#that I'm still kicking. and I'm just. so very grateful to every last one of you.

[byanyan]

so anyway, thanks for reading my little dissertations on byan's gender. sorry for not writing again today, i'm just. i'm fuckin goin through it rn man

[thebestsetter]

- I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me

- What? - Rin asked as he stared at the girl

- I said - (Name) said while not taking her eyes off the horror movie her and Rin were watching - I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me. Ya know, like Bachira does to his girlfriend - she sighed dreamly - or Isagi. Hell, even Kaiser dedicates his goals to his girlfriend.

- Hm - Rin said, taking his eyes off her and looking back at the TV - that's kinda stupid. Everyone knows you're dating me, so why would I need to do that? The game should continue as quickly as possible, so it would just be a waste of time.

The girl finally looked at him. If he stopped paying attention to that movie and decided to look at her too, he'd see the sad look in her eyes. The girl sighed again (this time, out of disappointment) and got up from the sofa.

- Hey, where are you going? - Rin said, finally pausing the movie (just as the main character was almost getting caught by the big, bad and scary monster) and looking at her again

- I'm going to bed - she responded. Quick, short and emotionless. Exactly the opposite of what her answers should be

- Then I'm going too - Rin got up from the sofa, kind of grateful that she made him turn off that horrible movie (he liked horror movies, but this one was ridiculous. The monster looked like phlegm and the script looked like it was written on colored paper with crayons by a 5 year old)

- Hm - she hummed, and the teal eyed boy was starting to get uncomfortable with her responses (or the lack of them)

Without another word, the couple went to their shared bedroom. (Name) sat down on the bed and decided to spend the next 30 minutes surfing the internet and liking some cute cat videos, while Itoshi went to the bathroom to shower (the last time he had taken a shower was in the morning, before breakfast. Yucky!).

When he finally locked the door, (Name) suddenly got a call from her best friend. She decided to pick up, since the girl always knew exactly how to cheer her up

- Hey (Name)!

- Hey.

- Okay, You can stop giving me that attitude, young lady. What happened?

Sighing for the third time in a span of 30 minutes, (Name) decided to tell her about the disgreement with her boyfriend.

- So yeah, I got kinda sad. He basically said our relationship was a waste of time, you know?

- I can't believe that bastard really said that. "That's stupid". If anything, he's the stupid one! - she said, mocking Rin by mimicking his voice. A very poor imitation, may I add. But it made you giggle, and that was exactly what she wanted - can't believe you're still going to his game tomorrow!

- Yeah - you said, a lot more happy thanks to the conversation with her - But can you blame me? VIP session, baby! - you both chuckled

- True. Well, I have to get going - she said, sadly cutting your convo short - I have a job interview tomorrow, since not all of us date a football player - she playfull rolled her eyes - but it was amazing talking to you!

- You always know how to make me smile. Thanks.

- Don't mention it! If he ever pulls any shit like that again, just break up with him OR don't hesitate to call me. I'll kick his ass for making my pookie wookie sad - she answered, using that ridiculous nickname you begged her to stop using

- Will do - you smiled - now go to sleep. You need to be in good form tomorrow!

- I'll get that job opportunity, you'll see.

- I don't doubt you one bit

- Bye, good night!

- Night! - (Name) said, turning the call off and finally going to sleep with a calmer mind.

What she didn't expect, however, was that Rin was hearing every. second. of. the. call.

It's not like he wanted to hear it, he just happened to be attently listening to every word (Name) said and trying to understand what her friend said too. It's not his fault his gf uses speaker mode!

The Itoshi got out of the bathroom and stared at the phone with a dumbfolded expression, not believing ehat he had just heard.

"I can't believe (Name) got mad because of that" because of me, is what he really thought, but he decided to lie to himself claiming that "it wasn't his fault"

- ...why are you looking at my phone like that? - the girl said after being woken up by the light coming out of the bathroom.

- Like what?

- Like that!

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Okay then. If you're acting stupid to make me angry, congratulations! It's very effective

- I'm not acting stupid

- You're right! You're not acting stupid, you are stupid

- Hold on - he put his hands in front of his body - are you seriously mad at me for not wanting to dedicate you a goal?

- Wow! What a genius!

- Not a fan of the attitude

- Not a fan of you being an asshole

Rin decided that arguing was useless. Afterall, you were always very sarcastic when mad, so any efforts to make you less angry were fruitless. There was only one way to solve this argument, and Rin already knew what he was gonna do. So, he finally decided to lay in bed.

- Nuh uh, you're sleeping on the couch tonight.

- What?! You wouldn't do this to me.

- Yep, I would. Couch. Now.

Yeah. He had to solve this shit fast.

"And there he goes again, Rin Itoshi dominating the field once more! "

He was at the top of his game today. It almost made you pity the other team, really. Two goals in the first half of the game is a big deal. And, sadly, none of them were dedicated to you. Not that you were expecting it. You knew how stubborn Rin was, but you were just as (if not even more) petty.

So, you decided you would leave the game early. You wish he could see you leaving, but he would notice your absence sooner or later.

- Wow, this game just keeps getting more interesting! A penalty for the team led by Rin Itoshi, and it looks like he will be the one to shoot it. I'm sure he wants to score a hat trick, so that's his chance! And he isn't someone who loses his chances often.

He sure isn't. Because, the moment he grabbed the ball, he looked at your chair, eyes sparkling and almost pleading for you to watch him. And even though you wanted to leave him alone, something inside of you told you to wait. So, you decided to humor him for a bit.

"The ref blows the wistle. Itoshi looks at the ball, runs and... GOALLLL!!!! A hat trick from the one and only Rin Itoshi, ladies and gentleman!"

You rolled your eyes, cause you knew he wouldn't lose this, and decided to finally leave. Afterall, your gut was wrong. Nothing extraordinary happened. Or at least you thought nothing did.

- Love, wait!

No way. Rin freaking Itoshi was not jumping the fence separating the field from the stands just to get to you.

- This goal was for you, ya know?

This wasn't happening, right? He for sure wasn't hugging your waist so tight it was making you red (yes, of course your red face was only caused by the lack of air filling your lungs because of his grip. Of course you weren't feeling shy or anything)

- I didn't think dedicating you a goal was necessary because I thought you knew all of my goals were and are for you. Everything I do is for you. I love you. And since I love you, you don't deserve only a goal: you deserve a whole ass hat trick. This is for you, love.

You were crying. In front of thousands eyes and in front of the television. The whole world could see your ugly crying red face, but you strangely couldn't care less. Not when Rin was closing the distance between your faces, and specially not when the striker was kissing you with so much passion it made you wanna cry even more. And so, you laugh.

- Yeah, you're not sleeping on the couch again tonight.

~ A/N: not proof read, so sorry for any mistakes!!! Also, the friend got the job after the interview 👍

Masterlist

[thetriumphantpanda]

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [1] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: eeeek i have been furiously writing this the last few days and now that a few chapters are done i'm desperate to share. chapters will be out regularly, every couple of days or so. really hope you lot enjoy this one, i'm so grateful for all the recent love <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

next chapter | series masterlist

---

chapter one: to be alone with you

Jamie hadn’t found himself this nervous in quite a while. He’d been worried when he came back to Richmond of course - trying to prove to his team that he’d changed, that he was there for the right reasons, was a challenge. But he’d overcome it and now he had a family for the rest of his life. He thought very little could make him properly nervous anymore.

That was until he was sat in his childhood home, clutching his mum for dear life as they waited for the England team to be officially announced, refreshing the page over and over and over again on his phone. When it appeared at 2pm like clockwork and his eyes scanned the list of forwards only to find the name Jamie Tartt as clear as day, he was up in a moment, him and his mum screaming as they hugged each other and bounced around the room.

It had been the same at Richmond the next day, the congratulations coming thick and fast. He was overwhelmed and excited and eager to chat to every single person who’d listen to him about his dream coming true, but the nerves only kicked in when he was sat in a car with tinted windows a couple of weeks later, arriving at the training ground for his first ever training sessions, which would turn into his first ever England matches in just a few weeks time.

He didn’t know anyone here apart from a few Manchester City players who he had never said goodbye to, so he had no idea what they’d think of him. Sometimes, on a not-so-good day, his mind would wander to the idea of his old City mates laughing together about the shit he’d gotten up to the night before on Lust Conquers All. He hated thinking about it. He knew seeing their faces again would make him think about it more.

It had only been a few days but he missed Sam. Isaac and Colin and Beard and Ted and Keeley and Roy. Roy would have something so simultaneously horrible and inspiring to say to him right now. Richmond had become such a family, it was difficult to imagine playing football with anyone else.

“This is it, Mr Tartt,” the driver says, and that makes him feel even worse because Mr Tartt is his dad and he is not his dad. He hadn’t even realised they’d pulled into a car park.

