are skinny, that would be useful." 

"I'm sure they do," you say, toying with your spoon. "I… really don't know how to say thank you. I know we're friends, but it's different. To let me stay."

"When I was a kid I didn't have many friends. By high school I didn't have one. So I never got to have sleepovers until Amanda. And she's my best friend, but she's six, so…" 

You both laugh suddenly, beaming at one another in your wrinkled, mismatched clothes. 

You finish your meal through lighthearted conversation. Spencer takes your dish for the sink and you both move to the couch to watch TV. 

Clifford the Big Red Dog plays on mute. "I know you're thrilled to watch something this intellectually tantalising, but maybe we should watch a movie. There's a guide under the cushion," Spencer says. 

You dig for the guide but wherever he thinks it is, it isn't. 

"Doesn't matter. Mrs. Gomorrah will have one, I'll take her some dinner at the same time. Would you keep your ear on Amy? She might wake up."

He makes a tray for Mrs. Gomorrah, a neighbour and good friend of his. You've met her once when she brought Amy into the office, an Italian-American woman who's black and silver hair bounced when she talked. Beside his mother living in a sanitarium in Nevada, and his small daughter, Mrs. Gomorrah is Spencer's only family. He treats her accordingly. 

The washing machine starts to beep a few minutes after he's left. You spring from the couch and track down his washer and dryer, transferring your damp wash into the dryer and frowning at the machine's strange settings.

"Daddy?" a small voice calls. Sharper, unhappy, "Daddy?" 

"Amy!" you say, moving from your crouch to stand in the doorway. "Hi, honey! Your dad just went to give Mrs. Gomorrah some dinner." 

Amy squints at you. "Miss Y/N?" 

"Hi," you say tentatively. "My house is kind of broken for a bit and I asked your dad if I can stay the night." You bend to meet her eyes properly. "Would that be okay with you?" 

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah, please stay. Daddy's friends never come over." 

"Did you need something, honey? I can help." 

"No… You're sure he's at Mrs. Gomorrah's?" 

"Definitely one hundred percent positive. He can't go to work without me, can he?" 

Amy shrugs little shoulders. "I guess not." 

You can't help laughing at her. With the sound of the dryer bumping behind you, you meet Amy near the dining table and touch her shoulder gently to prompt her toward the couch. She jumps up onto the seat with the most cushions and you sit beside her. You and Spencer never managed to pick a movie, so the kids channel still plays on mute. 

"How do you turn it up?" you ask, offering her the remote hopelessly. 

Amy sidles against your side and points. You click the small white speaker button, greeted by the barks of another episode of Clifford. 

"Is this one okay?" you ask. 

"I love Clifford."

It can't be two minutes before she rests her head against your arm, her hand locking over the crook of your elbow. 

You're not sure what to do. She's Spencer's kid, so she probably does. "Do you want a cuddle?" you ask her. You'd be happy to give her one, but you don't know what's okay with her. 

"Please." 

You hang your arm across her shoulders and behind her back, stroking a tentative and short line into her arm, just once. "These are nice pyjamas, Amy. I saw your dad has the same ones." They're soft under your arm. Her hair brushes your wrist as she turns her head to crinkle her nose at you. 

"Thank you. Me and dad have all matching pyjamas," she says proudly. 

"All?" 

"Well, maybe not all. But lots." 

She hums and shuffles closer to your chest. It felt odd at first —although Amy has sat in your lap at your desk at work, and even given you a hug on her birthday to say thank you for the books and candies, you're not used to children or the things that they want. But it feels less foreign the longer she sits there, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time that day. 

Spencer comes back with a shiny TV Guide Magazine and a bundle of Amy's clothes under his arm. His eyes light up as her head peeks over the back of the couch. 

"Sorry, I was just at Mrs. Gomorrah's," he says, quickly putting everything down to take her into his arms. 

"I know," Amy says into his shirt. 

He kisses her head. You almost miss it, the affection quiet and swift. "Was your nap okay? Or do you need another one?" 

"Dad! Y/N's here." 

"Y/N doesn't care that you take naps, she takes naps too." Snoozing up against his shoulder with drool running down your chin. 

"No, I can't sleep because we're having a slumber party!" 

"We are?" he asks. 

"But she needs matching jammies." 

"Well, I don't have anything matching, but it won't be long for all my clothes to dry. I can wear jammies, then, at least," you assure her, sending Spencer a squinting smile that says, She's the cutest thing on planet Earth. 

He smiles back, as if to say, She really is. "Maybe Y/N wants a nap." 

Amy's concern lands on you. She climbs out of Spencer's arms, pressing her hand to your shoulder. "Please don't nap, I want to play games." 

"I'll play games, babe," you say. "Any game you want." 

"Yes! And, and maybe we can make, um–" Puzzled, Amy quirks her mouth into a frown and bounds back to Spencer. He rounds the couch and leans down at her gesturing. "What's it called, the fruit candy?" she whispers.

"From earlier?" he whispers back. "It's tanghulu. Tang-who-loo." 

She whispers a sweet thank you, spinning on the spot with her hands held behind her back. "We can make tanghulu, it's fruit kebabs turned to candy! Do you want to?"

Spencer smooths her hair back from her face. "You don't have to," he mouths, already squeezing her arm like he's prepared to talk her down. 

"Well, if it's okay with your dad I'd love to."

She gasps happily, jumping down off the sofa to race into the bathroom. "I'll wash my hands!" 

Spencer snorts and sits on the couch arm. "Notice how she didn't even ask me?" 

"You know that's a good thing." Spencer's probably read every parenting book there is. "She's so smart, Spencer. So smart, it's incredible. You're amazing." 

He scratches the collar of his sleep shirt, his curls moving as though woken by a gentle breeze as he nods to one side, "She shows some signs of an eidetic memory. Not like mine, but most children who have eidetic memories don't have them like I do. I can't take the credit for that, you know, beyond genetics." 

"Of course you can, someone had to teach her these things for her to remember them. You're never as nice to yourself as you should be, Spence. Everybody knows you're a great dad." You slouch back into the couch. "And I'm not just saying that because you're letting me stay for free." 

"There's no version of this situation where I would ever charge you. Thank you, Y/N. Having her by myself has been hard– it's hard. She's easy and I love her and she's better for me than she probably should be." He winces, his talking rushed, like he's listing statistics. "I haven't really been by myself. Mrs. Gomorrah. The team. We've known each other for a year but you act like Amy's family whenever you see her, and that means a lot to me. That's why I'm glad you called. You can always call me if you need help." 

"You can always call me," you murmur back. 

Spencer bumps your thigh with his knuckles. "I'm glad we're friends. Are you sure you're not too tired? Tanghulu isn't easy if you've never made it." 

"Says who?" 

"East Asian Eating, issue 78. We have to find the sugar, water, glucose syrup sweet spot or the candy doesn't harden."

"We can do it. You're the smartest guy I know, and I've been known to be resourceful. Plus, we have a world class assistant." 

Spencer stands up and offers you his hand to help you come with him, his fingers brushing yours for a moment that seems to stretch for minutes. "Just curious," he says softly, to your heart's clear delight, "when was your last check up at the dentist?" 

Right. He isn't about to tell you something you want to hear. This is Spencer —you should've guessed an odd question was on the horizon. 

"I'll have to think about it," you say.  

Amy bounds out of the bathroom and paints a trail of water droplets from the table to the kitchen. "He thinks you have weak teeth!" she explains. 

