#my dads the one that really wanted to watch it and my moms not into barbie so shes going with him but im pretty sure shes gonna end up-

[maretinelli]

HAMILTON INTERVIEW

DadLewis Hamilton X Mom!fem!reader

Summary: When Marie has a school activity where she needs to interview one of the parents about his profession, Pietra gets very excited and wants to do the same.

Words: 2.3K+

Warnings: Mentions of Lewis's career, Pietra jokes, cute daughters, funny couple teasing.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. This story is part of a miniseries, Universe of A NON-SEPARATION, but can easily be read as a standalone. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

The Hamiltons' house was in a peaceful late afternoon. The sun was already beginning to set, bathing the living room in a soft golden light. From upstairs, the sound of doors opening and closing indicated that Marie and Pietra were in their rooms, changing clothes and organizing their backpacks after the day of school.

On the couch, Y/n sighed as she settled down next to her husband. Lewis smiled sideways and, without hesitation, pulled her into a hug, nestling her against his chest.

"How was your day?" He asked, running his fingers lightly down her arm.

"Tiring. I had to make several appointments at the office and a team from a hospital contacted me, wanting to hire me to help with a major surgery next month." Y/n admitted, closing her eyes for a second, enjoying the contact. "I'll explain better later... Picking up the girls from school was the easiest part. And yours?"

Lewis laughed. "I spent all day relaxing with Roscoe on the couch."

Y/n opened her eyes and stared at him, feigning indignation.

"How envious!"

The pilot laughed again, but soon slid his hand to his wife's face, caressing her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. Their lips met in a soft, familiar touch, which gradually deepened. It was a calm kiss, the kind that didn't need to be rushed, just the moment. Lewis slid his fingers down the back of Y/n's neck, feeling the heat of her skin against his.

The moment, however, was interrupted by a familiar sound. Near the stairs, Marie cleared her throat, drawing her parents' attention.

The two walked away slowly and exchanged a knowing look before turning to Marie, who was watching them with a notebook and pencil case in her hands.

"Am I interrupting something?" She asked amusedly, arching an eyebrow and holding back a smile.

Lewis smiled, settling back into the couch.

"It depends... do you want to talk about something really serious or can we continue?"

"LEWIS!" Y/n lightly slapped his arm, laughing, before looking at her daughter. "What's wrong, honey?"

Marie smiled and ignored her father's joke, getting straight to the point.

"I have to do a paper on professions. I have to interview one of you."

Immediately, Lewis and Y/n exchanged a glance, as if they were competing for a valuable prize.

"Well, I think we all know which profession is more interesting here..." Lewis said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

"That's right..." Y/n agreed. "The medical one!!"

Marie laughed. "Actually... I chose Dad's profession."

"AHA!" Lewis cheered, looking at Y/n like he had just won a race. "Victory for me!"

Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing. "How unfair. I lost to Formula 1."

"Accept defeat with grace, doctor." He teased, smiling.

Y/n returned the smile before gently pushing him onto the couch.

Marie shook her head in amusement before sitting down on the floor and spreading her supplies out on the coffee table in the living room. Lewis soon followed suit, crossing his legs and settling himself in front of his daughter.

At that moment, Pietra came down the stairs, stopping when she saw the two of them sitting across from each other.

"Why are you like this? Are you going to arm wrestle?"

There was general laughter.

Pietra then crossed the room and threw herself next to her mother on the sofa, still looking suspiciously at the scene.

"Your sister has a school project to do with Daddy." Y/n explained, running her fingers through her daughter's curls.

"I want to do that too!"

Lewis turned to her with a warm smile.

"So grab some paper and pencil, little journalist. I'll answer any questions you want."

The youngest smiled excitedly and jumped off the couch, running up the stairs.

"BE CAREFUL, PIETRA!" Y/n warned, already anticipating her daughter's haste.

Meanwhile, Marie looked at her father. "The teacher gave us some questions we can use, but I made up some extra ones.

"I like the initiative." Lewis said, nodding. "Send the first one."

Marie looked at her notes and read aloud: "Why did you choose to be a Formula 1 driver?"

Lewis smiled, remembering the beginning of his career.

"Oh, that's an easy one. I've always loved running. Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. So I dedicated myself, trained hard, and through a lot of hard work, I got to where I am today."

Marie took notes in her notebook as Pietra returned from upstairs, carrying a piece of paper and several colored pencils. She sat next to her sister and watched curiously as Marie formulated the next question.

Y/n, sitting on the couch, rested her elbows on her thighs and smiled. She knew her Hamiltons like the back of her hand. Marie would ask detailed questions and take notes seriously, while Pietra, in a few seconds, would say something funny and unexpected.

It was just a matter of time.

"What was the most difficult moment in your career?"

Lewis raised his eyebrows, surprised by the complexity of the question. He was silent for a few seconds, thinking.

"Hm... I think one of the hardest moments was when I narrowly lost a championship. We work all year for this, and when it doesn't happen, it's frustrating. But I learned that it's part of the sport, and we always have to move forward."

Marie nodded, writing everything down carefully.

Beside her, Pietra shifted excitedly on the cushion where she was sitting and looked at her father.

"Now it's my turn!"

Lewis smiled, already expecting something unexpected from the youngest.

Pietra took her paper and began to draw with colored pencils. As she traced something on the paper, she asked: "If there was a race against a dinosaur, who would win?"

There was general laughter. Marie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile as she finished writing down her father's previous answer.

"Good question!" Lewis said, pretending to actually consider the question. "I guess it depends on the dinosaur. If it's a velociraptor, maybe it would be a handful, but if it's a T-Rex, I'll win hands down!"

Pietra nodded in agreement, as if she were an expert on the subject, as she continued her drawing.

On the couch, Y/n rested her face in her hands and laughed softly at the scene. Lewis looked away from her and smiled, his eyes shining with love. He loved seeing his wife having fun with the little things in the family. It was in these moments, in the midst of his daughters' fun chaos, that he realized how much he loved that life with them.

Marie finished writing and then turned to her father. "Daddy, how do you spell 'frustrating'?"

"Come here and I'll show you, honey," Lewis said, leaning over to read his daughter's notebook.

Marie brought the notebook closer and he pointed out the letters slowly, spelling them out for her.

“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “Thank you.” Once she had finished writing, Marie looked back at her list of questions. “Okay, next… How did you feel in your first Formula 1 race?”

Lewis gave a nostalgic smile.

"Oh, I was so nervous. It was one of the most exciting days of my life, and I just wanted to do my best. That's when I realized I was exactly where I always wanted to be."

Marie wrote everything down while Pietra continued drawing. The silence in the room lasted a few seconds until Marie realized something.

She lightly nudged her sister's arm and muttered softly, "P, your turn..."

Pietra raised her head, blinking a few times.

"Oh! It's true!"

She placed a finger on her chin and made a thoughtful expression before saying, "Daddy... have you ever slept inside the racing car?"

Lewis blinked, surprised by the question.

Y/n brought her hand to her mouth to hold back a laugh, while Marie shook her head, already used to her sister's unusual questions.

"Well..." Lewis crossed his arms, pretending to be thinking. "Not yet, but considering how much I travel, maybe one day I'll try!"