“Just Jamie, yeah?” he says rather than running away as he gets out of the car. The man smiled, passed him the suitcase that had been sat in the boot of the car and drove off without a word. Now he was really alone.

He pulled his headphones from around his neck and placed them on his head, putting the playlist that the boys had curated for him back on. Ted had made everyone make a playlist for the boys on international duty over the summer, ‘somethin’ to remind you of home’, he’d said, and Jamie had honestly thought it was weird.

Now he was listening to ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ by Coldplay, added to the playlist by none other than Ted himself, and he had to admit - it was catchy. And it reminded him of home.

He looked around for the entrance and spotted one other young man who he recognised from Liverpool making his way in at an entrance to his left, so he made a beeline for it.

He was just reaching the doors when a woman leaned into his eyeline just enough to catch his attention, just ahead of the doors. He was quick to tear the headphones from his head to avoid looking rude - it was his worst fear.

“Sorry, did ya say somethin’?” he asked, trying to wear a bright smile even if he knew it would come off a little worn. You appeared unphased, wearing a far brighter grin that he knew he could ever manage. It was warm; you were warm. And incredibly pretty, even though he was less keen on how quickly he noticed that.

“I tried to tell them that this whole thing would be a bit awkward when you had headphones on,” you said, and as he stepped closer to have a conversation, it was easier to notice that you were actually quite flustered, the bright grin masking some embarrassment, “I’m part of the PR team, we’re just doing some content for the Instagram. Ask the players what music they’re listening to when they walk in, people go crazy for it. If you’re trying to become the summer’s heartthrob, I recommend saying Taylor Swift.”

“They’re supposed to tell the truth!” a man beside you piped up, all nasal, but Jamie barely spared him a glance. He was still a little caught up in how pretty you really were the closer he got. You were very fucking pretty now that he was a couple of metres away, leaning on the handle of his suitcase. He scolded himself for even thinking about flirting with you.

You, now looking at the man who’d spoken as if you’d just remembered he was there. You cleared your throat.

“No, I know, sorry. I was just fucking with you,” you confirmed, turning back to Jamie, then wincing, “Playing with you, I mean. I swear I’m a very professional person and I don’t swear that much. At work.”

Jamie only realised a few moments into the silence that you were waiting for him to speak. He could feel the heat in his cheeks he had been desperate to keep at bay.

“I swear all the time,” he said, already kicking himself for how stupid that sounded, “Work or no work. Swear as much as you fuckin’ like.”

He can see at least a bit of your embarrassment leaking away, so maybe it hadn’t been such a stupid thing to say after all.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, head tilted in a way Jamie can only describe as fuckin’ adorable. All too quickly, you seem to snap back into work mode, “Anyway, Brian’s right. The truth would be preferable, but if the truth is Taylor Swift, good for you! Any chance you’d be willing to walk backwards a bit, then pretend to do this again for the camera?”

You had the decency to look embarrassed, again, to be asking, but he was quite sure he’d do whatever you wanted him to with those wide, pleading eyes of yours. Just the little kindness you’d provided had washed away a lot of the deep-seated fear he’d been feeling just moments prior. He’d do what he could to repay the favour.

“Yeah, ‘course, whatever you need. Just walk up, pretend I hear your question with me headphones on and then…answer?”

“You’re a natural, Jamie Tartt,” you offer up, signalling who he assumed was Brian to raise his camera back up and get ready. He can’t help himself, just like with his driver, although this time he hopes he won’t get blanked.

“Just Jamie, eh? Less syllables, an’ that.”

You nod and almost look impressed, but he can’t imagine why.

“I’m almost sure Just Jamie is the same number of syllables as Jamie Tartt actually,” you argue, and he almost thinks you’re serious until you break out in that big, bright grin again and he feels like he’s 16, “Sorry. Fucking with you again. You can call me Just Y/N if you like.”

Y/N. Suits you, he thinks. Almost as much as that shade of blue does, all rich and Richmond-esque. He’s sure he’s got a team shirt somewhere that matches that exact colour.

“It’s nice meeting ya, Just Y/N,” he says, then realises how much he’s smiling and needs to do something about it, “And you, Brian. It’s great to be ‘ere, actually, just in general like.”

You nod, kind. Brian does a signal Jamie doesn’t understand, but he walks back a few paces anyway and puts his headphones back on. This time, when you step forward to stop him, he knows what you’ve asked without hearing it and takes his headphones off with a genuine smile at you.

“Oh, this?” he says, making sure he doesn’t smirk when you giggle behind the camera at his acting, “Whole Richmond gang made a playlist for us international lot. Ted, the gaffer, he put a lot of inspirational stuff, you know? Right now it’s Adventure of a Lifetime, the one by Coldplay.”

He’s not sure if he’s meant to say all that or just say the name of the song, and he’s ready to ask if he should start over before Brian signals that he’s cut the camera and you’re gaping at him.

“Okay, I know I put it in your head that you could lie, but you’re actually telling the truth, right?”

Brian scoffs. The prick within Jamie wishes Brian didn’t exist.

“That was worse than just saying Taylor Swift to impress girls,” he mutters, and you make a face that only Jamie sees. You don’t like Brian either and he already likes having something in common with you.

“I know you think that music went downhill after the 1960s, Brian, but no need to take it out on literally everyone who comes through here today. We’re meant to be a fun greeting crew! Why don’t you go get a snickers or something?”

Brian looked disgruntled throughout your speech until you suggested a snickers - clearly the way to the man’s heart. He was turning and speed-walking to the what Jamie assumed was the nearest vending machine in no time.

Now you were pretty and assertive. A deadly combination in Jamie’s eyes, particularly when paired with the fact that he was now pretty sure you were Brian’s boss. You were staring after Brian reproachfully, with a bit of that embarrassment back that Jamie was desperate to rid you of.

“Uh, it was true, by the way,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I can go again if you don’t want me to say that much, or-“

“No! No no, that was-“ you shake your head in a disbelief he doesn’t understand, “Brian’s been like this forever. Please don’t take it personally. I’ve been trying not to all morning.”

“It’s okay, really,” he tries to reassure you, “He works for you?”

He can see the smirk that you try to hide. It’s endearing.

“No, not technically. I like that you think so, though,” you smile, a real one again, just as he’d hoped, “I don’t normally work with Brian, he’s usually a match cameraman, not so much PR. I was just a woman down today.”

Jamie leans in, all conspiratorial, because he simply cannot help it.

“You pulled the small straw, huh?”

You giggle a little and he can feel himself puffing up with pride.

“Short straw, you mean?” you laugh, and some of that pride deflates in his chest. He could have sworn it was small, “Either way, yes. Very much so. I’ll be glad when Tiff’s back at it.”

“So when ya said that you were part of the PR team…you actually meant that y’ run it, right?”

“Guilty. What gave me away?”

“Just an air about ya,” Jamie says, because he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to say. You seem to like his answer, ducking your head a little in a way that’s driving Jamie to distraction, so he decides he’s definitely getting in over his head here. He’d already decided he was not going to flirt. It was a terrible idea, “Anyway, I’ve taken up enough of y’ time. Are y’ sure me bit was okay?”

You look startled at the mention of how much time he’s taken up, like you haven’t even thought about it. Soon enough, that ducked head is gone, replaced by the shoulders back, head up attitude that you’d greeted him with, the one that had told him you were in charge. Professional. He couldn’t decide which version he liked more.

“It was perfect, they’ll love it. Such a great story, even better that it’s true,” you confirm, then you add, like you’ve been holding it in, “Richmond ‘til we die, right?”

He actually feels his heart skip, just for a moment: a moment that tells him he’s absolutely fucked. You look like you’ve just told him the biggest secret of the century and he can’t help but believe you. 

“You-“ he’s too breathy, has to cough to correct himself, “You’re a Richmond fan? Or do ya have to say that to all of us?”

“I’m not supposed to say that to any of you,” you grin, “We’re supposed to keep club level allegiances to ourselves. We’re all one England team and all that. But, you know, star striker tells you the most adorable story about your hometown club, it’s pretty hard not to tell them. Think you can keep it to yourself?”

He’d definitely do whatever you asked of him right now. He wants to go and call Keeley right away, but he already knows what she’ll say. Bad idea: wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman. She’d be right. He shakes aside all thoughts of any harmless flirting with the exceedingly kind, exceedingly pretty Richmond fan. 

“Me lips are sealed,” he says, and he mimes it. He even throws the invisible key in your direction and watches you pretend to struggle to catch it, then mime swallowing it yourself. You finish with a rather convincing gulp then nod at him, like you've just entered a blood pact. He nods back, matching the serious energy.

“Enjoy England camp, Just Jamie,” you say, still with an air of fake seriousness the two of you are keeping up. He wants to shake your hand, continue to play pretend, but there’s the sound of a suitcase behind him and he knows you have work to do. He hopes you don’t like anyone's music choice more than his.