"That is not what I think." 

[gallusrostromegalus]

My drawing skills suck are very unpracticed but I have a mighty need to create fanart of the garbage tarot. I don't even know anything about the source material but I am in love with these idiots.

Actually... I do a lot more mixed-media than I do drawing........... Hmm...

As a Completely Unrelated Thought, what do you think Zaraki's handwriting would look like?

I'm glad you asked because there's na specific answer for AEIWAM fic! Zaraki!

(Note: in AEIWAM, Kakiyo was Tousen's adopted sister, not an unrequited crush, and she raised money to go to the academy by working as a travelling schoolteacher for a while)

---

The first time Yamamoto gets a report from Zaraki, it genuinely throws him for a loop. Its a thorough if somewhat gruesome report about the 11th dealing with a pack of hollows that had been attacking isolated villages. Nothing Yamamoto was not already used to, but reading descriptions of mutilated villagers is somehow more unsettling when the descriptions look like this:

(a stylistic example)

Yamamoto takes him to task next meeting.

(continued under the cut)

"I know you're still learning the job Zaraki, but you can't foist your paperwork off on Miss Kusajishi." Yamamoto growls.

"I... Didn't? What?" Zaraki looks extremely confused, but the Captain-General is not fooled.

"You mean to tell me THIS is your handwriting?" Yamamoto snaps, throwing the report on the table, sheets spilling out as it slid down the length of it, so everyone could see the bizarre cutesy hand it was written in.

Zaraki's face darkened, jaw clenched. "Yeah. What about it? You goin' blind as well as senile?" He growled.

"THIS IS THE HANDWRITING OF A LITTLE GIRL, ZARAKI, DO YOU HAVE THE SAME HANDWRITING AS YOUR DAUGHTER?" Yamamoto slammed his hand on the table, temperature sharply increasing around him.

Zaraki began to arch his back and crackle with Reiatsu as well, but was stopped by loud ringing chime and a hand on his arm.

Yamamoto blinked in surprise to see Tousen, of all people , holding the giant back. There was a click as Tousen fully re-sheathed his sword. Suzumushi's chime wouldn't effect either of them, but it redirected their attention very effectively.

"My apologies, Yamamoto-sama." He bowed his head before turning his ear up at Zaraki. "Kakiyo wrote about this to me. You could only afford for one of you to receive schooling, right?"

Zaraki huffed and shook himself before answering. "Yeah, I was a broke-ass bastard before this." He grumbled, scratching his neck in a de-escalation feature. "Yer sister was a fuckin' saint and a genius. Neither of you have any business tellin' the whole world though."

"I think it was an exceptionally brave and difficult thing you did." Tousen shrugged. "Even when she used that method, less than one in a hundred parents actually stuck to it, much less achieved what you have."

Zaraki started looking everywhere but at Tousen, thinking. "... wouldn't call it brave, it was just makin' sure she was doin' good in school." He muttered.

Tousen kept listening intently at Zaraki. May I tell Yamamoto-sama so he doesn't cause another scene?"

"You're going to tell me what you're muttering about whether you like it or not." Yamamoto menaced.

"My sister taught Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi how to read and write." Kaname sighed and took off his goggles to rub the bridge of his nose. "It's extremely common in the Rukongai to have to teach children whose parents have never had any kind of schooling. Many of the parents would like to go to school too, but can only afford to send their children- actually , usually only one child. It's not usually an issue of money, but time- the parents can't afford to miss fishing season, or spare any siblings because they're needed on the farm. But, when you have a parent who is as attentive and caring as Zaraki-"

"Tttch!" Zaraki huffed at Kaname, who pointedly ignored him.

"-You can get around the schooling fees and scheduling problems by telling the student that their homework is to teach their parents what they learned in school that day. The homework you give the students is for their parents to do after they pass the lesson on and grade them on how well they taught their family." Kaname explained, putting his goggles back on. "Kakiyo was in awe of Miss Kusajishi's dedication to teaching you, and immensely proud of your efforts."

Zaraki still refused to look at Tousen, but his ears were bright red.

"...ohhh." Ukitake realized. "Wow, that's... I thought it was impossible to learn how after a certain age, that's - well, I don't think it's something I could have done!"

"What?" Glared Yamamoto.

"Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi have the same handwriting because he learned how to read and write by learning her school lessons from her." Unohana translated. "-An exceptionally difficult way to learn, and commendable for even trying." She continued, arching an eyebrow at him as a warning.

"Yeah and with all due respect Yama-ji? You're not exactly in a position to be complaining about anyone else's handwriting-" added Shunsui. "Zaraki's handwriting is odd, but it's perfectly legible. Nanao-chan framed your last memo because she thought it was an abstract painting."

Yamamoto turned to Shunsui with an aggravated glare.

"I'm afraid I have to second Kyoraku-taicho." Tousen said, without an ounce of chagrin in his voice. "The kido spell on my glasses can translate nearly everyone's hand, but the only person in the ninth who can read your memos to me is third-seat Maegawa, and mostly because she's had several centuries practice."

"Wait, we were supposed to be getting memos?" Mayuri squawked. "Dammit! I thought that squiggly garbage was the fax machine breaking every other week! I disassembled that thing three times trying to fix it!"

"You can all shut up now." Yamamoto snarled, and everyone did, but there were still a lot of pointed looks around the table, and Unohana's eyebrow had not resumed it's usual curvature yet. "Please consider my complaint withdrawn."

Unohana's eyebrow arched further and she cracked her eye open to reveal a coal-black iris, going from Warning to Threat.

"...My apologies, Zaraki-taicho. That was. Inconsiderate of me." Yamamoto muttered.

"Ya gonna shut up about it now?" Zaraki asked, not quite facing Yamamoto, but back still arched.

"I will hold my judgment in check in the future." Yamamoto acquiesced, watching him.

"Sure." Zaraki grunted, shaking his shoulders to drop the subject. "Right, what the fuck were we doing?" He asked, returning to the agenda.

---

After the meeting, Tousen took a minute to stand in the late afternoon sun, exhaling and releasing the tension of the day, when someone grabbed one shoulder and plopped something heavy on the other.

"Yeh didn't have to do that." Zaraki grunted just behind Tousen's ear, his forehead resting on the small man's shoulder, half gratitude, half grumble.

"One of the responsibilities of a captain is to keep the general in check, and I had a particularly good opening to stop that nonsense for good." Kaname hummed, hand reflexively coming up to touch the giant's head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing over the scarred visage and peculiar hairstyle.

"Didn't read that in the employee handbook." Zaraki grunted, grin in his voice.

"Yamamoto wrote those handbooks, and he'd rather we let him do as he pleases. You have to learn how to read between the lines, Zaraki." Kaname teased.

Zaraki gave his strange, low clicking chuckle of amusement and affectionately mock-bit Kaname's ear before standing up, still holding his other shoulder.

"...Thanks. " he muttered, giving his arm a squeeze and stepping away. "Gotta go pick up Sensei, you talk to her if you think I need more tutoring!" Zaraki waved, striding off to collect Yachiru in completely the opposite direction from her school.

"ITS THE OTHER- oh, he'll figure it out." Kaname sighed.

The sun was low in the sky, but it was still warm, and the first Cricket of summer started chirping, startling him. Suzumushi chirped with it, singing her mournful loss of her original wielder, but not so despairing this time.

"Kaname?" Sajin asked, heard before he was felt as usual. The lieutenant's meeting must have wrapped up late.