Pietra giggled and went back to drawing, satisfied with the answer. Marie just sighed, returning to her notes.

"Dad... what's it like for you to run and have a family at the same time?"

The question took Lewis by surprise for a moment. He looked away to Y/n, who was on the couch, watching everything with a calm smile. They exchanged a look full of affection before Lewis answered.

"At first, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to balance it all," he admitted, looking back at Marie. "But having you guys makes it all worth it. Every race I win, every podium, every hard lap... at the end of the day, I know I'll always come home to you guys, and that's the best feeling in the world."

Y/n smiled, feeling her heart warm with those words. Marie smiled too, writing everything carefully, while Pietra, who was focused on her paper and colored pencils, blurted out out of nowhere:

"If mom was a pilot, would you beat her?"

The silence lasted only a second before Y/n let out a surprised laugh.

"I loved that!" She said, looking at Lewis with a mischievous look. "So, Hamilton? Would I give you a hard time?"

Lewis tilted his head, pretending to think.

"Hm... I think you'd be a tough opponent, but in the end..." He paused dramatically. "I would win!!"

Y/n widened her eyes, pretending to be offended.

"WHAT?"

Marie laughed, while Pietra looked at her father with wide eyes.

"Daddy! But what if Mommy was like... really fast?"

"I drive well!!!" Y/n retorted, crossing her arms. "Do you think I would never win a race from you?"

Lewis laughed, defending himself. "You have talent, love, but... experience counts!"

"Oh, now you're trying to teach me about motor racing?"

Marie laughed more and more, while Pietra just looked from one to the other, amused.

"I think mommy would win, yes!" Pietra declared, going back to drawing on the paper.

"That's right, P!" Y/n joked, winking at her daughter.

Lewis shook his head, laughing.

Meanwhile, Marie remained serious and organized, writing the answers correctly, while Pietra had already given up on the interview and was decorating her paper with stickers and hearts around her father's name.

Lewis looked at her drawing and chuckled.

"P is more concerned with making art than writing down the answers."

"Hey, I'm writing it down my way!" Pietra said, holding up the drawing to show. She had drawn Lewis in a race car and a dinosaur running alongside him.

Lewis laughed out loud.

Marie shook her head and asked another question. "What was the most special day of your career?"

Lewis smiled and replied, telling about his first victory in Formula 1. But, in the middle of the answer, Y/n made a sound with her mouth and crossed her arms.

"Hm... I think he's forgetting something important..."

Lewis looked at her, confused. "What?"

"That the most special day of your career was when your daughters were born," she said with a smile.

Marie rolled her eyes, laughing. "Mom, that doesn't count as a day in his career..."

"Of course it counts!" Y/n insisted. "I remember you were almost born in the Mercedes garage. And when your father held you for the first time, he said you were the greatest trophy of his life."

Lewis smiled, nodding. "Okay, okay, you're right. The most important victory of my life was you three."

Pietra gave a satisfied smile, while Marie wrote it down in her notebook in a more serious manner.

The mood became more relaxed, and then Marie frowned thoughtfully.

"Did you know that when I was very little, I was scared of the noise of the cars when I went to my first GP?"

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "Really? You remember that? I was so little!"

Marie nodded. "I was about a year old, I think...but I remember it was really loud. I think I cried."

Y/n confirmed, laughing. "Yes, you cried and clung to daddy at the time. You only stopped when he started talking softly in your ear and calmed you down."

Lewis smiled at the memory. "And now here you are, writing down everything about racing. Who would have thought, huh?"

Marie smirked.

"Yes...the noise doesn't scare me anymore."

Pietra looked at her sister and made a funny face. "You were scared!"

"You cried the first time too!" Y/n says smiling

"I think it's a lie..." Pietra says amusedly, coloring the drawing.

Everyone laughed together.

After several questions, laughter, and memories, Marie closed the notebook with a satisfied sigh.

"I think I have everything I need." She said, looking at her father with a smile. "Thank you, Daddy."

Lewis motioned for her to come into his embrace and smiled. Marie stood up and walked over to him, hugging her father as he ran his hands through her hair.

"Anything for you, sweetie"

Marie smiled proudly as Pietra held up her drawing and showed it to her father.

"I'm done too! Look, Daddy! You're running next to a dinosaur!"

Lewis took the paper and looked at the drawing carefully. He held back a laugh when he saw the dinosaur next to his car, but smiled fondly.

"I think this race was the most exciting I've ever had!"

Pietra smiled with satisfaction and threw herself into her father's arms too, Marie looked at the drawing and laughed.

"Well, now I just need to make a clean copy and write the final text..." Marie looked at the notebook on the other side of the table, still next to her father, hugging his neck.

"Do you want help, daughter?" Y/n asked.

"No need, Mom, I can handle it."

"My organized girl!" Y/n approached the three in the hug and kissed Marie's head and soon after Pietra, Lewis smiled seeing his three girls.

"I think my drawing is also worth it as a school project! I'm going to paste it in my notebook!

"And I'm sure your teacher will love it," Lewis said, kissing the top of his daughter's head.

Y/n smiled, watching the two girls snuggle into their father's side. It was in these little things that she saw how lucky she was to have that family.

[bitchinbarzal]

Dad | J Woll

summary: he’s the dad that stepped up.

-

The first time Joey meets Finn, it’s chaos.

You’d given him a heads-up that your four-year-old was a ball of energy with no filter but you don’t think Joey quite believed you.

Not until Finn comes sprinting into the living room, arms spread wide like an airplane, skidding to a stop right in front of Joey’s legs.

Finn stares up at him, wide-eyed. “Mom says you play hockey.”

Joey, crouching to Finn’s level, nods. “That’s right, bud.”

Finn narrows his eyes. “Are you good?”

Joey laughs, glancing at you. “I like to think so.”

Finn’s head tilts. “Are you the one who stops the pucks?”

“Yep. I’m a goalie.”

Finn’s expression turns skeptical. “That’s a really big net.”

“Yeah, but I make it look small,” Joey grins.

Finn seems to consider this, then folds his arms. “Prove it.”

Your eyes widen. “Finn—”

But Joey is already on board, holding out a hand. “Alright, how about this? We grab a couple of socks, make a ball, and you try to score on me. If I stop it, you gotta call me the best goalie ever.”

Finn eyes him suspiciously before nodding. “Deal.”

Joey winks at you before following Finn to the hallway, where the impromptu game begins. You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching as Finn lets out exaggerated commentary about his own skills while Joey plays along, blocking each shot with ease.

Finn, ever competitive, tries harder, but Joey anticipates every move. Finally, Finn huffs, hands on his hips. “Okay. You’re kinda good.”

Joey grins. “Only kinda?”

Finn squints at him before conceding. “Fine. Best goalie ever.”

You shake your head, hiding a smile. Joey catches your eye and winks. And just like that, he’s in.

Joey eases into Finn’s life like he was always meant to be there.

At first, it’s small things — watching cartoons together, answering Finn’s endless questions about hockey, letting him steal his Leafs beanie even though it keeps slipping down over his eyes.