“See ya around, Just Y/N.”

You both nod again and it’s getting a bit stupid now but the two of you seem to want to keep it up. He tries ever so hard not to look back at you once he’s inside, and he almost manages it until he hears you talking to the next arrival. He turns to see you in full professional flow…

With two of his old City teammates.

It’s a bucket of cold water over his head. One pretty girl to greet him and he’s managed to use it as a distraction, a way of forgetting all his doubts, worries, fears. Seeing the two City guys brings them back full force, so he glances back at you once more, then turns to delve further into the training complex, hoping to find another face as friendly as yours.

There’s a voice in his head telling him that would be impossible, but he doesn’t want to listen to it right now.

---

if you got this far, i fucking love you <3 oneshot/drabble requests remain open for sexy little jamie tartt and his grumpy bestie roy!!

[girlwitheconverse]

STRAWBERRIES

╰┈➤ KEEGAN P. RUSS

Pairing: Keegan x singlemom!reader

Genre: fluff

Story type: one shot

Word count: 2k

TW: unexpected pregnancy

masterlist

You take a sip of your iced coffee, well deserved you must say, as you look around the coffee shop finally relaxing after a stressing day.

Then you remember that it’s still 10 in the morning and that your work break ends in ten minutes.

The life of a single mother of a toddler of four isn’t easy by any means but you wouldn’t change it for the world, you love Ellie, your daughter, too much to even think of a life without her. You remember all the emotion you felt the day you discovered you were pregnant: shock, fear, and excitement; in this precise order. Ellie’s father probably stopped at shock, because the day after you told him you were pregnant you received a break-up message and he ghosted you.

He disappeared. Completely. Even moved out of his apartment.

Your parents? Like the religious people they are…They kicked you out of the house because you had a kid outside marriage! How outrageous of you.

“Sorry? Is this seat free?” a deep voice makes you come back with your mind on earth, you look at the man and damn is he handsome. Black hair, blue eyes, athletic…Definitely your type. Before answering you look around: the place is almost empty and there are plenty of free tables. Is he…Does he like me? Is the first explanation that comes to your mind but you can’t be sure of it: maybe he just doesn’t like to sit alone.

You nod with a polite smile “Yes.”

The mysterious handsome man sits in front of you and places his cappuccino on the table. The air between you two is awkward so you decide to say something.

Because standing up and leaving seems mean.

But before you can say anything he speaks, “My name is Keegan.”

You blink a few times, then smile “I’m Y/n”

He’s definitely trying to flirt with me.

“I’m not usually one to flirt like this so forgive me if I'm straightforward but that's just how I am.” He says, leaving you shocked. “But…I think you’re beautiful”

You notice his ears getting red and smile at the cuteness. “Thank you, Keegan.”

When was the last time a man flirted with you? You can’t even remember. Every time you go out you have Ellie glued to the hip and that makes most men run away. You’d be lying if you said you didn't like the attention.

“Would you…like to go on a date with me?” He asks as he looks into your eyes, he is indeed very straightforward.

“I…” You try to buy yourself time by taking the last sip of your coffee, should I say yes? He’s totally my type…But what if he drops me as soon as I tell him I have a daughter? Maybe I should just see how the date goes and then decide how to procede. Yes. Definitely that. “Why not?” you say with a smile.

He smiles too and Oh God, his smile is so pretty you feel like you’ve already fallen in love. He hands you his phone to put your number in it, you do so and then stand up.

“I need to go back to work, it was a pleasure meeting you, Keegan…I’ll wait for your text then.” You smile at him and walk outside the cafe, already calling your best friend.

“Girl, I need you to babysit Ellie someday…I don’t know when but I’m going on a date with this super handsome guy and-” before you can finish talking your best friend screams.

“Going out with a guy? An handsome one? You? Damn I’ll babysit Ellie anytime! You go get that D while me and your daughter have a tea party while we talk shit about Cinderella, never liked that bitch anyway.” You laugh and can’t help but feel grateful for having her as best friend.

A week later

“Do I look cute?” You ask as you show your best friend your outfit “it’s a picnic date, I wanted to stay on theme”

“You really went for the slutty sundress, uh” she says with a smirk, your eyes shoot wide and you look down at Ellie, hoping she didn't hear the swearword.

“Mommy pretty!” She says as she hugs your legs, you pick her up and kiss her round cheek, chuckling as you need to clean your lipstick off her cheek.

“Mommy loves you.” you say before placing her on the ground, “Mommy is going out with a friend okay? I’ll see you later.”

The doorbell rings and you hold back a scream of excitement before picking your purse and walking outside, making sure that Keegan couldn't see Ellie from the door.

“H-hi.” You stutter as you see his outfit, a white t-shirt and brown pants, he’s holding a picnic basket, nothing spectacular but he looks so handsome. His bicep is so big.

He smiles and you notice him looking at you from head to toe, “Hi…Let’s go, I know you can’t wait to see my secret spot.” He says with a chuckle and you two start walking side by side. You and him have been texting each other for the past week and you discovered that he’s in the military, it now makes sense why he has such perfect physique, you also told him about your job as a banker.

As you walk, you chat about anything and everything, from your favorite books to the most embarrassing moments of your childhood. Keegan is easy to talk to, and his warm laughter puts you at ease. You can't help but wonder what he would be like with Ellie, but you quickly shake off the thought, reminding yourself that it's too early to think about that.

The spots he brings you to is a beautiful park with green grass and flowers, “it’s beautiful!” You say as you look around while he puts a blanket over the grass.

“Next time I’m taking you to the beach.” He says as you both sit down on the blanket.

“I love the beach!” You say excited, it’s been so long since you felt like this…Like a woman and not only a mother. “And I love sushi too…” You say as he takes the food out of the basket.

“Yeah, you already told me that a few times by message.” He says with a chuckle, remembering how you spent more than twenty messages talking about sushi.

“It was my worst craving when I was-” You stop before you can say too much, you still haven't told him about Ellie “When I was sick a few months ago, but the doctor said I couldn't eat any.”

He shakes his head and hands you a pair of chopsticks, “Oh, I almost forgot” he says as he picks from the basket a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

“The wine too?” You say shocked but with a smile on your face.

“Of course.” Keegan puts some wine in a glass and hands it to you, “to this date.”

“Hoping that this will be the first of many.” You add before you take a sip of the wine.

You two spend an hour eating and chatting before you lay down on the blanket with a sigh and a smile “I’m so full!”

“Even for these?” Keegan asks as he takes out of the basket strawberries that have been dipped in chocolate.

“I’m never full for these” you say with a chuckle.

“Say ah…” He says as he picks a strawberry and places it near your mouth, you blush but let him feed you the strawberry.

The sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry floods your mouth, followed by the warmth of Keegan's gaze. You blush profusely, your heart pounding in your chest as he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You sit up and pick a strawberry, “say ah…” you say as you feed him the strawberry, he laughs but lets you feed him. “ops, you’ve got chocolate here” you say before kissing his lips. He’s frozen at first and you think you’ve gone too far, but then he places his hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

The kiss is a heady, intoxicating rush that seems to consume every part of you, spiraling through you and leaving you breathless, your senses filled to the brim. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and for that moment, nothing else matters. As you reluctantly pull away, still caught in the lingering haze of the kiss, you can't help the bubbling laughter that escapes your lips. Keegan, ever so stoic, stands there looking utterly bemused, that stunned expression on his face worth a thousand words.

"That was... unexpected," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill running down your spine. There's a hint of a smile playing on his lips, a soft, almost shy admission that echoes your own feelings.

A month and a half later

You’re panicking as you text to Keegan, cancelling the date (one of the many you two had in the past month and half) last minute because your best friend just told you she has a fever and can’t babysit Ellie. Is also too late to call a a babysitter, so you don’t have any other choice if not to stay at home with Ellie…Ellie, whom you still haven't told anything to Keegan.

I’m getting deployed tomorrow after lunch, we won’t see each other for two month after that…You really can’t come?

I’m sorry but my stomach hurts so much, I just got my period :(

Then I’m coming at your place with some chocolate ice cream and chips

You really don’t have to

Too bad I'm already in my car.

You sigh you look at the text and sit on the couch, damn him and his perfect personality. Maybe it’s the universe telling you to stop hiding the truth from him, to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Mommy look!” Ellie says as she shows you the drawing she just made: some yellow on top of the paper and then blue on the bottom, “It’s sea!” With that you realize that you were holding the drawing upside down.

“Oh my! It’s so pretty! This definitely goes on the fridge” you say as you stand up to put her drawing on the fridge, next to your favorite drawing she made: the one with the two of you.

“Yay! Mommy likes it!” She says as she jumps up and down happily, you pick her up and kiss her cheek.