Kaname smiled and put a finger up, indicating he should listen. Sajin did, helmet tipping slightly to hear.

"Crickets!" Sajin realized, and offered Kaname his gauntlets hand to lead him home. "...I miss Kakiyo too." He sighed.

"You're not really gone if some part of you lives on in someone else." Kaname hummed. "I realized she is not so far gone today."

"Oh?" Sajin asked. "Where does she live on?"

"Have you read any of Zaraki-taocho's reports yet?" Kaname grinned. "His hand is not his hand alone."

[lowkeyremi]

A drabble based off Samu's part of this post cuz I miss little haruki

summary: haruki has to hang out with his uncle 'tsumu while his parents are at the hospital

Atsumu and Haruki have been staring each other down since Osamu dropped him off ten minutes ago. Haruki has seen his uncle 'Tsumu many times before, even on TV, but never has his uncle babysat him.

"So kid... what do ya wanna do?" Usually when Atsumu's with his nephew it's under the supervision of you or Osamu. Being completely alone with him is new to both of them.

"Um. I don't know, do ya have any toys?" Your carbon copy asks.

"Nah, I don't play with toys, I'ma grown man." He explains to his nephew. The small child doesn't like that response, "When I'm a grown up I'm gonna play with toys!"

Atsumu ultimately forgets that Haruki is a little boy with childish ideas, so he chuckles at his statement.

"No ya won't, kid."

"Yes I will!"

"No ya won't."

"Yes I wi-"

"Hey! How 'bout we play some volleyball, huh?" The blond athlete realizes there is absolutely no point in fighting with a six year old.

"I hate volleyball, it's boring." A loud gasp escapes Atsumu's lips and he feels like he's been shot right in the chest.

"Yer lying, right? Haha that was pretty funny, made me laugh." He refuses to believe that any nephew or niece of his would hate volleyball. He has to be joking...

"'m serious! Papa took me to a volleyball camp last year 'n I hated it! Everyone was so mean to me 'n they kept telling me I couldn't hold the ball for myself." Well, there's the problem. As a six year old everything is about you, you, you. So, Atsumu assumes Haruki didn't like it because he wasn't the center of attention.

"Let me tell ya a lil' something. I'm gonna go get a volleyball and I'll tell ya this story while we're outside." Haruki's obviously skeptical of what his uncle plans on doing but he'll go along with it for right now.

The little boy sets his Sonic themed backpack down by the front door, when he makes sure all his toys are secure in his bag, he slowly stomps his way to the sliding glass doors that lead to his uncle's backyard.

There's a net that's way too big for Haruki to hit anything over it outside, which immediately discourages him. Atsumu soon returns with a volleyball in his hands, Haruki would assume with all that money his uncle makes he'd have a nicer looking volleyball, but the one he's holding is all beat up and dirty.

"Are ya too poor to get a better ball?" Atsumu doesn't even take it to offense because he knows Haruki is genuinely curious and not trying to be rude.

"Nah, this ball is older than ya are. 's the ball me n yer papa used to use when we were first startin' out." That seems to ignite a new interest in the little boy, well, if his excited gasps were anything to go by.

"I'ma give it to ya so ya'll have somethin' to use when you play." This isn't enough to convince Haruki to play volleyball but Atsumu's not done just yet. He still has to tell him the story, but first they have to set up the small net, so Haruki can hit over it.

Atsumu opens up his shed to find the little beat up box that contained he and Osamu's old volleyball net from their elementary school days.

"Woah! That net is the perfect size for me!" His nephew screeches in excitement.

"Yeah 's also older than ya." The two set up the net and Atsumu teaches Haruki the form to receive. He tosses the small boy a few so he can get used to receiving.

"Okay, so, I wanted to tell ya that, volleyball ain't all about you, but at the same time it is," Haruki doesn't say anything in return. No little kid wants to hear that everything isn't about them.

"I had trouble understandin' that m'self when I was growin' up. I thought- nah I knew I was the shit so I acted prideful 'bout it." His nephew gasps at him saying a bad word, but he doesn't interrupt his story.

"'n I really don't care who likes me and who doesn't. I was like that back then too, so I never really had anyone besides 'Samu to play with. Which was fine when we were young, but in a real game, ya need six people." Haruki nods his head to let his uncle know he's listening.

"I had to realize that volleyball was a team effort 'n I couldn't play the whole game, m'self," He pauses for a second to bump the ball back the Haruki.

"That was also when I started to realize, it really was all about me, 'cause if yer a good setter all yer hitters gotta rely on ya. They need ya to set to 'em." Haruki pauses for a second.

"What if I don't wanna set? I wanna be a hitter like papa was." Atsumu smiles at him.

"It applies to hitters too, if yer a good hitter then yer setter will most likely set to ya the most often, 'cause ya can score." Haruki's eyes light up with a new sense of hope.

"Will you teach me more about volleyball, Uncle 'Tsumu?" Atsumu's earlier dread has completely left his body, his nephew didn't hate volleyball, he hated not being the center of attention, just like Atsumu did.

The two go back into the house when the sun is almost down. Haruki had learned so much from his uncle, and he was excited to show all of it to you and Osamu.

Atsumu goes to call his brother to realize that he had missed 4 calls from him and a few texts with pictures attached.

"Haruki! Hurry up 'n get in here! Yer sister is born!!" Haruki comes running in with his new (old) volleyball.

"Lemme see her!!!" He tries to grab his uncle's phone.

"Be patient, ya little gremlin." Atsumu pulls up the picture and hands his phone to tiny, grubby hands. You look very tired, but a small smile graces your face and you're holding a tiny little bundle in your arms. The next couple of pictures are Osamu holding his daughter too.

"Ew, why is she so wrinkly?" Atsumu tries and fails to hold in a chuckle. His nephew's face is all scrunched up and disgusted.

"'s 'cause she was just born. She's been swimming 'round in yer ma's belly for the past nine months. Kinda like how ya stay in the bath for too long and yer fingers start to get wrinkly." Atsumu explains, Haruki's not convinced, at all.

"Ya looked the same way when ya were born." Haruki shakes his head so fast Atsumu wouldn't be surprised if his head popped off.

"Nuh-uh. I was never wrinkly!" Atsumu is quick to go through his albums to find the one of Haruki's birth.

"Yea ya did, look." Haruki takes a good look at the picture before jumping up in surprise.

"EWWW I WAS WRINKLY!!!!" He starts running around like a crazy animal on the loose, screams leaving his lips.

Atsumu snorts, "We were all wrinkly babies at one point." The setter also learns how rewarding being an uncle is.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[murasaki-cha]

The Choi trio incorrect quotes

......

Choi Jung Soo: Dear friends, your Christmas gift this year… is me. That’s right, another year of friendship. Your membership has been renewed.

......

Choi Jung Gun: Accidentally indulged in too much ‘free time’, turns out I’ve been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

......

Choi Han: I was put on this earth to do one thing.

Choi Han: But God of Death never told me what it was so I can do whatever I want.

......

Choi Jung Soo: You know how I roll.

Choi Jung Soo: And I’m not talking about that time I fell into a pile of dung at the foot of a hill.

......

Choi Jung Gun: I’m really glad “fight me” has replaced “sue me” in the common vernacular because I don’t have money, but I do have fists and I am always angry

......

Choi Han: I don't dab. I stab.

......

Choi Jung Soo: So what’s for dinner?

Choi Han, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

......