But then it turns into real things — taking Finn home from daycare, carrying him on his shoulders when he gets too tired to walk, knowing exactly how to soothe him after a bad dream.

And Finn? He adores him.

It’s easy to see in the way he lights up whenever Joey walks into the room, the way he tugs Joey’s sleeve at dinner to show him the “coolest dinosaur ever” on his placemat, the way he demands that Joey helps with bedtime stories because “he does the voices better.”

One night, you find them on the couch, Finn curled up in Joey’s lap, completely knocked out. Joey meets your eyes over the top of Finn’s head, his hand rubbing small circles on Finn’s back.

“Guess he likes me,” Joey murmurs.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, brushing a hand over Finn’s messy curls. “Yeah. He really does.”

Joey doesn’t say anything, just presses a soft kiss to Finn’s head before settling back against the cushions. And something in your heart clicks into place.

One afternoon, Finn storms into the kitchen, frustration written all over his tiny face.

“Mom,” he declares, arms crossed. “I don’t like that my last name is different than Joey’s.”

You nearly drop the plate you’re holding. “Oh.”

Joey, who had just walked in behind Finn, pauses. “What brought this on, bud?”

Finn turns to him, serious. “Jack said only real dads help with homework. And you always help me. So you should be my real dad.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air. You glance at Joey, unsure of what to say, but his expression is soft, careful.

“Well,” Joey kneels down, resting a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Family isn’t just about names, you know. I don’t have to be your real dad to love you like one.”

Finn frowns. “But I want you to be.”

Your heart clenches. Joey’s lips press together for a moment before he cups the back of Finn’s head. “No matter what, I’m always going to be here for you, okay? Names don’t change that.”

Finn studies him for a second, then seems satisfied. He nods, then reaches for Joey’s hand, tugging him toward the living room. “Okay. Can we play mini sticks now?”

Joey glances at you. You nod, offering him a smile, and he squeezes Finn’s hand. “Of course, bud.”

You watch them go, warmth spreading through your chest.

The first time Finn calls Joey “Dad” it’s completely accidental.

You’re in the kitchen, clearing up dinner plates, when Finn runs in, face bright with excitement.

“Dad, can we play mini sticks?”

Joey freezes. You do too. Finn, oblivious, just looks up at him expectantly.

Joey recovers first, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, buddy. Go grab your stick.”

Finn takes off down the hall. You and Joey stare at each other. Your heart is in your throat.

“Did you hear that?” Joey’s voice is quiet, careful.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He hesitates. “Are you okay with it?”

You swallow, stepping closer. “Are you?”

His expression softens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “More than okay.”

That’s all you need to hear.

From that day on, Joey is Dad. Maybe not by blood, but in every way that matters.

And when Finn, half-asleep one night, mumbles, “Love you, Dad,” Joey’s voice wavers just a little when he whispers, “Love you too, buddy.”

[treehoused]

I grew up an only child- I don't remember much of my early childhood, so I'm not sure how I felt then, but I know I've wanted siblings at least since my tweens, probably since I was younger.

My half-brother was born when I was about 8. My dad brought him and his wife to visit for a few days when I was 10 or 11, I saw my brother a few times during their visit but he was very shy so we didn't really interact. He died when he was 4, I was told I think a month after his funeral, I know nothing about him so I didn't really have any feelings about him. It really wasn't any different than being an only child.

My second half-brother was born just before I turned 15, and my third half-brother about a year later. I met them both that December, when the younger was about 7 months or so. The older was shy so I mainly interacted with the baby. I met just one of them about a month later, and again both of them the May before I turned 18. They're toddlers so and I've barely met them, so again, it doesn't really feel any different than being an only child. They're divorced now and my dad is a tool, so I probably won't ever see them again.

My half-sisters (twins) were born a few months after I turned 15. The first time I met them, I had so many intrusive thoughts about killing them, I was genuinely scared to get close to them. I didn't want to hold them, barely wanted to look at them, I was so scared.

I was also still dealing with pseudo-delusions at the time, so I semi-regularly prayed for them to be kept safe. I was terrified of them being hurt.

My feelings about them now are... complicated. I didn't grow up with my mom, so I have kinda bad attachment trauma with her, and I'm psych disabled in a way that means I still heavily rely on her. I still sometimes feel like she chose and chooses them over me, that it was selfish of her to choose to have children when I was and still am struggling so much, that she loves and cares about them more than me.

I do love them. They're adorable, watching them grow up is pretty cool, I'm glad they're doing better than I was at their age. I don't think I ever wish they didn't exist, not really, just... I do sometimes briefly hate them, because they're more important to my mom than I am.

I see them maybe a few times a month? We don't really play or anything, just vaguely hang out. I try to force them to watch Bluey with me and they just complain 😔

I never lived with any of my siblings, barely met half of them, and they're all still toddlers so I really don't have any kind of relationship with them. I feel like I'm sort of between being an only child and not- because I do have siblings, I just don't have any of the sibling experiences. Functionally, I'm an only child. I still wish I had siblings closer in age.

I think I mostly just wish I wasn't so alone.

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[bunnydotzip]

Daddy who rapes you but has convinced you that’s how every son and dad play so you love it and beg him to play with you every time your mom leaves 👕

minors DNI

"dad, dada, daddy! i wanna play our special game again!"

i'm sitting with my dad on the couch; as soon as mama heads out the door, i'm clambering over into his lap and tugging at the front of his shirt. he chuckles and puts his hands on my hips, pulling me just that little bit closer.

"is that right, kiddo?" he coos, big hands wandering up my sides and helping me take off my shirt. "so eager to play with your old man, aren't you? go on, baby boy, get dad nice and ready for ya."

in moments i'm kneeling between his legs, dazedly suckling at the head of my father's cock as he groans above me. i can feel it growing harder in my mouth, sucking harder- i gotta get daddy ready, after all!

"such a good boy," he pants once my jaw starts to hurt and i climb back into his lap. daddy's so hard now, cock heavy against his tummy as he helps me undress. "look at how much dad wants you, baby. mama never makes me feel like this, you're such a good boy."

i giggle as i straddle his lap, watching with my bottom lip between my teeth as daddy lines up to my dripping little cunt. "are you gonna try 'nd make it fit this time, daddy?"

"of course, baby boy." the thick head pops in, and i whine at the stretch- i've only ever been able to take half of daddy's cock at most, but i really wanna take it all. "fuck, i always forget how tight you are..."

"daaad," i whine, back arching as he thrusts upwards, pushing just a little deeper. "dad, daddy, gimme more, i can take ittt..."

with each thrust daddy works himself deeper inside me, with determined little wriggles of my hips every time he tries to say i've had enough. finally, finally i feel my hips meet his own, lips parted in a silent cry and back arched at the feeling of being stuffed so full. daddy's groans below me, pupils dilated and grip bruising on my hips.

"look at that," he breathes, one hand splaying over the bulge his cock makes in my little tummy. "god, baby boy, you took it all... i'm gonna have so much fun playing with you, sweetheart."

"please daddy, ruin meee..."

"heh. you got it, kiddo."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home Grown 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Cole Turner

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Cole and Eartha.