“Listen, Ellie, mommy’s friend is coming here and you need to be a good girl okay?”

“Auntie?” she immediately thinks of your best friend.

“No, not Auntie, another friend.” As soon as you say those words the doorbell rings.

You place Ellie down and walk towards the door, when you see Keegan standing outside with his hands full of snacks your heart breaks because of all the lies you told him but now is the moment of the truth. Will he run away? Will he get mad? You couldn't really blame him if he did so, not after all the lies.

You smile, “Thank you, really but…I need to tell you something…”

“What’s wrong?” He asks worried, but before you can speak a little voice behind you speaks and a little head pokes out the door.

“Mommy friend came?” Ellie asks as she looks up at Keegan with her big eyes. The man looks at you confused and you give him an awkward smile.

“I think it’s better if you come in.” You say as you let him in, Keegan enters and places the snack on the coffe table in front of the couch in the living room.

You place your hands on Ellie’s shoulder and take a deep breath, “Keegan, this is Ellie…My daughter”

To say that he’s shocked is an understatement, he stutters for the first time since you have started dating him, “w-what?”

“I shouldn’t have hidden this from you and i’m so sorry for my stupid actions I was just…afraid I guess at the thought of losing you.” You admit and Ellie looks up at you with a confused expression, you don’t want her to think that you don’t love her.

“You thought I’d leave you because you have a daughter?” He says even more shocked than before.

“That’s what most men do when I tell them.”

“I am not the type to do something like that, I love you and the fact that you have a daughter? Just makes me love you more” your heart flutters as he drops the l-word and your cheek flush red.

“You love me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Damn if I do!”

“I love you too…And I was so scared of losing you, I’m so sorry…” You say with a smile, he smiles back and then crunches down to Ellie’s height, smiling at her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Keegan, mommy’s…friend” Keegan says with a smile as he holds out his hand towards Ellie.

“Hi I’m Ellie” Your daughter says as she puts her small hands in his, shaking it clumsily.

It was such a sweet moment and you were almost tearing up when, “Are you my daddy?” Ellie suddenly says. You choke on your own saliva and Keegan laughs, shaking his head.

“No…Not yet at least” Keegan says as he smiles up at you.

“Watch Mulan with me?” Ellie changes subject immediately, very much toddler like, and pulls Keegan towards the couch. You can’t help but laugh as you look at the two of them playing together, feeling like you just found the missing piece of your puzzle, which is now perfect.

Ugh, this probably sucks and I’m sorry but I recently got back to writing and I’m trying to stay consistent to it :(

If you liked the story don’t forget to like, reblog and maybe even leave a comment :)

And remember, my inbox is always open for requests! even anonymous ones (emoji anon too!)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can Jay read me to sleep pls? Family holidays mean I need comfort

Same. This fucking blows. Here's not that, but some Jason anyway.

"Stephanie," Dick said taking a head count of the assembled ladies in the party, "where is Y/N? We seem to be missing one particularly charming beauty-"

"Is she not-" Stephanie looked around the crush and bit her lip, "Oh dear."

Dick traded looks with Tim as Cass glanced at Jason who's Jaw had tensed as he scanned the crowd. "What happened?"

"She must have stepped away for a moment. She said she wasn't feeling well and Miss Vivian and Mr. Graham- you know how very proud they are of their library-"

Jason felt his heart kick up a notch. The Library. Right next to the room where a bunch of lecherous old fools and idiotic young dandies would be drowning their common sense and their manners at the gaming tables with appalling amounts of alcohol. And you were by yourself?

That would never do. Before he could think, or even grab one of his sisters to drag with him, he's gone. Not entirely sure how or why he feels like you need to be protected but. Hell if he's going to let some old codger ruin you and then make you out to be a scheming little harlot.

He wound his way up the stairs and through the hall, forcing himself not to run. But the relief that washed over him when he realized you were still alone- it was short-lived.

"Y/N?" he called softly. The room was dim but for a the moon and the streetlamp's light coming through the window. "Are you-"

"I'm quite alright, I just- I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I'll rejoin the party in a moment."

Jason edged closer the the sound of your voice, leaving the door ajar and took a deep breath. You didn't sound alright. You sounded desperately unhappy. And it needled. "Jason," he corrected, gently.

"I-I don't think-"

"I think," he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light as he worked toward your voice, "That my sisters will never stop scolding me if I don't give you permission to just call me Jason." You'd tucked yourself in a dark little corner, obviously intending to have a little cry, a sulk, or maybe just... a moment's peace but. He couldn't feel bad about interrupting you.

Not when you looked so much like a painting. Three weeks since he'd seen you. And all he could think about was how lovely you would look with a garnet necklace. And some less gentlemanly part of his brain added 'and nothing else'. Making him grateful for the darkness in the room so you couldn't see him blush.

"If you're sure-"

"Quite sure," he said, kneeling in front of your chair and offering a fresh handkerchief. "Don't cry, wildflower," he said, "Whatever it is-"

"It seems like every time we talk all I do is cry or faint," you murmur.

"Sometimes you make very funny jokes," he said. "Did someone ruin your slippers? Do I need to send Stephanie after them?"

"No I-" You break off and shake your head, "It's not serious. I shouldn't trouble you with it I just. I guess I'm being foolish-"

Before he could stop himself Jason gripped your free hand and bent his head to kiss it, "If you were being foolish you'd be crying in front of everyone and causing a scene," he said. He didn't add that you were foolish to be alone. Not now. Not when he was so close and the room was so quiet you hardly needed to do more than whisper. "Tell me?"

"I-it's going to sound so terrible."

"I promise it won't." Last night he'd tracked a murder suspect. And the night before he'd had to question a grieving widow.

"I- my Aunt and Uncle have decided that I'm to pay them back for my room and board. Which means that at the end of this Season I'll have no money and I just- what else is there?"

And when you start to cry in earnest, hiding your face in your hands, trying to make yourself smaller for comfort, Jason feels his heart twist. "Don't cry," he pleaded. "What else is there? Wildflower-" He stopped and pulled your hands from your face, tilting your chin up carefully and as he wiped your face, he couldn;t help it.

The air was thick. So heavy and full of the scent of your perfume that if he didn't do something- anything- Before he knew it his lips were claiming yours.

Not as tenderly as he wanted. Or as chastely. But when you squeak in surprise and then... melt. He can't stop. He just can't. You taste exactly as good as you smell. And your lips- like ripe, sweet fruit. All he can do is keep going.

And it's not untl he hears a crash that anything else registers at all.

[lowpolyanimals]

How are you doing?

hey! I am doing much better these days, PMDD is kicking my butt every month still but I am doing pretty well considering. I had to reduce my hours in work to help reclaim some of my life that PMDD takes but it helps a lot so I am very grateful I am able to do that. I got married last year and now am living with my spouse so that has been a dream come true and is such a big help too! I still have way too many hobbies and counting (thanks neopets) for my time available but I am slowly rotating them all and making the most out of my time finally!

I am really sorry that I was away for so long. At the time that I left, I was just so overwhelmed due to my PMDD getting worse and becoming unbearable, working whilst ill, trying to catch up on work / life missed due to ill health etc. and it all got a bit too much for me. Even the thought of coming back to the blog after a couple weeks was too overwhelming (because of how I was running the blog at the time). Later on I had also deleted Tumblr from my phone in an attempt to reduce screen time but it meant that I stopped using it completely and I regret that it largely contributed to me staying away for so long.

I want to give this blog a big old reboot and get it up and running again but I realised that I need to change the way that I run the blog. Previously I had this HUGE backlog of submissions that caused me to have to spend hours and hours one day of my weekend to get through so many submissions. I wanted to just power through until eventually I’d get to the point where I’d just be able to handle submissions as soon as they come in then and there but there was just too many and it took too much of a toll and I hit breaking point. :(

So I’ve decided to just run the blog now how I've always wanted to - by dealing with submissions as and when they come in and opening/closing submissions to keep it to a manageable level (I'm sure this is how other blogs do it, I think I am just dumb lol). I will also post them immediately as and when they come in and only use the queue if I’m going to be posting several posts in a row to avoid spamming. It just means posting will be a bit more sporadic sometimes that’s all. However, in order for me to do this, I am going to have to omit the backlog (for now). I can always go back to the backlog and shave some off if I can handle it (or please feel free to resubmit anything I've not already posted).

I’ll make a new pinned post in a couple of days explicitly explaining the new changes to how the blog will be run behind the scenes, although honestly it’s not going to affect much on you guys side of things, you will still see the same content and submit the same way. I just want to add a rule to say please do not submit more than one post a day and that I’ll open/close submissions to keep things manageable. Submissions will stay off until that post comes out so just bear with me (🐻) a little longer!