Choi Jung Soo : Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet?

Choi Han: Why?

Choi Jung Soo : I want to wander around playing it to annoy Choi Jung Gun .

Choi Han: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that.

Choi Jung Soo : Uncle, you have opened my eyes.

......

Choi Jung Soo: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside

Choi Han:

Choi Han: Choi Jung Soo, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...

Choi Jung Soo: *Sips coffee from bowl*

......

Choi Jung Soo: Do crabs think people walk sideways?

Choi Jung Gun : ...Choi Jung Soo, what the hell.

.......

Choi Jung Soo: What’s up guys? I’m back.

Choi Han: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die.

Choi Jung Soo: Death is a social construct.

.......

Choi Han: The odds of this happening by coincidence are vanishingly small.

Choi Jung Gun : I would say infinitesimally.

Choi Jung Soo : And I'd say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

.......

*Choi Jung Gun and Choi Jung Soo are in a car teetering on the edge of a cliff*

Choi Jung Gun : oh my god, Choi Jung Soo, backwards!

Choi Jung Soo : Really, Choi Jung Gun? I thought I might go forwards into the river, I thought that would be a fun thing to do.

.......

Choi Jung Soo: Naturally, we are on the cutting edge of technology.

Choi Han, amazed: Wow...

Choi Jung Gun, to Choi Han: Well what does that mean?

Choi Han: I don't know.

Choi Han, to Choi Jung Soo: What does that mean?

.......

Choi Jung Gun, to Choi Han: If Choi Jung Soo doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check.

Choi Jung Soo, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

.......

Choi Jung Gun: We need a distraction.

Choi Han: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Choi Jung Soo, whispering: My time has come

.......

Choi Jung Soo, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Choi Han: You did WHAT–

Choi Jung Gun: William Snakepeare

.......

Choi Jung Soo : One time I went to hand Choi Han a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”

.......

Choi Jung Gun : Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don't want to sound mean.

Choi Han: No, go ahead. I want to hear it.

Choi Jung Gun : It sucks.

Choi Han: That's not constructive criticism

......

Choi Han: What happened to Choi Jung Soo?

Choi Jung Gun : They died.

Choi Han: They what?

Choi Jung Gun : They died, but they’re okay.

Choi Han: …Can you please clarify?

Choi Jung Soo : Clarification is for the weak.

......

Choi Jung Soo : Hey Choi Jung Gun, do you have any hobbies?

Choi Jung Gun : Swimming..

Choi Jung Soo : Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Choi Jung Gun : In a pool of self hatred and regret.

......

Choi Han, in a high voice, holding barbie: hey ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

Choi Jung Soo, in a deep voice, holding ken: nonsense, barbie. you’re staying home and having my kids

Choi Jung Gun: what the fuck are you guys doing?

Choi Han: playing systemic oppression

.......

Choi Han: What's a word that's a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'

Choi Jung Gun, ex author: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Choi Jung Soo: Smad

[thefirst3chapters]

Unpopular opinion (maybe): Luke's ultimatum at the end of Season 3 inadvertently reinforced Jess's choices that stopped him from finishing high school in the first place.

Disclaimer: The intent here isn't to attack Luke for how he handled things. The overall effect of Luke's presence in Jess's life is undoubtedly positive and instrumental to where Jess ended up. Luke was put in an unfair position that he wasn't prepared for, he genuinely cared and tried his best with the knowledge he had, and it would have been well within his rights to say no to Liz to begin with or to Jess when he came back after the car accident.

From what Jess tells Rory in "Teach Me Tonight," it sounds like he never had much academic support from adults, which is of course why Rory's belief in him will end up meaning so much. Details about Jess's childhood that are revealed once Liz is around suggest that Jess didn't have trustworthy adults in his life and had to learn how to be self-sufficient early. Even though we as the audience can see that Luke is responsible and trustworthy through his own actions and his relationships with people who have known him for many years, Jess doesn't have the same history with him, and it can take a long, long time to unlearn those survival instincts. Additionally, Jess's Walmart manager, as gregarious and pro-corporate as he seems to be, doesn't appear to engage in the practice of pressuring introverts to socialize (which happened to Rory at Chilton) and allows Jess to do something constructive and work toward a tangible reward. Some people get these benefits from going to school, but Jess didn't. Then there's a layer of youthful hubris here because Jess really did seem to think that he could manage all of this and go to school just enough to graduate based on what he tells Rory in S3 E17, Luke in S3 E18, and the principal in S3 E19. With of all this information in mind, it's really not surprising that Jess would prioritize work above school. His logic is self-destructive but understandable, and his fatal flaw ends up being that he committed to more responsibilities than a person could reasonably handle. This isn't the standard media portrayal of ditching school.

Luke's approach to being Jess's guardian is fairly hands-off. After Luke's "laying down the law" talk in the first episode Jess is in, the only requirement we see enforced is that Jess has to work at the diner, which Jess complies with. Luke didn't know Jess was working at Walmart at all until Jess bought his car, he didn't know Jess was eventually working more than full-time hours, and he didn't know Jess was missing as much school as he was. (This last one suggests a significant oversight at the school, which is another story.) When the extent of Jess's work hours is brought to his attention and Lorelai speculates about what is going on, he tells Lorelai that there is no way Jess would skip school and doesn't investigate further. When he realizes Jess is working some days instead of going to school, he offers to pay Jess more at the diner (and later steals his car) to prevent him from working at Walmart (the place he worked before he had a car to earn the money to buy it???) but doesn't press him about what is really going on.

So after all of that, it turns out Jess didn't go to school enough to graduate. Luke does give Jess the option to stay in Stars Hollow and keep going to school, but I could never blame someone for not being able to have a rational conversation immediately after a stranger randomly shows up, claims paternity, and runs out. The emotional damage of that incident really can't be divorced from what happens here. Luke is of course also in crisis mode. Jess didn't graduate because he worked too much, so now he's in a position where his consequence is to keep doing what got him into trouble, only this time he doesn't have anyone looking after him. This isn't what Luke is intending, but his ultimatum basically reinforces Jess's mindset of prioritizing work (i.e. short-term financial security) above school and his reluctance to trust other people, and it reinforces Jess's family history (ironically not including Luke) of abandoning difficult situations (in this case, the aftermath of the fight with Dean) and relationships (in this case, Rory) instead of facing them. Jess ends up on his own with the money he had from work that he was saving for a different car, so he probably thinks it's a good thing he worked as much as he did, and he ends up without adult guidance or restrictions to help him sort all this out and repair the harm he caused. This could have turned out much more darkly than it did, and it's really a miracle that Jess got to where he was by the time he was 21.

When Jess is with Jimmy in California, he acknowledges that he's failed and doesn't know where to go from there. It probably isn't outlandish to think that Jess was earning more as a full-time forklift driver than what he is earning during Season 4. Factoring in the lower cost of living in Stars Hollow or somewhere nearby compared to New York, he probably could have been able earn a decent living if he stayed at Walmart (even if he wouldn't have been better off in the long run). That's probably why Luke's "I'm sorry I didn't think driving a forklift for the rest of your life was good enough for you" stung. It was likely a much better situation than whatever Jess is in mid-Season 4.