Summary: loneliness can drive one to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Cole is tired. He's never really not. He spends all day on his feet, cleaning up some clog in the drains or fending off the pests in the fields. There's not much going on aside from the constant battle with the earth for his livelihood. His family's too.

Ever since his dad had a stroke, it's been on him to balance it all. His sister if off who knows where with who knows his name and his mom is looking after his dad. So it's all up to him to keep this place going. And it's all on her to keep him going.

The shame used to make him squirm. His skin would burn and his blood would boil. He'd close his laptop and mope, feeling bad for himself, calling himself weak. Then he'd open it back up and keep doing it. His persistence became indifference, Not to her. No, he only ever thinks of her. He just doesn't care if it's wrong because it makes him feel right.

That night, he's addled. His dad isn't doing well, his mom is worried despite efforts to hide that, and he can't get an answer from his sister. She said she'd come see them so he could spend more time working. Not that he really wants to.

He slips his phone into the little plastic pocket to protect it from the water. He balances it on the rack that hangs around the showerhead and he cranks the faucet to a steaming spray. He stands under it as he lets it wash away the tension and waits for the stream to buffer. It's taking a bit today but sometimes it happens. Out here in the farm lands, reception is spotty.

It's not working. He's lathered up by the time the error shows. Disconnected... Strange. Why?

He gives up with a sigh. The one thing he has to look forward to and even that isn't going his way. He'll give Jensen a call when he's done.

He rubs dry his hair as the water drips down his legs onto the mat. He looks down at himself then moves to face his reflection in the mirror. He's not an ugly guy. He's not being a narcissist, he just doesn't think he's that bad. He shouldn't be alone. Still.

He huffs and wraps the towel around his waist. He grabs his phone from the show and closes the curtain. He walks down the hall and locks himself in his room. His bars are full. He shouldn't be having issues with a signal.

He dials out and waits for Jensen to pick up. He does right as Cole expects to go to voicemail. He's whisper.

"Hey, dude," Jensen scuffs around.

"Busy?" Cole asks.

"Eh, sorta, just..." he clears his throat. "All clear now, bud. What's up?"

"Mm, well... you remember... that... feed. So, er, it's not working."

"Hm, and it's just on her laptop?"

"Yeah," Cole sits on the bed and chews his thumb. "All of a sudden."

"Did the error have a code?"

"Uhhh yeah, I think," he recalls the numbers as best he can.

"Device is either off or broken. Could be both. You could give it a few days and see," Jensen suggests.

"Sure, but, er..." A few days is a long time especially when they're so slow. "Yeah, you're right. I'll wait her out."

"Dude, trust me, I get it. Boss went out of town last week and I saw her pack her favourite toy," he purrs grossly. "Anyway, it's about that time for me."

The line clicks. Good. Jake kinda weirds him out sometimes. He drops his phone.

He'll be cool about this. He can handle a few days without watching her. I mean, she's a stranger. They've never even met. She doesn't even know he exists. So he can log off and touch grass, so they say.

~

The days pass in a torturous slog of dirt, pollen, and lonely nights. Cole is wound tight, ready to snap as he has a thousand things pulling at him at once. His mom wants to hire a nurse, his dad is getting aggressive with everyone, and his sister just convinced his mom to send her money they don't have. Worst of all, he's alone. He's not sleeping because all he does is dream of her.

As he cuts away the rot from the tomato vine, he catches the tip of his glove, just enough to pinch himself good. He curses as a flash of rage swells in him. He whips the clippers into the dirt and snarls. Goddamn it!

He paces back and forth angrily. He rips off the gloves and tucks them into his workbelt. He combs his fingers through his hair and prowls like a wild beast. He can't take it anymore.

He takes his phone out and calls Jensen. It takes two tries but he gets an answer. Not a happy one.

"Dude, I had to leave a meeting--"

"Feed's down," Cole interrupts. "I'm having a real bad day and I need--- I need it."

"Jesus, you sound like it. Hm, okay, you know her email?"

"Uh, sure I do," Cole says.

"Right, you know everything," Jensen laughs. "Come on, guy, let's not pretend here. We're all a bit freaky. So, I'll send you something. Don't click on the link, got me? You take that template and forward it to her. I'll include instructions so you can dupe the sender... she'll think it's some bullshit coupon redemption or whatever. She clicks on it, you got full access again."

"Really? That easy?"

"Well it all depends on her, doesn't it?" He snorts. "Alright, I'll get that too you when I can. Gotta go."

The call ends. Cole leans against the fence and sighs. He better follow through. Better yet, it better work.

[miraculous-floconfettis]

Something i've been wondering about Emilie for a while

I have often wondered if Adrien suddenly wanting to go to school and sneaking out right after his mother disappeared had something to do with the fact that one of the two people who wore his amok wasn't there to control him anymore (especially since Emilie was the one who used the peacock Miraculous and thus, "created" Adrien).

Don't get me wrong, Emilie seemed to be a very kind and lively person. She definitely was a lot nicer to Adrien than Gabriel ever was, and Adrien always speaks very highly of her.

The Werepapas episode showed us a glimpse of what his life was before his mother disappeared and they definitely had a strong and sweet bond. They must have shared a lot of amazing and loving moments that will be forever engraved in Adrien's heart.

But nothing is ever black and white, especially in the show.

We've often assumed at the beginning of the show that Adrien growing up isolated from the world was Gabriel's doing, but we tended to forget that his mother was here when he was younger and he still wasn't allowed to go to school or have friends (let alone a birthday party). Emilie must have had a say in the way they raised Adrien and maybe she might have been against sheltering him, but she did nothing in the end, and Adrien was raised in a gilded cage till she disappeared.

We've only been shown crumbs of the person Emilie was when she was still alive and even though her light seemed dimmed in the videos Nathalie watched or in the Werepapas episode (because she was obviously sick), Emilie seemed to have a strong personality: Gabriel described Adrien as "emotional" and and also said things like "I have to apologize for my son, he’s like his mom, he’s way too overly dramatic" and "Quite a temper, you remind me of someone" before turning to his wife's painting in Simon Says.

What i'm reading between those lines is that Emilie wasn't an "overly dramatic" person, but seemed to be someone who stood her ground and didn't back off in front of her husband or anyone else, and wanted her opinions and wishes to be heard and fulfilled.

And even though i don't like the idea of her using Adrien's amok against him, it still was in the wedding ring she was wearing all the time.

Another thing is that Adrien is really fond of his mother so she definitely must not have been evil and she loved her son a lot and took good care of him. But as he lost her quite young, he also must have an idolized image of her.

The best example i can compare that situation with is Harry Potter: he grew up without parents so he created this perfect image of them in his head to compensate for his loss. Harry even defended his dad against Severus Snape when he accused James Potter of being "exceedingly arrogant". But in the later books, Harry came to face the hard truth that his father wasn't exactly the perfect person he thought he was (I'm not saying that Severus Snape was an angel, but he was actively bullied by James Potter and his gang so he has every right to loathe him). The only thing that differs in Harry's situation is that he was a lot younger than Adrien when he lost his parents. Harry never knew them, unlike Adrien who spent at least 13 years with his mom.