Just want to say before I end this really long post (they always get so out of hand lol) that I MISSED YOU GUYS TOO and I LOVE YOU ALL and your kind messages made me so very motivated to get this going again, thank you! 🥺❤️ I can’t wait to bring you more of these little critters we love so much once again :)

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "PC has been a priority for us! It’s heartening to see so many PC champions on the team working hard to make this a great experience" [source]

Corinne: "Enjoy shield-bashing and drop-kicking hurlocks off the ramparts! Don’t forget to toss that shield around too" [source]

User: "I love that they chose a no mage party to showcase. 😂 The two companions thing had me a little worried that I’d have to take a warrior and a mage into battle with my Rook rogue all the time." / Corinne: "We know players get attached to certain characters, so while there are benefits to having one of each class, it’s completely viable and intended that you can find synergies with a variety of party comps" [source]

Each Background has a specific last name, very much inspired by the approach in Origins [source]

Corinne: "We’ve put a lot of effort into ensuring our gameplay and customized difficulty options allow players to find something comfortable and engaging for themselves. I’m sure you’ll do great! It was one of the biggest challenges in designing the combat system, as we know the Dragon Age player-base has a wide range of motivations and expectations." [source]

Corinne mentioned to a user who said that they prefer a warrior/mage experience but without all the slash and spin of rogue attacks that they might enjoy the Warrior Reaper spec [source]

Hrungr noticed that it looks like you can hide your armor as well as your helmet [source]

Mary: "True fact: For the longest time, in the DA writers' pit, we had "It has been __ (usually 0) days since someone mentioned cannibalism" on the whiteboard." [source]

Gabe, posting the release date reveal trailer: "My friends, I have made an effort to avoid shilling too much here so that when I do, it'll be worth it. I love this game and the team that brought it to life so much." [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

The ray-tracing NVIDIA video from earlier this week that showed mage combat was showing early-on mage combat [source]

Blair: "the achievement names include some personal career highlights for me." [source]

Trick on the podcast: "The [DA:TV game] writers were pretty tapped with other stuff at the time, sadly, but I think it came together great." [source]

Though neither option is wrong or evil, making Cole more human in DA:I leaves him sadder [source]

John: "honestly it’s a very strange feeling to go from a half decade of ‘dragon age? maaaaybe we’re making a new one? tee hee’ to actually being able to talk about it" [source]

John: "been busy all day so I just got to read some of the reactions to the DATV combat showcase. I am incredibly proud of this team and I’m thrilled to see people excited about it. even after spending every day with it for the last 5 years I still love playing it." [source]

John: "being creative director means i work with pretty much every single department and team on the project. everyone brings creativity and innovation to their roles and the project would be nothing without them (and it)" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Lunchbox E.S x FEM! reader

Overture-Everyday the guys offer you lunch, but you can't quite take them up on the offer.

CWs-Insecurity around eating and food, quasi-ED behaviors, mentions of possession, aliens, monsters. All of the ghostbusters are gossipy bitches, but Egon's still a sweetie and so is Ray.

A/N-Don't know how relatable this will be, but I like it and am moderately proud of it. Every Monday I'm doing a light angst, and if you want to read the other things I did/am doing this month you could do that here:  October Writing Master List

“Do you want anything for lunch? I think we’re ordering chinese–” They offered almost every day, and you always declined. You’d worked in the ghostbusters office for almost a month now, as the receptionist on days Janine was off or preferred to work at night. 

“No thank you, I’m ok.”

“Alright, let us know if you change your mind, we always order too much anyway.” Ray called out to you as they started to move upstairs to relax until their next call. 

“Ok, thanks guys. You should have another hour until the next appointment.” 

You spent another 20 minutes typing on the computer before the food came, and after one last offer to eat with them, the guys disappeared upstairs.

********

You tried not to eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t often that they were upstairs while you were still working, when they aren’t on calls they’re usually in the lab. But when they were upstairs, you could hear them pretty clearly. 

“You know I’ve never seen her eat?”  Peter brought up, and you couldn’t ignore that.

“Yeah me neither.” Ray spoke up, but with a little more concern than Peter had.

“Do you think she’s an alien or something?” Honestly you weren’t sure if you should be offended. Of all things that were slightly odd about you, Winston thinking you were an alien because of your eating habits was a little shocking. 

“Maybe she’s possessed.” Peter laughing at you was not a rare occurrence, but that stung a little, since he was clearly joking. 

“She hasn’t shown any traits of possession since she started here.” Egon’s defense of you was–flattering, even if Peter was joking. Maybe it was just the bottom of the barrel, flattery-wise. But between the fact that the conversation had drifted to you being possessed, and the fact that you’d had a major league crush on Egon since you started, you would take what you could get.  

“I think she’s just not hungry.” Ray always was such a sweetie.

A loud buzzer rang out, which meant it was time to chart Egon’s fungi growth. You had to when they were out, but since Egon was here he was doing it himself. Unfortunately, that did not stop the other guys’ conversation.  

“She’s worked here for 3 weeks, I think we’re past the point of ‘not hungry’. Let’s talk monsters in human form.” Winston said, and you couldn’t say for sure if he was joking, but you were leaning towards no. 

“You could hear that?” You assumed it was a question, but the tone he used almost made it sound like a statement; one he was very concerned by. 

“Yeah. The giant hole in the ceiling does kind of lend itself to good acoustics. But it’s cool, no worries.” You really tried to brush it off, forcing a little bit of laughter out. Getting well into the uncanny valley of the unbothered, and Egon was not at all buying it. 

“No. I'm sorry about that, I’ll go get them to stop.” He stood straighter, grateful for the new next step in making you feel better. But that would only draw more attention, and make it worse. 

“Egon it’s ok, really. Go check on your spores, I heard the buzzer go off a second ago.” He gave one short nod, and then turned to go to his lab, still looking like a kicked puppy. He felt so guilty that not only would the guys say that, but that you could hear the whole thing. Equally matched with his guilt, was a mild concern for you. He came back about 15 minutes later, and thankfully the conversation had drifted away from you. 

“So should we be worried about your eating habits?” It was the first thing he said to you when he came back, marked by concern and said with the sincere tone with which he said anything. 

“I don’t think so. Why?” 

“You work approximately 12 hour shifts, yet none of us have seen you eat.”

“I don’t like to eat where I work, it’s no big deal.” The exterior you were really trying to keep up was slowly cracking under his sincere concern. He just had to be so damn nice.

“We could probably schedule in a short break for you, if you have too much work to stop.” He was coming up with a solid solution to a problem you didn’t have. But it was nevertheless appreciated. 

“No, it’s ok. It’s not that– I just don’t really like to eat in front of or like– around other people.”

“Why?” You should have known an ambiguous answer wouldn’t make this end any faster, if anything now he was intrigued.

“Just makes me nervous, I guess.”

“Do we make you uncomfortable?” He shuffled around a little, burying his hands in his pockets as he tried to maintain eye contact. The idea of that made him clearly upset, and you were quick to correct him. 

“No! It’s nothing like that, I just–I don’t know, it’s weird. But would you mind–not telling the other guys about this?”You really just wanted this conversation to end, fade into the obscurity of your memory, hopefully soon forgotten. 

“Are you sure?” He looked down his glasses at you, putting ever so slight pressure on you to make sure he got an honest answer. 

“Yes. It’ll be our little secret?” 

“Alright. But I would like to talk about this further.” You were saved by the bell as the phone on your desk started ringing. You leaned over to the phone before looking back to him. 

“Go eat your lunch, I have to take this.” 

While he may have agreed to leave the subject alone, not wanting to draw further attention to your discomfort, he had his own way of trying to help. He’d buy extra snacks and put some in your bag, even bringing sodas to put in your desk drawers so you’d get sugar throughout the day. You appreciated his extra care. So many people characterized him as distant, and far too logical, but he really did care for everyone in his life.

[asha-mage]

I've been going through rough stuff the last few days, and one of the things I've been doing to hold it together has been going on Youtube and re watching this scene from The Good Place, sometimes about ten times in a row-

(The Good Place, Season 3 Episode 12: Pandemonium)

I am confidant now, having watched it several hundred times at least, that it is easily the best written, preformed, and directed scene in TV I've ever seen, but I want to especially focus on this one exchange, this one moment that still kicks my ass every time:

Eleanor: "There has to be meaning to existence, otherwise the universe is just made of pain, and I don't like the thought of that, so tell me the answer!"

Janet: "I know how you feel."

This moment? This exchange? Is a perfect clean summation of the argument of The Good Place. What is the point to existence? Why do we suffer and go through all this torment and pain and grief? In a world that seems so cold and indifferent and cruel and full of arbitrary random harm why are we trapped here? What is the reason for it all? The answer?

I know how you feel.