In late Season 4, Jess seems resigned to where he is. He doesn't complain or blame anyone else for his circumstances, even when Luke repeatedly mocks him in New York. (Even mid-Season 4, Jess doesn't express anger toward Luke about anything other than Luke stealing his car until Luke provokes him multiple times.) Maybe Jess was already thinking about writing a book or studying for a GED during Season 4, but his posture and mannerisms seem to suggest defeat more than anything else. At this point, Jess might not be envisioning anything other than what he has. It is only after Luke accepts Jess for who he is, and stops seeing him as a failed project, ("You are who you are. I cannot change that, and I'm going to stop trying.") that Jess really starts to move forward. Although Luke isn't even very positive in how he says this, it's still the sort of affirmation Jess always needed and maybe never received from a family member before. Then, he's honest with Luke about his emotions, he's receptive to Luke's advice, he expresses appreciation for what Luke did for him, he offers Luke a way to stay in contact, and he makes a commitment to pay him back even though Luke says he doesn't have to do so. He tries (and fails, for the time being) to make amends with Rory, and after all of these things happen, he progresses into the version of himself that returns in Season 6. Jess pursues a path that Luke doesn't quite understand but has accepted and is proud of (it's also a path that Rory does understand and is proud of, and both forms of support are so important).

[listofwhyyouloveher]

What would get the gang mad? (Friendship and relationships wise)

Summary: What would get the gang mad

Warnings:none

Author's Note: none

PONYBOY CURTIS

Pony is a little more lax about stuff like this but being loud in places where you're supposed to be quiet is one of his pet peeves

He also hates when his girl messes around with other guys to make him "jealous", he just finds it odd and annoying

He will not tolerate hate to his family and the gang, those are the people he's been through thick and thin, to him its bros before hoe's

If you make fun of people less fortunate than you, he knows what it feels like to be broke and lonely and he can't stand that

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny hates, just like Ponyboy, when people are loud when they're supposed to be quiet, not only is it because he likes quiet but also because he has a tinge of social anxiety

He hates people who get into fights with people who are too weak or too strong, don't pick on people you can't handle and people who can't defend themselves

Johnny also hates when you make fun of his eating habits, it's not every day he gets to eat, let him enjoy it.

Lastly, Johnny hates when his girl puts herself down to garner attention, he's just so over the "self-loathing" shit

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda dislikes when you hurt his ego, he's spent years building it up and had to really do some self care after his parents died, having you put him down is really tough

Soda cannot stand when you put down his gang and especially Steve and Pony, his gang is his ride or die.

Sodapop doesn't like when you make fun of greasers clothes and hair, not everyone has enough money for that

Lastly he hates when his girl gets overprotective and jealous too easily, lots of girls come up to him because of his looks don't give him hell because of it

STEVE RANDLE

Steve has very few things he gets mad at one thing is if you have no respect for his parents and the Curtis's parents

If you make fun of dead people, what the hell, he was really hurt when the Curtis parents died, it's just too much for him

Something he'd find mildly annoying is If you use those nicknames where you add a y to the end of their name, i.e. "stevey". He's not a kid

If you annoy him while he eats he's gonna get so mad at you, just let the man eat for God's sake.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Starting off strong, Two CANNOT stand hate to his sister. That's his goddamn family

And if you don't laugh at his jokes he's going to get mildly upset, he put his heart and soul into that

He won't listen to any sort of mickey mouse hate either, you either watch it with him or get out

Please do not make fun of him for his greaser life, he tries his best to give his sister a life where she's happy but it's so rough on him

DARRY CURTIS

Don't you EVER make fun of his parents, NEVER. He's gonna kick you out right away, you'll never be welcomed back

Be kind to Pony and Soda, don't teach them bad things, he's spent so long trying to raise them good

Don't tell him he would've been better off not dropping out or anything thing like that, it's too harsh because he misses school sometimes

Be gentle with him too, his feelings are often disregarded and he's putting other first, make him feel special

DALLAS WINSTON

Don't get too clingy and don't expect him to treat you good, he'll get pissed if you act like he's supposed to be the best boyfriend

Don't make fun of his childhood, he went through a lot and he isn't ready to face it all, instead he bottles it up

Don't get protective and jealous all the time, he hates feeling like he's in a cage, especially in relationships

Don't try and pick a fight with him either, he's always going to win and with each fight he likes you a little less.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I discovered your blog yesterday, and I confess I became obsessed with Cyprus😫

I hope I'm not bothering, but I wanted to ask if Cyprus would like to have children? And what would he be like as a father

Yves as a parent

Blanche as a parent

Montgomery as a parent

i prommy my other ocs are better than cyprus </3 i do not like this stimky man as much as my other ocs

tw: Transphobia, homophobia, Cyprus is a misogynist, violence

Cyprus isn't necessarily too keen on having children. He very much rather devotes all his time to you. But that doesn't mean he will be a horrible parent like how Yves would be.

If you have a child with him, it's most likely due to an accident or an attempt at baby-trapping you. He would absolutely stop at only one child though, he doesn't want more draining his money and energy.

He would fork over his cheque to hire a nanny to care for his child when they're a baby, choosing to spend his time going on dates and romantic getaways with you, Not to say that he wouldn't change a diaper and lose some sleep to burp them, he just wants to keep the stress under a minimum. Only when they reach age 3, he will step in and handle the disciplinary and developmental side of things.

A daughter would have an easier life than a son. Cyprus would be much softer towards her, paying for her tuition fees and generally becoming that overprotective father figure. He will be very present in her life and yours too, forcing family bonding time whether you or the child likes it or not. You are going to her every piano recital and ballet performance with him, he wouldn't allow himself or you to miss it for the world.

Whoever makes her cry would be pummeled into the ground by Cyprus, she just needs to tell him a name and the deed would be done. In school, Cyprus's daughter would most likely be the mean girl, the queen bee of the bullies because he would be actively encouraging becoming the alpha bitch in class. He would be spoiling her with all kinds of girly things; makeup, the prettiest dress, and all the hair and manicure appointments she would ever want. He would bond with her by taking her out to malls, carrying all her shopping bags as if he were her personal servant.

No chores, just excel in studies. He leaves the burden of teaching her basic survival skills to you, but otherwise, the only requirement for her to meet is straight As on her report card.

He approves of his daughter joining the cheer team, dance classes, or any clubs that elevate her social status while being 'girly' in his eyes.

Cyprus prefers it if she's straight, bagging a boyfriend that would treat her right. However, he would begrudgingly accept if she's a lesbian or bisexual, as long as she's calling the shots in the relationship.

The downside to this is that he would be annoyingly misogynistic at times, giving her slack just because she's "just a female" and couldn't handle things like a man. He wouldn't let her follow in her father's footsteps in boxing, take an interest in 'boyish' things, or even cut her hair shorter than shoulder length.

He would get ugly if his daughter transitioned into a man or took on a more tomboyish personality, yelling and shouting as his worldview crumbles around him. It is excruciatingly hard for Cyprus to accept this, he would most likely disown them and stew in his bitterness and hurt for years to come. When he matures and adopts an open mind with your help and coaxing, he will only be open to reconnecting with his child. However, he wouldn't be the first to apologize, still thinking that his child decided to throw the first punch by killing off his little girl.

He would call his child by their deadname, misgender them, and being an overall patronizing asshole to them. But he is desperately trying to change them back into his daughter, failing to realize that isn't happening.

Nothing will get through to him; inevitably, his child will cut all contact with him. Sending Cyprus into hysterics because he simply cannot accept that some people aren't going to be confined to the sex that they were born with. He would become extremely clingy towards you, though. Fearing that his wife will also leave him too.