This is why i think that, even though Emilie was kind and loved her son more than anything, the only thing that Adrien remembers of his mom are the good times. The human mind often tends to choose to forget the bad times to compensate for the loss, and Adrien must have forgotten the bad memories like any person who lost a parent they loved would do (because there must have been bad times, any family as perfect as they want to be cannot be perfect all the time). 

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter six)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: ex!Tyler Owens x estranged wife!OC, Estranged Wife! OC x Rhett Abbott

Word Count: 2.5k

Playlist Song: chasing the wind by lanie gardner

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six

My hand is sweaty as I tug Rhett across the yard to my truck. I feel vindicated, my nerves on fire. The finality of the first steps toward freedom from a failed marriage that I didn’t walk away a weight lifted from my shoulders. When I get close enough to the truck, I turn to Rhett and release a deep breath. 

He’s staring down at me, warm and attentive. His blue eyes are so different from those of my ex. Where Tyler’s are vibrant and bright, Rhett’s are deep and soulful. He looks at me with a softness that makes me want to look away from the sincerity. He adjusts his cap, thumb fingering the worn threads on the brim. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I think my nerves are shot,” I admit. I release his hands to wipe my palms along the denim seams of my jeans. “I never thought I’d get to serve him those papers.” 

“I’m really proud of you,” he says. His smile is genuine. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been and I know how long you’ve been wanting to start to close that chapter.” 

I nod, still lost in his gaze. I get a little bashful, looking down at my boots and then look at the old truck by the barn. “Shit, I gotta get to my parents’ house and go check up on my dad.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, leaning against the hood. 

“And let you play hookie with your dad?” I say. The door to the porch squeals open and I can see Tyler watch us. Behind him, Kate’s head pops up. I look back to Rhett and shake my head. “No, I couldn’t do that…plus, I’ve got a lot of work to do this week. Big testing left to finish for our contract.”

“Right,” he nods. “Maybe we can go out Friday after my ride? Get some beers if the contract goes through?” Rhett’s voice is thick as he rocks on his toes.  

“I’d like that,” I say. 

He breaks out in a grin, kisses my cheek and breathes out a noise similar to a laugh. We whisper soft byes and he slips past me, heading back to his truck. He climbs in and waves, engine roaring to life as he peels out of a driveway. I climb in the truck, turning the truck on as my phone starts to ring again. I tuck it under my ear as I back out the driveway. 

“Hi ma, I’m on my way,” I say, turning onto the main road. The radio roars to life, blasting way too loudly. I drop my phone in the process of trying to turn down the music. 

“El, before you head in our direction for the day…there’s a cell headed in your direction,” my mom shares. I can hear my dad in the background again. The mumbles of “big one” and “perfect data” are all I can catch. 

“Ma, I’m not about to let Dad go without his meds just so we can do a study drill,” I tell her, watching the collect of clouds move through the area. It does look like a perfect condition though. The fields are starting to breeze heavily, the tall Oklahoma grass sways in the breeze. “What’s the moisture?” 

“That’s my girl,” my dad grumbles as there’s a shuffle of them passing the phone. “Dew points sitting at a 76°F sweetheart. And don’t worry about me. The doc gave me a few days worth. This is too good of conditions for your contract. Perfect testing grounds.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, checking the time. The team was all planning to be at the warehouse anyways today…

“Sure,” he says. “Go get ‘em…and invite the team to join us tomorrow alright? Uncle Rabbit has been anxious to hear about everything,” he says. 

“I will and I’ll see you guys tonight, alright?” We say I love you and hang up. I hit Charlie’s number and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder. I take a deep breath as the phone rings, swinging the steering wheel so that I can wipe around in the other direction. The tires squeal just as Charlie picks up. 

“I was waiting for your call…” she says with a knowing tone. 

“My parents called me. Dew point of 76?” I ask, picking up speed as I take off in the direction of the warehouse.

“Relative humidity is about 79%,” Charlie reads. “They haven’t lost their touch clearly. Are you on your way?” 

I pass by a familiar RV, huffing as I notice them turn in the same direction that I head down. “C’mon, c’mon,” I grumble, checking the rearview mirror to see if its really who I think it is. 

“El?” 

“Yes, yes. I’m on my way. Get the team ready…and,” I look again at the rearview mirror. “Get some extra gear ready…I think we’re going to end up getting some excitable parasites.” 

She groans loudly. “Seriously?” 

“Can’t shake ‘em so might as well entertain.”

“Right,” Charlie says, “because that’s what we do…entertain. CAPE is nearly hitting 3,000 J/kg…you gotta hurry up or you’re going to be in the storm…not studying it.”

“I’m nearly there, open the gate so I can pull right in when I get there” I say, watching the sky turn a little darker. I pick up speed, tossing my phone on the seat as I focus on the road and not on the storm building in the distance. I look in the rearview mirror again, too excited by the storm conditions to be frustrated with my ex and his friends. I pull up to the gate quickly, the RV rumbling behind me as we drive up to the warehouse. 

Boone pulls in to the right of me as I shut off the truck, climbing out as Birdie closes the gate behind me. Charlie tosses me a walkie and my vest, passing me my iPad as we pace down the warehouse toward the other door. “You idiots can’t just show up because you’re excited by a tornado,” I say to the group, walking backwards as my friends hand them bright orange vests - the ones we normally give to investors and clients. 

“We saw you zip past,” Javi says, smiling sheepishly. “Couldn’t help ourselves. I’ve always wanted to know how you guys do your testing. I studied your parents’ work when I was in school, inspired by the technology you’ve invented.”

“Well, stay close to one of us on the field. Y'all might be tornado wranglers but we aren’t taming tornadoes here,” I say, glancing at Tyler as I get to the others. “We’re trying to help protect and save people from losing their livelihoods.” 

Birdie runs through the safety protocol for the wranglers and I’m a little shocked at how contained they are in listening. Even Boone, normally shaking with excitement, remains still as he listens to our rules. “Your vests all have chips in them for your safety so that we can locate you in the case of…in the case of anything going wrong. Don’t take off the vest. We stay safe, we stay alert,” she finishes. She looks at me. “Good?” 

“Let’s go get this contract,” I murmur, turning to head to my building.

“Eleanor?” I turn to see Kate and Tyler catching up to me. Kate isn’t paying attention to Tyler. She looks unsure as rain starts to pour from the sky, the wind wiping around to pick up. Our phones start to ping with warning sounds. Kate’s hair wipes in her face and I clip my walkie to my belt, grabbing a hair tie from my wrist to pass to her. “Thanks…do you mind if I join you?”

I look up at Tyler behind her. She turns, following my gaze. “Tyler, go with Javi,” she says, causing him to stop in his tracks. He raises a brow, looking between the two of us as the wind picks up. 

“Go Tyler, hurry up,” I say, pointing to where Javi is heading with Carter into the Doctor’s office. He looks between the two of us, hesitating. I can see the hero complex fighting to wash over him. I guess he decides against it though, nodding and turning to run to where the other two men are. He disappears inside, giving us one last look before he goes. 