That's the answer. The point is that we're not alone. Our grief and our pain give us the ability to empathize with others who are going through the same. We lean on each other, and we help each other get through the day, and we struggle to maybe make the world a better place then it was yesterday. It isn't fair. It is cruel and infuriating and wretched. And we have the choice of doing nothing about that, or doing something. We keep going, keep trying because we can recognize our selves in others through our shared burdens, and hopefully make them less- if not for us, then for those that come after. We try because of those five simple words: I know how you feel.

I....I lost someone this week. Someone I loved very dearly. And then someone I have never met, never spoken too before in my life reached out with that same message. I know how you feel. Because they did- they had been in this exact circumstance before. And that...that made it a little easier to get up today, and put one foot in front of the other, and make coffee and get dressed, and go about my day.

It still hurts. But I'm not alone in that hurt, and I know I can survive it because someone else did too. Someone told me, I know how you feel, and it didn't change the grief or the anger or the guilt or pain. But it made me a little less alone in the universe. And I am very grateful to that stranger as a result.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 4,218

Notes: I don't feel like the summary completely matches this story anymore. I'm also not really satisfied with this chapter, but I'm too tired to really get into a whole bunch of drafts and edits, I've just really been feeling poorly lately. The archive is for writing progress anyways, it's fine. I'll probably rewrite this whole chapter if I ever get to where I'd be comfortable posting finished versions to Ao3. I'm also just not fond of my writing style somehow. It feels too formal, doesn't flow enough. Problem is that I really talk like that lmao. Idk, I'll figure it out.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

Bangchan clambered into the van behind Felix, Minho and Jisung loading into the row in front of them. It always felt a bit weird to not spend some time swapping seatmates around based on who was clinging to who at the moment, but on days like today it was easier to just board the vehicles as quick as possible.

He's ended up with a relatively quite combination of their cluster today, and Chan was grateful for it as he settled into his seat with a pained grimace.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but a persistent on-and-off pain had been roaming around his back for the last twenty minutes as they’d said goodbye to Stays and prepared to leave the venue. He’d be more worried about it, except the sharp, needle-like, pains would settle into a gentler ache before kicking back up again.

As it was, Chan was pretty sure he’d pinched a nerve or strained something and would simply rest when he got back to the hotel. Maybe call up the PT. For now, as three of his soulmates settled in around him, Chan was content to leave it be.

Well, almost. Another twinge of pain makes him wince as he twists to buckle in, and Chan decides that maybe it’d be a good idea to know what he was working with. For comfort’s sake, if nothing else.

“Felix,” He prods the blond next to him, “Can you look at my back for me? I think I pinched something.” He motions toward his lower back, where the majority of the pain had been accumulating.

Felix immediately nods his acceptance, their group’s resident massage expert always willing to lend a hand. Especially if it let him lay hands on his very well built soulmates.

Chan scooches forward and rotates around, balancing with his hand on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He helps Felix shimmy his shirt upwards, struggling with it where it gets caught in the seat-belt.

Chan ends up stuck struggling on his own as Felix chooses that moment to direct his eyes and hands to the afflicted area.

“There’s your first issue,” Felix tuts, “You’ve left your concealment tape on. You’ll give yourself a rash one of these days, hyung.”

Chan gives a sheepish smile from where he’s managed to trap himself in a cloth prison. His head is free, and the shirt his appropriately bunched up over his shoulders and around his neck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free his hands, so he’s got a bit of a t-Rex thing going on right now. It’s fine.

“I forget it’s there,” he confesses with a whine, “I can’t see my own back, y’know?”

Felix rolls his eyes at their oh-so-glorious leader, carefully peeling the thin material away from Chan’s skin as he scolds, “You still need to take it off. We sweat way too much to not at least change it after a performance.”

He’s bunching up the extra-strength tape to maybe toss at Jisung in the front seat (maybe Minho, if he’s feeling very brave), when he spots something off.

More than half a decade into having found each other, the members of Stray Kids were intimately familiar with each other’s soulmarks. Every drop of color, every line, every curve.

So when Felix looks at the freshly uncovered canvas on Chan’s back, familiar trees, bushes, and rocks painting a forested landscape that describes their impact on their eldest, something new immediately catches his eye.

There, on the fallen log that bridged two banks of a crystal-clear creek, was a moss blanket and a cluster little shelf mushrooms. They added life to the previously defunct object, a little bit of color that couldn’t have been said to be missing until it wasn’t.

The closer Felix looked, the more he saw. A mushroom here, a mossy patch there. Little signs of life and decay that he could have sworn weren’t there the last time he looked.

He looks to Jisung, who’s blissfully unaware.

As the first of their cluster to paint Chan’s skin with color, he was the most familiar with their leader’s mark. Jisung had been too young for his own mark to have appeared when he’d met Chan, but that didn’t stop him from influencing their eldest’s. They all knew he’d spent a lot of time studying Chan’s mark (and Changbin’s when it had appeared, already partially colored in) while waiting for his own.

If there was anyone who’d be more than certain of a change in their soulmarks, it’d be Jisung.

Felix swiftly removes his hands from Chan’s back, earning him a little noise of confusion from the prone man, and reaches over to poke Jisung harshly in the side.

Jisung immediately flinches away from the offending fingers with a loud yelp, attracting the attention of Minho, who’d been peacefully scrolling on his phone. Jisung swiftly fixes Felix with an offended glare, ready to retaliate, but is cut off before he can even try.

“Look at Chan’s mark for me.” Felix demands.

“My mark?” Chan echoes, baffled and alarmed. “What’s wrong with my mark?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Felix assures, “I just need to check I’m not seeing things.”

A series of furtive, silent, and, on Felix’s part, urgent, gestures are exchanged before Jisung finally relents and leans around the back of his seat, grabbing Minho’s for balance as the van departs.

Jisung lazily traces his eyes over Chan’s soulmark. All of Stray Kids had huge marks, but Jisung privately thought that Chan had them all beat. His mark spanned his entire back, not an inch untouched by the image. From shoulder to hip was an oil painting of a mark, filled in from what used to be a desolate landscape to what was now a thriving forest.

Jisung used to think it was so overwhelming to be part of such a mark. To be loved so much, and so deeply. It was evident in every brushstroke of the image on Chan’s skin, and in every action of the man himself.

These days, he found great comfort in it.

He’d gotten so lost in thought as he studied his soulmate’s mark that Jisung had almost missed what had caught Felix’s attention in the first place. But sure enough, his eyes catch on the same log that Felix’s had.

“Oh.” He whispers to himself. “Oh.” He says again, as Minho shoves his head under Jisung’s arm to look himself.

“No, yeah, that’s different.” He confirms, Minho nodding against him, having already spotted it for himself. The two of them find their eyes glued to tiny mushrooms, only sparing a moment to glance at each other before returning their gaze to Chan’s skin, each with their own racing thoughts.

“I thought so.” Felix nods to himself.

“What?” Chan questions, becoming more alarmed by the second, “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s wrong with my mark?”

Felix lays his palms flat on Chan’s back and begins to rub gentle, soothing, circles. Any changes to a soulmark were stressful at the best of times, and they all knew how much Chan treasured his.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Felix soothes, letting the warmth of Chan’s mark resonating with his touch calm them both as he searches for gentle words.

“It’s just,” He begins hesitantly, “Well, the good news is that you haven’t pinched or strained anything.”

“Good news?” Chan echoes, “Is there bad news?” He lets a nervous giggle fall from his lips even as he relaxes into Felix’s hands.

“Not necessarily?” Felix says uncertainly, “It’s just. Well. Your mark has changed.” He pauses a second and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture and then passing it around so Chan can see. “Something’s been added.”

Felix lets the implication of his words sit untouched in the air as the three of them wait for Chan to process what this means.

Ironically, Chan was the least familiar with his own mark out of all of them. His and Minho’s both resided on their backs so it stood to reason that the two of them didn’t see their marks very often. So it was no surprise that it took Chan several, very long, moments to spot the tiny changes.

When he does, Chan pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. The pain is already fading out to an ache now that it’s been acknowledged and Chan isn’t sure how he feels about the extra confirmation.

He carefully pulls his shirt back down, breaking his soulmate’s line of sight like they hadn’t already burned the image onto their retinas. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Felix’s phone.

“I...” He trails off, “I have another soulmate?” His voice is filled with wonder as he marvels at the picture of his mark. He looks up at the rest of his soulmates currently in the van with awe. “We have another soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, voice choked with emotion, “Yeah it looks like it.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Chan to fully turn around before he’s pulling their leader into a bone-crushing hug, giddy, disbelieving, laughter spilling out of him even as tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Felix celebrates quietly as Chan wiggles to return his hug just as tightly. “Oh my god.” The other man agrees.

Even as his soulmates celebrate around him, each feeling their own storm of emotions, Chan can’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

Stray Kids was a uniquely large soul cluster. From the beginning, when it had become evident that Hannie wasn’t his only soulmate, it had caused issues. Then came Bin, and the rest had followed like dominos. Each time their circle expanded he’d thought “this has to be it, right?” and each time there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, “No, not yet.”