But that is if his child is genderqueer. If his daughter grows up to be a straight, cis woman, he would just continue being protective of her, vetting all her partners and scaring away the unworthy boys. She would definitely have a life on her own, but she has to call him from time to time. Because he's a strong believer in "The phone works both ways".

When it comes to sons, there would be no coddling. No spoiling- he would have to earn his own money to get what he wants. No emotional support; if he came home crying, he would receive a barrage of insults for being effeminate, leaving him to fend the bullies off by himself. Cyprus would teach him self-defense in the form of boxing from a very young age, though, making his son a carbon copy of Cyprus in his youth. He would encourage the child to be aggressive, outspoken, and direct, the complete opposite of what he would tell his daughter to do.

Unlike his daughters though, he wouldn't encourage his son to be a bully. Because it's harder for him to get away with it since he would think using his fists. But he does not accept weakness from his son, he would egg him on to continue the fight, but never, ever start it.

He would work his son like a dog, making him mow the lawn, carry heavy furniture, climb up the roof of the house to do gutter maintenance, make him cook and clean, service the cars, whatever labor-intensive and dirty work he could find, Cyprus will make his son do it.

He would bond with his son through boxing, said chores, and man-to-man talks. Competitions on who can lift the heaviest or punch the strongest would be common pastimes between the father and son duo. Despite how he would clearly raise his son with a heavy hand and tough love, Cyprus is a very present father. He gives a damn about his development, not wanting him to be 'useless'.

He doesn't particularly care about his son's grades, as long as he's not held back more than twice in a row, he's fine. Cyprus also doesn't care about his son's taste in women either, as long as his girlfriends don't pose any harm to you or Cyprus, he's fine.

Unfortunately, it's less likely Cyprus would sponsor his college fees unless he's choosing a degree that his father likes. That means, no arts. No medicine either, because Cyprus thinks his son is too stupid to even get through the first semester. The only Bachelor's degree that Cyprus would 100% agree on is something to do with business or finance.

He wouldn't take it well if his son is genderqueer, he would get violent and perhaps break a bone or two if you're not there to stop your husband from hurting your child. Moreover, he couldn't accept the idea that his son was attracted to another man and being dominated by one. It's an instant disownment with a 0% chance of reconciliation.

There aren't many differences between his treatment of his son and his daughter when they're adults, they get their own lives but they have to call Cyprus from time to time to maintain their relationship with him.

Overall, Cyprus isn't the worst parent out there. Although he may be toxic as hell, he is at least there for his children and actually has their best interests at heart.

[cibeeorsomeshit]

teach him your handwriting (ao3)

fluff; established relationship

Blitzø slumped into Stolas’ lounge chair and groaned about paperwork fucking up his life for the eighth time in the past two weeks. Stolas couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

“Blitzø, darling, do you need help?”

“He finally fucking got it.” Blitzø rolled over and onto Stolas, burying his face into the covered puss that had no right being this soft to lie on. “Moxxie keeps bitching at me to hire someone or get my shit together.”

“I see. And you wish to—hire me?”

“What? No, I can't focus if you're there.” Blitzø groaned immediately and pinched Stolas’ thigh hard enough that it would have bruised if it were anyone but Stolas. “You didn't hear that. I didn't say that.”

“Of course.” Stolas managed to comply before the urge to scoop his lover up and kiss him senselessly overwhelmed him. “How may I help you then?”

“Tell me how you do all those boring admin work. You go through them like drug addicts with a bathtub full of coke.”

“How classy,” Stolas said dryly. “I'm just a faster reader, I suppose”

A beat of silence. Blitzø turned his face so it was no longer smothered between Stolas’ legs and started playing with the fine down feathers on his wrist.

“I can't read very well.”

“I know.”

“Most of the words don't make sense. Moxxie is less of a prissy princess than you but he still came from money. Got all the proper education and all that crap. Our imp circus didn't really — It's not like we're legally required to be educated.”

“Actually, it is a legal requirement for children in entertainment to have 180 days of schooling in a year—”

“No one in hell gave two fucks about legal requirements! We didn't even have safety nets, you think they'll hire a teacher?”

“Well, if you want, I could teach you.”

“You have better things to do than to teach me how to fucking look at words, Stolas.”

“There are rarely things better than spending time with you, Blitzø.”

“…this isn't some weird sexy teacher kink, is it?”

“You think I'm sexy?” Stolas hurriedly pushed down his urge to have every part of Blitzø kissed at least twice, more if Blitzø was in a good mood and let him.

“Fuck you. You know what you look like.”

“I don’t want to overstep.” Stolas pulled Blitzø upright so they faced each other, which was exactly the position Blitzø didn't want to have this conversation in. “I know I can be overwhelming when it comes to things I’m passionate about and it definitely doesn't help that this involves words and you…”

“Ugh, oh my god, don't — you know I don’t think—I just need your he—fuck, I can’t say it. I'm going to be sick.”

Stolas’ smile was all gooey. “Will you satisfy my desire to spend time with you under the pretense of helping you with readings?”

The vaguely nauseated twitches to Blitzø’ mouth smoothed out, along with the rest of his body.

“If that's what you want, you attention whore.” Blitzø half-said, half-purred as he curled up in Stolas’ lap, back spines flared up in pleasure as Stolas’ finger massaged between his horns.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Stolas said, in the most indulgent tone since the beginning of hell, probably.

Spending time with Blitzø in his study or in the kitchen or on the bed pouring over books was what Stolas imagined heaven to be like. They scribbled in the margin of books, Stolas annotating or explaining, while Blitzø took in things in the fascinating way he did. Stolas was enjoying it all way too much to realize his mistakes.

A pile of papers and sticky-notes were dropped onto his desk.

“Ah,” Stolas said, very regal and dignified and not panicking at all. “It seemed I forgot I had some prior engagement I forgot about, but I’m sure you can manage without me. You’ve improved so much, you know—and my library is your to use, so I think I’ll just—”

“Stolas, what the actual fuck.” Blitzø was standing on the desk and towering over Stolas, presumably to assert dominance, even though he did that very well already at ground level.

“To be fair, you told me you don’t read them.”

“Yeah, because I go cross-eyed at your fancy rich people cursive.”

Most of the papers are dented and crumbled because Stolas folded them into little owls or lizards and had them sneak into Blitzø’s office when he was gone. Blitzø always took pictures when he came back and sent them to Stolas, but never indicated that he read them, or even opened them, let alone—

“I didn’t know you kept these.” Stolas said weakly.

Blitzø’s face darkened. “Yeah, well. I have a drawer for them.”

“You do?”

“That’s—fucking hell, that’s not the point! You were just never going to—shit, goddamn it, God fucking damn it!”

Stolas realized Blitzø was genuinely and not simply comically upset, and that made him rather miserable. “I’m sorry,” said Stolas, in a small voice. “I didn’t mean for them to be so upsetting.”

“Well, they are!”

Stolas started to gather all of them and deliberated between the fireplace or some exorbitant spell, maybe he would throw himself into the mix as well. A few blissful moments of oblivion sounded perfect right about now.

But Blitzø snatched all of them back before Stolas could finish and hissed with every part of him, clutching them to his chest with a sort of animalistic protectiveness. Stolas was baffled.

“You’ve been writing me love letters for—for so long and I didn’t even know.” Blitzø bared his fangs. “I thought they were just smut! I made fun of them to people! To you! And you let me!”