A crack of thunder rattles through the air, causing me to move. “C’mon, this way,” I tell her, tugging her into the direction of the Grille. I push the door open, ushering her inside. I flip the lock system and nod over to the monitors in the safe corner that we built into the buildings. I log into the tracking system, the camera views pulling up for me to watch the conditions outside. I tug my walkie from my belt and call “Everyone in?” 

I get an echoing of confirmations, nodding as I type a few things into the tablet for testing conditions and peer back at Kate. She’s glancing around the space, taking in the mock town set up. Her eyes are filled with wonder, curiosity stretching over her eyes. The wind starts to whip around loudly outside and something large slams against the side of the building, making her jump. “So these buildings are all made of-,” she starts to ask. 

“All different developed materials,” I say, nodding and turning back to the screen. She steps over to me, staring at each view of the buildings we are studying. I point to each, explaining further. “The warehouse was the guinea pig. She’s all tried and tested, kind of what we use as a base standard. She’s got steel-reinforced, impact-resistant roll-up doors, concrete & carbon fiber roof reinforcement, and smart glass skylights with polycarbonate coating. Though I’ve been considering building an underground storage lift for the trucks…haven’t had the time.”

“The doctor’s office and the farmhouse are nearly perfect,” I share as we watch more debris roll through the field, slamming into different buildings as the building rattles. “They’ve both got shock absorbent foundations. The doctor’s office is built with a concrete material infused with bacteria that generate limestone….it self-heals against the wind stress. We’ve also been testing some hardened rooftop turbines and solar panels for emergency energy even if the grid or generators fails for a potential contract with hospitals. The house has interlocking concrete panels and kevlar in the wall panels with kevlar so that it bends in the wind instead of tearing apart. The windows have been the hardest so we’ve been testing transparent aluminum.” 

She blinks, taking in all the information I share. “Too much?”

She shakes her head no, mouth parting. Nothing comes out. 

“Tyler and Javi are safe,” I note and she nods absentmindedly. I don’t know why I say it. 

I turn back to the screen and watch the way the foundation of the home shifts, holding against the pressure of the tornado. “Palmer, how are you guys holding up? How are those windows? Over,” I call over the radio. 

The door to the Grille starts to rattle in the distance and I let out a breath, tugging the door to our safe room closed and locking it as we wait for a reply.  There’s only a crackling silence for a few moments. 

“Holding steady over here boss,” she says. “I think we’ve done it. And uh…what’s your name…Dexter is really enthusiastic with his questions. Over.” 

I can’t help the laugh that comes out, looking up at Kate. “Happy to hear, over.” 

“We’ve figured the reinforced concrete is the way to go for most of the buildings. The gas station has a new roof design that’s more aerodynamic with the angled kevlar roofs and curved walls to deflect the wind,” I point out. “Birdie has been taking  that building because she and Sean have been testing new fuel storage to protect against-,” I’m cut off as a large shrapnel of metal flies through the air, slamming into the tank and puncturing the metal. Flames erupt in the air as the tank bursts open. “That…shit…”

“The fuel tank blew up again,” Birdie says over the walkie, Boone and Lily screaming in excitement clear in the background. She sounds like a tired mother when she says “Didn’t penetrate the station though which is progress, over.” 

“Happy to hear, over,” I call as I hear another rattling, some metal grinding and a burst of glasses from outside the safe room. The wind is loud as Kate turns to the locked door, stepping closer to me. 

“El, the refrigeration system just blew but I’m happy to report the roof is holding. This storm’s taking some of the Grille with it from the look of the monitor. You holding tight for us? Over,” Sean calls. 

He’s right. Even though it’s fairly quiet inside the safe room we're locked inside, the Grille doesn’t seem to be holding well against the strength of the tornado. The feed goes dead after another moment and I sigh. “Our feeds have gone dead but we’re safe otherwise, over,” I say, turning to Kate. 

She looks a little more shaken than when we got into the building, gripping the counter of the desk as she digs her hip against the wall tightly. 

“I know it's kind of freaky but I promise you are safe here. The grocery store and this building are newer designs so we put these safe rooms in to make sure we can safely troubleshoot from inside the storm. We’ve been working on retractable tornado shutters but the shipment prototype hasn’t come in yet. But it sounds like the new support beams are holding up the roof. That’s a big win from the last storm,” I say, pointing to the ceiling as the whistle of the wind outside becomes less harsh. 

It’s quiet for a long time as she just stares at me, blinking a few times. “Kate…are you alright?” I step toward her a little. 

“This is wild,” she breathes, trying to shake out of whatever emotions and fears are running through her. 

“No more wild than driving into an EF5,” I say with a small shrug, leaning back in my chair. It’s not meant to come off as a shot at her, really more that crazy for science and change for community respects crazy for science and change for community.

Kate’s gaze is heavy, her eyes glossy. “I didn’t know,” she just blurts out. Her voice is strong, almost loud. Her words sit in the air, her fingers find purchase on the mesh of her vest as she fiddles with it. 

I don’t know if I’m surprised or confused. She didn’t know it was an EF5? Or did she mean she didn’t know that she was driving into it? Or did she mean the building?

She clears her throat, stands up straighter. “I didn’t know he was married.”

A/N: Well, I was not expecting to research and get so sciency with this one but that's where the story took me! I am not a science/engineering type so forgive any inaccurate science information. I'm really loving exploring El as a character outside of her relationship with the men. All your comments and feedback has been incredible! please continue to send any along and click here if you want to join the taglist!

taglist:

@tw232103, @arieltwvdtohamflash, @magicalfurykoala, @janoskiansecondsofdirection, @fever-daydreamm @buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004 @charmyeol69-blog @tktstomydwnfall @milesdot @arieltwvdtohamflash @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sunmoon-01 @memoriesat30 @tw232103

[cassiopeiaiaia]

I kinda did something

It’s only like the first chapter but I may be brewing smth up here.

This is hopefully gonna simmer into a full 10 Things I Hate About You AU.

Idk tho.

“Soda!” Ponyboy’s shrill voice rings out from across the house. “Where did you put my Harry Potter books?”

Soda barely looks up from his duffel bag, shoving another pair of jeans in. He loves his kid-brother, he really does, but Pony’s always finding something to be yellin’ his head off about.

“Hell if I know. I don’t read, Pony-buddy.”

He hasn’t touched a single one of those godforsaken novels since they read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in third grade and he mistook the word fortune for foreskin. Got himself some real funny looks for that one. Earned himself a detention, too.

“They were on my shelf this morning,” Pony whines, stomping into the room looking entirely too distraught for someone who just lost a couple of books about some British kid with glasses. “And now they’re gone!”

“Maybe they ran off,” Soda mutters, rolling up a t-shirt and cramming it in the bag. “Maybe they couldn’t take any more of your nerd-ass re-reads.”

Pony scowls, arms crossed. “Darry took them, didn’t he.”

Ever since Mom and Dad died, it seemed as if Darry and Ponyboy were always at each other’s throats. Every conversation turned into a fight, and every fight ended with Soda playing middleman.

Still, if Darry did take those books, there was a high chance Pony would never see them again. These past few days, Darry had been donating, selling, and throwing stuff out like a madman, ruthless in his decisions.

Mom’s cookbooks she got as a birthday present from Aunt Carol? Gone.