The issue was that that feeling, that little voice saying ”not yet”, the knowledge that they weren’t complete, had never gone away.

By the time they had all met, none of them could spot anything obviously missing from their marks. All of them were completely colored, lines drawn, images complete. And yet, every one of them felt that hollowness of an incomplete bond.

They’d talked about it a lot. Individually, as a group, in pairs and in quartets and seemingly endless combinations. It was hard, as the years went by, to ignore that nagging feeling.

Chan would always remember Jeongin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, crying and apologizing for not being enough. Could never forget taking Jisung to a rage room so they could both break down their feelings or drinking with Changbin and wondering if it was wrong for them to be so greedy as to want more when they already had so much.

After so many years, they’d begun to wonder if they were just broken. If they didn’t have another soulmate out there after all, and it was all in their heads.

It had been hard. It was hard.

And now that little blank space in his soul was painted with someone else’s colors and Chan felt whole in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience.

It kind of made him want to cry.

He wanted to cry even more when Felix innocently asks, “So what were they like?” An unmatched eagerness in his eyes as Chan pulled away.

That one guileless question triggers a realization in Chan that has his groaning in despair and slumping forward back onto Felix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Chan mumbles into the shoulder of the slighter man.

“What was that?” Jisung questions from where he and Minho were still turned toward him, obviously as curious as Felix.

“I said I don’t know!” Chan wails, wilting further into Felix’s frame.

“How do you not know?” Minho questions incredulously. Felix gasps as he connects dots he’d been too excited to before.

“I didn’t even know my mark had changed before now,” Chan explains miserably, “I don’t even know exactly when the pain started.”

Jisung sucks in a hiss of air, sympathy splashed across his face. “Oh geeze,” he breathes out, “How many people have we met today alone?”

“Ok, well,” Felix interjects, “Not ideal, but we’ll figure it out!”

Minho turns his incredulous stare onto the optimistic man.

"How are we going to figure it out?" He demands, "Because there were tens of thousands of people in that stadium and I know every single one of us shook dozens of hands tonight."

Felix wilts a little bit even as Jisung comes to his defense, "We kind of have to figure it out, hyung," he points out, "And soon. We're back to Seoul soon."

"Okay but how?" Minho challenges, "And don't give me any 'with the power of love and fate' crap."

"We might have to rely on fate." Chan shrugs, dejected. "It's not like I have a description or anything to give out."

"It'll be okay Channie hyung," Felix pats Chan's back lightly from where they're still entangled together, "It'll have to be."

The van descends into silence as the four of them contemplate their new situation. After a few minutes Chan leverages himself up and out of Felix's embrace to frown aimlessly at his knees.

"Well," Felix breaks the silence, "We don’t have any more shows after this, and we have some days of break time, right?”

“Right,” Chan confirms, “We have tomorrow off and then we’re returning to Seoul to start working on the next album.”

“But officially,” Felix hedges, “We have, like, an entire week off, don’t we?”

“Not quite, but sure,” Chan hesitantly agrees.

“Well, we know they were in town for the concert at least,” Felix continues, “So as long as they didn’t leave the city immediately after, I mean, there's seven more first contacts to go, right?”

“Are you saying we should spend our break wandering around trying for first contacts?” Jisung asks, “Because I’m all for searching for them, but I don’t know that aimless wandering is gonna help.”

Chan holds up his hands to halt that conversation before it could devolve into a bigger debate.

“Let’s shelve that for now, and meet up with the others at the hotel,” He suggests, “We should discuss this as a group anyways.”

He receives a variety of agreements and the four of them settle in for the short remaining drive back to their hotel. He absently hands Felix’s phone back to him and retrieves his own from his pocket to ask the others to meet them in his room.

Chan looks out the window, post-concert fatigue all but a memory. As the buildings pass by, he can’t help but hope that their mystery soulmate was looking for them too.

You reaffirm your decision to never ever meet your soulmates as Taylor loads you into the car, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder the whole way.

It was one thing when your stupidly large soul cluster was just an idea. Knowledge you held, but unactionable in any way.

It was another when you had evidence, in the form of little white flowers burning with warmth on your skin, that they were real, physical, people.

Even worse when you knew that they were a group of very famous musicians.

You hadn’t actually been sick when you’d texted Taylor, who’d thankfully managed to get all of the autographs he’d wanted before he’d checked his phone to try to find you, but you were getting there. Anxiety had nausea creeping up your throat like molasses.

You’re beyond grateful when your roommate doesn’t question your sudden illness, the both of you well aware that you were hale and hearty when you’d left the house.

Taylor just buckles you in like you’re something precious and fragile and takes the wheel.

The two of you drive in silence the entire way home. It’s not awkward, but you can’t deny the weight of something heavy in the air. The buzz of the concert still lingered between the two of you, and it only made the silence stifling and itchy.

When you pull into your apartment complex neither of you speak for a long moment.

“Sorry for ruining the day.” You murmur to the air in front of you. Taylor just reaches over to pat your thigh and unclip your seatbelt.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” He assures, “Don’t sweat it.” He hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I’m not gonna push,” Taylor begins gently, “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever happened, I’m not gonna judge. I just wanna be here for you.”

“What makes you think something happened?” You mutter mulishly. Taylor just gives you a look that has you sinking into your seat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” You admit. He bumps your shoulder with his and climbs out of the car.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you feel something.” He tells you as he goes. The two of you walk up to the apartment in silence, contemplative this time.

You think about telling him as the two of you separate to wash the concert off of yourselves. You think about it as you take turns using the bathroom and as you make dinner side by side. You think about it as you settle in front of the couch at his feet as his hands automatically pull your head to his knees, his fingers digging into your hair just how you like.

You want to tell him, you decide. You do. It's just that. Well...

Your sister was right, in a way. You’d known Taylor for over a year now, but the two of you didn’t really know much about each other. You really were just roommates.

You didn’t know what his favorite color was. You didn’t know the names of his parents, or if he had any siblings. You barely knew what he did for a living. He’d only ended up your roommate by virtue of you responding to his “roommate wanted” ad with full willingness to be murdered on the spot.

At the same time, the two of you knew everything about each other. You knew how he took his coffee in the morning, that he preferred his eggs dry and over-seasoned. You knew the bands he liked and the games he played. You knew his hobbies better than you knew your own sometimes, and more about his friend’s drama that you ever wanted to.

You know the important things, you think.

You know that every word you tell him in confidence will be clutched tightly all the way to the grave.

“I met my soulmate today.” You confess, your cheek pressed to his knee, half-asleep.

The words somehow feel like they were snatched from the darkest depths of your soul as they spill from your lips. You make no move to take them back.

Taylor’s hand, to his credit, only pauses for a moment. Then he treats your hushed admission like any other comment made while you nod off to dramas the both of you know you only watch for him, resuming the soothing movement of his hand and humming lightly to acknowledge you.

You think it’s that casual treatment that lets you find the courage to continue.

“Well, one of them anyway.” You mumble. Taylor hums his interest, but doesn't take his eyes off of the screen and doesn’t stop petting your hair.

“I don’t want to meet them. There’s so many of them and only one of me, y'know? I don’t even know how to love myself, how am I supposed to love eight other people?” Taylor says nothing still, his eyes glued to an episode of a drama you know the two of you have already finished three times over.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared they’ll fuck me up.” Your voice cracks as you breathe life into one of your deepest fears. You realize as you say it that you’ve never voiced these thoughts aloud before, even to yourself.

Tears prick at the back of your eyes when you admit, “I’m not ready for them. I don’t think I can be.”

Taylor finally gives in to the seriousness of the conversation and hauls you bodily up onto the couch. You go willingly, but with rag-doll limpness. He rearranges you to his liking and you find yourself in Gossip Position, sitting criss-cross facing him.

“First of all,” He starts in, his usual levity giving way to a seriousness you rarely see from him, “Don’t be mean to my best friend. I’ll hit you.” You ignore his threat in favor of the warm feeling in chest at hearing him call you his best friend.

Take THAT Ma! No friends your glorious behind.

“Secondly, you are literally the most loving person I have ever met in my life. You would fit the entire world in there if you could,” He pokes your chest, right above your heart, for emphasis, “So I’m not that surprised you have more than one soulmate.”

“I have eight though,” You argue, “Isn’t that weird?”

Taylor just shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But weird is basically your brand, so...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.

You shove him a bit in retaliation, but he just grabs your wrists to still you and continues speaking before you can argue.

“I don’t think eight soulmates is enough for you, honestly,” He muses, “I mean it when I say you’re the most loving person I know. I think you’d even try to take care of Danny if he needed you to.” The mention of Taylor’s very creepy second cousin sends a shiver down both of your spines.

The worst part is that you can’t even argue with him.