“I’m sorry.” Stolas repeated, and stood up when he noticed a shine to Blitzø’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Blitzø bumped his forehead to Stolas’ chest, sunk in, wetting the feathers there. “Why do you let me treat you badly?”

Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzø tight enough to cut off air. Blitzø forced the words out anyway: “I’ve been trying so hard to make up for the way I was with you before. Now I just keep thinking about how you felt when I fucking…tell you I don’t read them, or that it’s just cluttering up my office, likes they’re garbage. Fuck, Stolas.”

“Please don’t cry, Blitzø. It doesn’t matter now. You’ve been so good to me, don’t you understand?”

“Were you upset? When I said those things?”

“Darling…”

“Were you?”

Resigned, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing.”

Blitzø needed that, to know he was forgiven. He finally wrapped his arms around Stolas. Legs, too. And tail. Sotlas happily sustained all his weight.

“Do you want to take a rain check on our lesson today?” Stolas asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Blitzø mumbled.

“What would you like to do? We can watch a movie, or I can have someone prepare the spa room—”

“I want you to read to me.”

“What?”

Blitzø stuffed all the letters right into Stolas’ face. “Read them to me.”

“W-well, that’s quite embarrassing…”

“And I’ll reply to them.” Blitzø removed his face from Stolas’ chest and glared up at him, made completely non-threatening with the snot dripping down his face and the way his tail caressed Stolas’ back. “Prepare some fucking coffee, sweetheart, because I don’t care if it takes all night. I’m replying to every single fucking one, and I’m going to do it when I’m balls deep inside you too. Make sure it really gets in there until you never forget.”

“O-oh.” The sensitive place between Stolas’ legs tightened and he could probably just hump Blitzø there like that and finish, but he was so desperate for Blitzø to fulfill his promise that through some sort of miracle he controlled himself long enough to get them back to his bedchamber. And all night it took, alright. Blitzø hadn’t got an ounce of regret when he showed up for work the next day completely sleep-deprived.

It was all good though, since a paper owl was waiting for Blitzø in his office.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Endeavor - Intro/Headcanons

Endeavor is a very underrated character.

yes he was an abuser, but he is trying to be a better father. and even though hen still gets mad and doesn't really know how to show his emotions he's still trying. As someone who doesn't have the best relationship with her father, and also as some one who is trying to be a better person I can appreciate that.

I feel like if somebody were to give him a chance, somebody that has little to no knowledge of his past or status he could actually have a stable and healthy relationship with such a person.

but that on it's own is boring so make it a reader who was just recently put in an orphanage as she was saved from her neglectful parents and has no other family. we'll keep her around the age of 4-15 as those were the years that endeavor missed the most with his kids.

now, how would these two meet? I have a couple ideas and I'll write a fanfic (or fanfics) for the most popular one. (there's a poll below for y'all to decide.)

option 1 : Bus stop

reader is around 5,6,7 years old and quirkless.

so you and Endeavor have a similar morning commute at the same bus stop, at the same time, every morning. you go to school, and him to his agency. and while Endeavor never really cared for this, one morning you happen to forget your coat at the orphanage. (not that it kept you warm anyway.) the sight of a child in winter, cold and alone, practically pulled at his heart strings. a feeling overcame him I suppose, a need to protect and provide perhaps. and begrudgingly he got out a sweater, all warm and fluffy and lent it to you, grumbling something about giving it back to him later. now all snuggled up within the oversized cotton fibers of the sweater, warm and happy, all you could really do is mumble out a little thank you. Imma bout' to pull a grinch but Endeavor's heart grew 3 times that day.

Option 2 : support hero

reader is 15 and quirkless but uses support items to help her if she needs anything.

you are the apprentice of his main support hero, a wild, spunky woman who spends her days drinking, drunk, or hungover. ( I mean... good for her.) and yes while she does teach you, she usaully leaves all the real work to you. at this point she's your apprentice. so when Endeavor comes it's not her that really helps it's you! you repair, you improve, you operate the rest of the support heroes, honestly he should give you a raise. and it's nice, having you around I mean, you just always seem to make his day better, either by showing him cat memes, or explaining your latest obsession to him, or just being your self. it's a talkative and optimistic x furious monster that will fight to the death for them dynamic or a brings instant noodles to share for lunch x uses his fire quirk to actually cook the instant noodles with his fire quirk dynamic.

Option 3 : Dabi

more of a Endeavor-Dabi mix for the drama. reader is 4 and gets her quirk in the story. her quirk is a heightened version of shoto's quirk which I'll expand on if this is the fan favorite.

you are the product of Dabi and a fling he had when he was 19 or 20, and while he may not have the most money or have the money, he still tires to protect you and and make you feel as cherished and loved as one can. growing up he never really showed you what a hero was. all you need to know is that they are not good people but don't tell anyone that lots of people don't know that and might get angry. now this is fine and all, Dabi protects your innocence while also protecting you from the world that hurt him. but one thing he negelcted to teach you is who is a hero. because the description he gave you "people attempting to 'save' people and fight 'bad guys' using their quirks often with swarms of people around them." only applies to heros in action and/or heros that the public actually like. so when Endeavor is placed to patrol in a relatively bad neighbourhood (it's the best one dabi could afford HE"S TRYING C"MON) around the time kids go and comeback from school to make sure they get home safe is when he meets you. a little girl with white hair like snow and sapphire blue eyes that glisten with joy.

POLLS!!!

thx for reading!!! byyeee.

[yanci-indigo]

Do you have any Amber backstory or lore you'd like to share? np if not. im just really curious about her :3

Hellooo!! I do have a backstory for her in mind, but I was so lazy (again) to write anything on a paper and just basically revise everything mentally. Her backstory isn't final btw but I can share some bits with you.

Since Amber was adopted, of course she has biological parents lmao but that was the other topic for her lore.

Amber was originally named Mayumi Sanchez and was born on September 21, 1902 in Sonora, Mexico. She and her parents left the country and decided to live in Oklahoma for a new life.

(I searched the Mexican History just so her lore will makes sense, but I also make sure to not get too political here huhu. I may not be a Mexican, but their history feeds my curiosity so BAHAHAHAH)

As they landed on Oklahoma, everything went well. They got a house to shelter on, and enough money for their necessities. That is until Amber have to stop studying at school due to financial problems. Her father had to find a better job with a decent salary, yet it was difficult for him to find one. On the other hand, her mother stayed on their house to look after her. Her mother was actually a teacher back in the Philippines so she teaches Amber more things (useful or practical ones!).

A tragedy fell on the Sanchez family when a fire spread inside their house. Not sure how it happened or where it started, but Amber managed to survive. Unfortunately, her parents didn't make it (rest their souls), and Amber ended up being an orphan after that. Amber had a blurry memory of that tradegy until she remembers it again in the main plot (which is another different story).

Amber stayed at one of the orphanages in Oklahoma in around a few months before she was adopted. In her experiences in those months, she didn't have a good time, but that doesn't mean she had a bad time either. She hated the food there, as she can describe them as "stale with a hint of metal", and she missed her mother's dishes. She made some friends but there are some bullies too. There is this one girl who grabbed the scissors and just cut Amber's hair just because she is "weird". Don't worry, she fought back.

[gabessquishytum]

Going back through your blog, I found the best idea that I'm surprised more people aren't talking about and that's the bad Sex Ed Dream, bc it just seems so much like him. No doubt he didn't get a good health education in that big old fancy private school of his before he left for Uni and got himself stuck in a dorm with whatever poor, disadvantaged youth the algorithm decided to throw him.