Dad’s old leather watches? Sold to the highest bidder.

Soda’s Schleich collection? He came home one day to find them stacked in a box on Darry’s backseat, on its way to Goodwill.

He didn’t really need those horses, but still, it hurt. They were from Mom and Dad. And they were his.

But Darry was being practical. The house was almost empty now, their lives reduced to boxes and garbage bags, packed tight and ready for a one-way trip to Washington. A new start. A place with Aunt Maggie, Keith, and Brenda, who offered to take them in after the accident.

It wasn’t like they had a choice. They couldn’t afford the house, and Darry couldn’t work himself into the grave trying to keep them all afloat. So they were leaving. Leaving Tulsa, leaving their home, leaving everything that still felt like their parents.

Pony didn’t want to go. Neither did Soda, if he was being honest. But Darry had made up his mind. And once Darry made up his mind, that was it.

Soda exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Pony. But if Darry took them, you better say your goodbyes.”

Pony groans, dragging his hands down his face. “I knew it. I knew it. He’s been on some kind of warpath lately—first my rock collection, now Harry Potter?”

Soda zips up his duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Pony, you had a rock that looked like a kidney stone. You needed that gone.”

Pony glares at him, scowling. “That was an agate, you uncultured swine.”

Soda snorts, stepping past him. “You’re startin’ to sound like Dad.”

Pony follows on his heels, still fuming. They find Darry in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he wipes down the counters with all the enthusiasm of a man scrubbing crime scene evidence. A half-filled box labeled DONATE sits on the table, and sitting right on top—like some kind of sick trophy—is Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Pony gasps so dramatically he might as well have been stabbed. “I knew it!”

Darry barely looks up. “If you knew it, why are you acting so surprised?”

Pony marches over, snatching the book from the pile. “You can’t just throw out my stuff, Darry!”

“I can if it’s been gathering dust for two years.” Darry grabs a dish towel and flicks it at him, missing by inches. “You read these so much I could recite half the spells, and I don’t even like ‘em.”

Soda leans against the fridge, watching like it’s a Saturday morning cartoon. He hates it when his brothers fight, but it sure is entertaining.

“That’s not the point,” Pony huffs, clutching the beat-up book to his chest like Darry might wrestle it away. “You didn’t even ask me!”

Darry exhales sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have room for junk, Ponyboy. We’re barely gonna have room for us.”

That one lands hard, and for a second, Pony doesn’t have a comeback. Soda watches his little brother’s shoulders tense. Darry, always practical, always making the tough calls. He doesn’t mean to be heartless—he just doesn’t have time to think about things like memories and sentiment when there are bills to pay and mouths to feed.

When their parents died, Darry took charge, like he always did. Like he had no choice but to. Which, he kinda didn’t. But sometimes Soda wonders if Darry thinks moving will make it hurt less. If getting rid of everything their parents touched would get rid of the pain too. If leaving will mean they don’t have to walk past their parents’ bedroom every day and remember that nobody sleeps there anymore.

But the thing is, Soda thinks, leaving won’t change any of that. Their parents are still gone. Their home is still empty. And the world is still going to exist without them in it.

Soda sighs, stepping in before this turns into another screaming match. “Alright, look. Pony keeps his nerd books. You keep being a tight-ass about space. We all win.”

Darry mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue. Pony shoves the book under his arm and stalks off, muttering something about fascism.

Soda watches him go before turning back to Darry. “You did get rid of my Schleich horses, didn’t you?”

Darry doesn’t answer.

Soda groans. “Goddammit, Darry.”

The night air is sticky with summer heat, even though Pony’s inside. Tulsa always holds onto heat longer than it should, like the pavement and air itself don’t know how to let go.

Ponyboy is feeling a lot like Tulsa right now.

He should be inside packing, packing up Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets into that ugly red suitcase Dad bought for him four years ago, for summer camp. It was the same camp Dad went to, Camp Loughridge, and he was so excited for Pony to go.

Was.

Pony’s dad is now a was.

It’s a word Pony tries not to think about, but he sees it everywhere–when he looks over at the empty chairs at the ends of the dining table, when he hears a deep, hearty laugh in the crowd and turns a little too quick, when he opens a drawer and finds something of Dad’s shoved away in a corner and forgets, just for one second, that he’s not coming back to claim it.

Now, he’s finding it in the ugly red color of his suitcase.

It’s too small. It always was, even four years ago, packing for a fortnight away at a campsite. His books don’t fit right, the zipper keeps catching, and it’s ugly, a too-bright red that stands out against everything else he owns. He’s thought about leaving it behind. But it was Dad’s pick—Dad’s idea—so Pony keeps shoving things inside, even though it’ll never close right.

It’s like trying to pack up himself.

Trying to make grief fit into neat little spaces, to fold it away in boxes and suitcases and goodbyes that don’t feel real.

And Pony doesn’t work that way. Not like Darry.

Perfect Darry, who can’t seem to wait to get rid of every single piece of jewelry Mom owned.

Who can’t wait to get out of Tulsa, where he can scholarship his way into college.

Who can’t wait to get rid of Pony and Soda.

Well, not Soda. Nobody ever wants to get rid of Soda. He’s the golden boy, the one who can make anyone smile, the one everyone gravitates toward.

If Darry is cold as night, then Soda’s the Sun, pulling everyone into his orbit.

And Pony? Pony’s always been the extra piece. The one Darry didn’t ask for, the one that made things harder.

And now, Darry finally has an excuse to be rid of him.

Ponyboy’s throat feels tight, like there’s something lodged in it that he can’t swallow down. He kicks the suitcase aside like it’s done him wrong. Maybe it has. Maybe it’s proof that this is real, that tomorrow morning, they’ll pile into a car and leave Tulsa behind forever.

He can’t fucking stand it.

Without thinking, he grabs his jacket and slips out the door. He doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s already halfway there.

The park.

It’s quieter at night, just the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees, and the occasional hum of a car passing in the distance. The swings creak in the wind, empty.

****

Ponyboy’s feet are dragging through the dirt, just barely keeping up with his dad as they head for the swings. It's a rare moment, just the two of them, after a long day of yard work, the sun starting to dip low, turning the sky a soft golden orange.

Darry was at the movies with his school friends, and Mom was inside helping Soda with his English homework, so Dad offered to take Pony to the park.

“You ever get tired of it, Pone?” His dad’s voice is unexpectedly soft as he stops by the swing, hands on his hips, looking at the horizon.

“Tired of what?” Pony asks, confused.

“Of this.” His dad gestures to everything—the neighborhood, the park, the world. “Of Tulsa, I guess. Y’know, it’s a small town, ya’ ever get tired of not being able to do everything you want.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. I got time.” Pony stops, not really thinking about it. Sue him, he was eight and bored and he wanted to flip off the swings like Curly Shepard did. He got on, and swung his feet back and forth.

His dad chuckles, but it sounds like a sigh. He grabs the swing and gives it a push. “Time’s a funny thing, Pone. Feels like you’ve got all of it, and then one day, you turn around, and it’s gone.”

Pony’s brow furrows, confused. “But you said—”

“Just listen, buddy. Don’t take it all for granted, okay? Because one day, you’ll be sitting here, looking at all this, and realize you didn’t even appreciate what you had.”