So Dream continues to stumble through life inexperienced and ill-equipped to handle his burgeoning sexuality. He doesn't know what to do with his slutty little pussy other than let his next boy of the week finger fuck him in the bathroom. Maybe he lets them eat him out if they've been good to him. But he's never been fucked. Not yet. Bc he wants a better man to be the father of his child bc that's how this works right? Couples fuck and a baby just appears? Condoms are only to prevent making a mess and don't even ask about dental dams bc Dream doesn't know.

But Hob does. Hob is around ten years older than Dream, one dissertation away from getting his Ph.D. and teaches a basic 101 course in history. He's not a total perv, but something is fetching about young college kids and their puppy-like exuberance. Dream just happens to be his next target after they meet at the help desk in the library. Dream just can't fucking write this ridiculous paper for his history class and is about to burst into tears when Hob helps him. This little dalliance leads him to ask if he would like a bit more money tutoring him on the side. Privately. In his dorm. Five times over the past week.

Now comes the downsides of fucking with college students. They're dumb. Like really really dumb. Dream is no exception. The weekend after their latest private tutoring session, in which Hob ate him out like a champ but on his insistance didn't fuck him, he finds Dream necking with another first year who also doesn't know what he's doing during a mixer. He's so angry he grabs the skinny little goth boy by the waist and drives them back to his place. Dream would have been scared if he wasn't so horny.

He forces Dream over the arm of the couch and rips his jeans down. Of course, the stupid slut doesn't wear underwear and his troublemaking cunt is on full display. They both find out Dream is a painslut as he begs Hob to forgive him by punishing him. How? By busting that cunt of course! Dream wails and fails, crying as sobbing as he's first spanked stupid and then fucked into with little to no prep. Just Hob's cock spearing into him, splitting him open over the coffee table.

Later on both of them agree this is by far the hottest thing that they've ever done.

But the morning directly after when Hob's semen is dry on his thighs and Dream can taste the previous night's regret on his tongue, they have a talk. Hob will have to take responsibility of course, and there won't be any family money to help them out. Mama Night is very clear about that. Any child of hers who gets pregnant before marriage is no child of hers.

Hob just has to laugh. After all, Dream can't get pregnant with him. An accident when he was a child featuring a flag pole and a too fast sled going down a snowy hill rendered him quite harmless. But he doesn't tell Dream that.

🎸

No sex-ed Dream my beloved 😭😭 I missed him so much 😭😭 and I love everything about this. Keep telling yourself you're not a perv, Hob. We don't believe you.

Of course it wouldn't be unreasonable for Dream to be anxious about a pregnancy scare after having unprotected sex. But Hob quickly notices that Dream is absolutely 100% convinced that he is pregnant. Like the stork already bought the baby. And little by little, Hob starts to pick away at Dream’s slightly odd understanding of how sex works.

Dream seems to think that every time a dick goes in a pussy, a baby is conceived. Doesn't matter if no one cums, and Dream doesn't seem to have any clue about ovulation or anything like that. Hob has to bite his own hand as he realises that Dream is just. Clueless. Innocent. So wonderfully, perfectly stupid.

The good thing is that with Dream under the impression that it's too late and he's already pregnant, he's much more open to having a cock inside him. So Hob finally gets to have Dream bouncing on his dick. He gets to bend his favourite undergrad over every surface in his dorm until the cum is dripping down Dream’s gorgeous thighs. Now he's had a little taste, Dream is definitely addicted and needy for Hob’s cock all the time. Sometimes Hob has to smack his pretty cunt in warning because he's being so greedy and impatient.

A few months pass by with the two of them fucking pretty much exclusively. Hob doesn't take an interest in any of the other cute barely-legals fluttering their eyelashes at him anymore. And Dream is only interested in his baby daddy <3

Hob honestly means to tell Dream that he's not actually pregnant. He does!! But. It's kind of hard when Dream is so convinced. Plus, it's to Hob’s advantage to have Dream believing he's knocked up. He'll say something soon, but... then he finds the pregnancy test?! And it's positive?!

Dream shrugs and he's like "Yes well I thought I should take one just to confirm." He doesn't understand why Hob is so gobsmacked. So Hob has to drag him through an entire detailed presentation on the reproductive system AND the whole story of how he was uhhh robbed of his crown jewels. Dream absolutely refuses to believe any of it for about 24 hours until he phones his sister and gets confirmation (poor Death).

Hob is starting to realise that maybe HE'S the stupid one because he's just spent weeks coming into Dream so many times that they've managed to achieve a miracle pregnancy. He can't get his head around it. Did he manage to knock Dream up? Is he being baby-trapped because Dream sees him as a decent provider for his child? Is the test a false positive? His groans of despair are muffled as he pulls Dream down and buries his mouth and nose in that gorgeous cunt. Dream maybe stupid (and possibly pregnant) but he's still got the prettiest pussy Hob has ever seen, and he's not done with it yet.

[princess-of-the-corner]

. https://www.tumblr.com/princess-of-the-corner/753150315348590592/all-these-well-off-kids-most-of-them-white-45?source=share

Heck, money rarely even plays into Chloe getting away with stuff, at least in the first three seasons. Her father abusing his position as mayor does occasionally let her do stuff through him like cancelling the music video. But we know Andre will clamp down on that stuff the moment it impacts 'him' & even then it seems to be used fairly rarely unless I miss-recall?

Honestly I think the reason Chloe avoided punishment sometimes is cos her actions were outside of school jurisdiction (Ripping up Rose's letter, embarrassing Kim on social media) or like, just verbal spats which don't seem to get anyone punished.

Generally the school just seems to not have much interest in discipline at all, which if it is a school for the upper class isn't even surprising.

Like the principle doesn't want anything to come from Alya & Nino breaking into Chloe's locker; he only acts on it when threatened with the mayor.

Most teachers don't seem to do much about Chloe's behavior but we also see them not do much about other students acting out. The most the art teacher did to Alyx for mocking Chloe till she ran off was express mild disappointment & then she went back to what she was doing.

Granted he could be operating on a "Modelling good behavior and minimal conflict" style of teaching like Madame Bustier but its very convenient that its mostly teachers with those preferences that seem to get hired.

Their scary science teacher is the exception but in the first 3 seasons we know she was fine telling Chloe to "Deal with it" and Chloe... Well just dealt with it.

As it is, given how far Lila had to go to get Marinette potentially expelled, frame her for cheating, theft & assault, as well as making such a big spectacle in front of everyone for it.

I think that Damocles just tries to avoid irritating any parents by penalizing their kids unless one raises a sufficient fuss (Lila) or basically pulls a "My parent is more powerful than their parent" card on him (Chloe)

Yeah its.

As mentioned: Punishing students seems to be so fucking low on the list of things to do for the staff.

Damocles doesn't punish Alya for breaking into and taking photos of the stuff in Chloé's locker, until Chloé plays the 'my dad, the mayor' card.

Lila had to do a LOT to expel Mari. The only times we see Bustier handling situations involves either sending the kid(s) to the principal's office('Ladybug', 'Origins') or pulling the most emotionally-charged one aside to cool off(best interpretation of 'Zombizou')

Even Mendeleiev, the harshest of the teachers? While she rudely shuts people down and roasted the hell out of Nathaniel, her biggest play is still 'send the kid to the principal'.

And we're not even going to touch the destruction of property and horrific violation of the Piss Window™ that Mari never got punished for.