Pony looks at the swing, and he feels like he’s supposed to get it. His dad is looking at him with that serious, almost worried expression he gets when he thinks he’s not being clear enough.

“I don’t get it,” Pony admits, and his dad ruffles his hair.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You’ll figure it out.” Then, more lightly: “How ‘bout a race to the slides? Bet I can beat you.”

Pony smiles, feeling lighter. “You’re on.”

He was eight, too young to brood.

They run, side by side, but by the time they reach the slide, Pony’s dad is already laughing and pretending to be out of breath.

Pony grins and shakes his head, but in that moment, there’s no one else in the world but them.

****

When you’re eight, you don’t know the score.

But at fourteen, Pony thinks he knows better.

Well, at least, he knows what Dad meant now. When Pony was little, he always assumed his parents would be around forever. Well, he knew on a basis that they’d die, but that was supposed to be later, when Pony was an old man. And that seemed like forever.

But now? It’s like the universe is giving a giant fuck you with the way everything’s turning out.

He can’t stop thinking about it—how fast everything shifted, how quickly his parents were gone. One day, they were alive, and the next, they were gone. Dead. And they can never go back, never go back to when Pony was eight and his parents weren’t a was. The world seemed so big back then, with so much time ahead of him, but now it’s closing in.

Every time he looks around, it’s like he sees the remnants of what used to be. The neighborhood they’ve lived in his whole life, the park where his dad once raced him to the slides—it’s all the same, but it feels different. Smaller, somehow. More permanent in its stillness, like it’s frozen in time while he keeps moving forward, leaving everything behind.

It’s not that he didn’t hear what his dad was trying to say that day. He heard the words. He just didn’t understand them. Time always felt like something you had too much of, something that would stretch out forever if you didn’t pay attention. But now? Now, it’s like he’s running out of it. Running out of time to get things right, running out of time to figure out what he’s supposed to do with the pieces of himself that feel like they died with Mom and Dad.

He wishes he could go back to being eight, when he thought there was always tomorrow. When the world was just a place for games and who tattled on who during recess, and the biggest problem was whether or not he could flip off the swings like Curly Shepard.

But that's gone, and now the swings sit empty, swaying in the wind.

Pony’s fucking gone.

Pony’s fucking gone because Darry yelled at him and–God, does he ever do anything but that? Yelling?

Darry never used to yell, at least he doesn’t think he did. But now it’s like the words just come out before he can stop them, spilling out sharp and mean and cutting through the air. Like every single thing his little brother does is the last straw, like he’s the one that’s gotta hold everything together now.

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s just easier to snap at the kid who’s still there than it is to deal with the parents who aren’t.

But Darry can’t stop it. He doesn’t know how to.

Pony’s the same level of insufferable he was before Mom and Dad died, which means annoying—but not God-help-me-or-else-I’m-gonna-strangle-this-kid-annoying like Kid Shepard is. No, Pony’s just… Pony. So why the hell does Darry always feel like his throat is closing up every time he opens his mouth? Every time he yells, every time he says something too sharp? Like he can’t stop himself from tearing this family apart with words.

Darry grabs another box from the countertop, the flaps already taped shut but not quite sticking as they should. If Darry never smells the God-awful smell of Sellotape again in his life he still win’t be content. His hands shake as he fumbles with it, trying to push everything down further, just like he’s been doing for the past few days—shoving all the pieces of their old life into boxes, all the memories, all the things that used to matter. But it doesn’t matter how hard he tries, there’s always one piece left behind. One thing that refuses to squeeze into the corners of his perfect, neat world.

It’s the guilt.

The guilt he can’t shake, even when the world keeps moving forward like nothing’s wrong.

Darry exhales, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s exhausted. He’s been exhausted for months, ever since that goddamn phone call in the middle of the night—the one that fucked up his whole entire life.

It’s maybe his fault they’re dead.

He doesn’t let himself think about it often, but some nights it just creeps in. Like now.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been out that late if it wasn’t for him. Wouldn’t have been on that road, in that storm, driving back from picking up a stupid birthday cake he never even got to eat.

They’d still be here. Still be breathing. Still be telling him to get off Soda’s ass for being a man-whore and laughing at Pony’s stupid little quirks instead of snapping at them.

He’d still have football, and his friends, and Randy.

Soda wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job just so they wouldn’t starve, about dropping out to make more time for that job, about smiling like everything’s perfect when Darry knows damn well it’s not even close.

Pony wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him, wouldn’t have to flinch when Darry raises his voice, wouldn’t have to come home to a brother who’s too exhausted to be the kind of guardian he deserves. Wouldn’t have to grow up without a Mom and Dad.

Because Mom and Dad would still be here.

And Darry?

He could still be himself.

Darry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. No. He can’t do this right now.

What he can do is find Pony. Because even if Darry’s pissed off, even if he’s sick of the fighting, even if his head is so full of responsibilities and grief and guilt he feels like he might explode—Pony is still his brother. And Darry might not know how to be soft with him, but he does know how to keep him safe.

And right now? That means making sure he’s not alone in the middle of the night, wandering off to God-knows-where, in a city that doesn’t give two shits about three orphaned boys trying to hold their lives together.

Packing can wait. He has to go find his baby brother.

What if there was a 10 things I Hate About You Outsiders AU, with either Dylvia (Sallas? Dylvia? bro idk) as Patrick/Kat, or Stevepop or Purly.

Am I on to smth?

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

It's crazy how I can be like "I'm having a depressive episode" until I'm with the right people and then it's like oh no I'm ok actually

[sukibenders]

Looking back at Girl Meets World, it will forever irritate me especially for how they handled/treated Angela. Oh this show really hated black women because how do you not only 1.) describe her, one of (correct me if I'm wrong) only few black and MAIN characters of the og show, as a "concept" 2.) have characters show obvious disgust at the small mention of her name 3.) depict her as a homewrecker for a new relationship that, really, shouldn't have ever happened 4.) have her old friends treat her like dirt and her old lover like she is the root of his problems, when there was nothing but positive love there 5.) reuse all the concepts from said previous love story just to elevate the new ship with a yte woman and 6.) compare her to Hurricane Katrina, one of the deadliest hurricanes that caused significant numbers of death, harm, misplacement, and trauma to people, largely of whom were black? Mind you, all these points I mentioned were toward the only main black character of the OG show before the spinoff, and the only, from what I can remember, black female character of the spinoff who didn't even stay long. Not even getting into the racist drama with some of the members on set, but you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that the way the show handled Angela, her story, and her relationship with the other characters + Shawn wasn't fucking disrespectful, you can't because I won't believe you.

[bitchinbarzal]

Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

[pickled-flowers]

Saw some of the grossest parenting today in the bus

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[watermelinoe]

my niece once got upset w my dad bc he wouldn't buy her some overpriced drunk elephant skincare product. she was freaked out about getting wrinkles. at age eight. i wish her mom had never bought her that damn smartphone

[the-kneesbees]

just watched my brother graduate

[pronounrespector]

Who else up thinking about how one day they are inevitably going to disappoint their mother to no return