“But you know, even with eight soulmates, you don’t have to be with them.” Taylor suddenly switches tracks to reassure you, “They’re your soulmates sure, but you’re your own person. They’re for you, it’s not like they are you. You can live without, if you really want to.”

The two of you let that statement settle for a moment. He’s right, you know all too well. Still, the thought leaves a wad of uncomfortable and complicated feelings lodged in your throat.

After a moment’s pause, you break the silence.

“I have too many years of trauma and not enough therapy money to unpack everything I’m feeling right now.”

Taylor cracks first, and giggles come pouring out of the two of you. The joke wasn’t even funny, but you guessed the two of you had been serious for far too long.

Some minutes later, when the giggles finally die down and you return to watching Taylor’s show, you find yourself with your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right?” Taylor quietly picks up where the conversation had left off.

“Sure,” you agree, “Like I was there for you when you cried over a boy I told you wasn’t shit.” You completely deserve the elbow to the side you receive for that comment.

“Shut up, I’m being cheesy!” Taylor scolds with a laugh.

“I’m lactose intolerant!” You complain, but obligingly fall silent.

“Seriously,” Taylor insists, “I’ll be here every step of the way. Whatever you need.”

You wrap your arms around the one of his that you’re leaning on and give a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. “Thanks Tay.” you murmur.

“Of course. You got me front row tickets to a SKZ concert, we’re ride or die whether you like it for not!” You poke his side to scold him for not being serious after just insisting that you be, but end up having to fight for your life when he immediately retaliates by trying to tickle you.

It takes the two of you quite a while to calm down again, Taylor smug in his victory. He holds your ankles in his lap like trophies of war as you stare at the ceiling. The quiet creeps back in quickly, so you speak.

“I’m just not sure what I want, I think.” You tell him, “I don’t want to meet them. But at the same time, I really do, y’know?”

Taylor nods, “Just let the universe do its thing.” he suggests, “If you’re meant to meet them now, you’ll meet them regardless of what you want. But after you meet them, it’s all up to you.”

You nod along, humming your acceptance of his advice. He’s right, again. You can’t really fight fate, even if you desperately want to. But even within that large restraint, you’re a human being with free will. The world is your oyster and all that.

You let your thoughts fade out and just listen to Taylor yap about the drama on the TV as he finally tunes back into it.

It’s nearly dawn when the two of you decide to turn in, post-concert jitters having deserted you and heavy conversations having taken their toll.

“Did you manage to get their name before you bolted?” Taylor asks out of nowhere as you’re walking to your respective rooms. “Your soulmate’s” He clarifies at your confused look.

“Oh, I didn’t need to.” You answer absentmindedly, already opening your door and dreaming of your cozy sheets. “It was Bangchan.”

You close your door on his gawping face, blissfully unaware of the crisis you’d just sent him into.

Perma Tag List: @Mbioooo0000

[nipuni]

I have another DW report! It took a while because we've been hosting friends and family visiting from abroad for a few months now and had a lot of work on top of that so we haven't had much quiet time alone to sit and watch but we made it to the end of S10!!

I'll share our thoughts under the cut because it's a lot!

We adored 12! His run was amazing, one of the best! A lot of episodes became all time favourites for us and Peter Capaldi is now our second favourite Doctor after David. His acting is impeccable and he is a delight to watch. He is so funny and inspiring and everything The Doctor should be, absolutely loved him!!

We enjoyed Clara, her characterization had some inconsistencies with her having several different arcs that felt disjointed at times but she is so memorable and made herself into such an integral part of The Doctor's life. Watching her change and their relationship become more codependent and unhinged as time went on was super interesting. Nardole grew on us. And BILL? Bill!! Oh my god dear Bill managed to outsuffer even Martha and that is saying a lot, I'm still traumatized I was not expecting the finale to go that way for her what the fuck and what a finale that was, devastating, we loved it!! but GOD sweet Bill her fate was brutal, I would have loved to see her go on more adventures and grow 😭

Now, the highlight of these seasons for me was Missy!! I'm obsessed, she's my favourite version of The Master so far and my favourite character after The Doctor, I LOVE HER 🙏 She needs more seasons! (I'm aware of the audios I'll get my ears on those as soon as I can) She's hilarious and clever, mean but soft and so so gorgeous AHHHHH She somehow manages to be terrifying and endearing at the same time and you can feel and share The Doctor's hope for her. Her death broke my heart, what do you mean The Doctor will never find out she stood with him in the end!! The romance, the tragedy!! I didn't dare hope they would take their story there and they went above and beyond. Every second she was on screen I was holding my breath and kicking my feet for real. To the people that said I would love their relationship when I started watching DW you were so right and know me too well 😳

Some of our favourite episodes from 12's run were Listen, Mummy on the Orient express, Heaven Sent and The doctor falls. Though there are a lot of good ones really, all the ones with Missy in them, Deep Breath, Flatline, Oxygen, the heist one, Thin Ice, The pilot, the one with the ghosts underwater, the ones with the pyramid monks, the parts with River, the one with the boxes and Zygons, the last special, all really enjoyable!!

We are also five episodes into S11 and I have to admit that despite our best efforts so far we are not enjoying Chibnall's writing at all 😫 but it's still early so we stay hopeful, maybe it's just a rough start and it will pick up after all the exposition. We will keep going so that we are all caught up by the time the new season starts airing!!

I hope you are all doing well! I am once again apologizing for not replying to asks in ages!! I've been mostly away from social media for months outside of posting every now and then so they keep piling up and it's become intimidating 😫 but I'll get to them soon!!

I also wanted to thank you for all the kind comments and tags on my art and photos, they really keep me going so I'm very grateful!! 😭💖

[twst-drabbles]

Trapped in a Fish's Eye 1

Summary: "It's not looking for a meal," you reassured Azul with a whisper in the dark, "It's looking for anyone that's willing to look at it. So keep all those windows closed, and make sure nobody gets out. It'll pass soon enough."

(Eldritch Prefect time! This time, everyone at Octavinelle is trapped inside their own dorm with no way out, and they're going to be stuck here for what seems like an eternity! Time dilation kind of thing. So, it's basically a little mini event where you can send in what kinds of fucked up things happen in this trapped space. So, I'm asking, what do you want to happen while everyone is trapped in here? What disasters and horrible things do you want to happen? Everything will go back to normal soon enough, so no need to worry about lasting consequences!)

You never really stray far from that group of first years, Azul noticed. You linger around, watch over those rambunctious students as they go about their everyday shenanigans as though there wasn't something wrong with the world around them. As though these creatures and beings that slowly dwindle down the population simply don't exist.

Well, how is Azul one to talk? In a weird way, this should to be comforting. He and most of Octavinelle come from the sea, and those cold waters aren't known for its gentle embrace. It was only by a miracle that his own mother didn't starve to death when he hatched.

Azul hasn't met many like him, but with the ones he does know, none of them had mothers, let alone fathers. Often, they're all orphans. Azul was lucky. Very, very lucky.

But, such luck wouldn't keep him safe from the sheer discomfort of living on land. Yes, yes he'd be a fool to say that living above waters is somehow safer than back home, but there is this… rule of sorts, this expectation that death, while an everyday part of life, wasn't something to be treated with a casual wave of a hand.

Death was not as welcome a visitor.

Which is why it's so strange to Azul that every land dweller would ignore all these dangers. This kind of acting was a part of his sea life, not on land. It's annoying, it's grating, and it's worrying overall.

But what can he do? He knows nothing of the new and recent dangers. You do. And you continue to walk on as normal. While Azul can't say he feel any modicum of trust in you, he can't deny that your knowledge was something that saved his hide again and again, even if you went about it in such a roundabout way just to grab at some entertainment.

"You'll be having a stalker in the coming week," you said just as you walked into the lounge, silencing the entire are despite it being its busiest week, "Make sure to cover everything that can make you see the outside. You wouldn't want to catch that its gaze."

So, the students in the Octavinelle dorm will have to forgive him for being as panicked as he was when he ordered every window covered and every door locked.

"Aren't you overreacting a little?" Azul heard one of his staff members say, "I mean, come on. It can't be scarier than the stuff up on land. Besides, there's a magic barrier over this place! I think we'll be fine."

That same man would be dragged by you kicking and screaming from a window he tried to pry open, face half morphed, almost melting with dropping fish scales and conjoined milky eyes. You made easy work of him, a clean cut of his head and yet he still gaped.

You placed his head in the room where everyone grabs their breakfast. You smiled at Azul as you said, "They'll need a reminder, won't they? Of what it means to be under that moonlit gaze."

He tapped his finger frantically on the table, unable to look away at this… this fool that he probably should've done better to warn.

Azul isn't callous, as much as he makes himself out to be a cutthroat business man.

"What does it want?" Azul practically growled, "Why is this creature here?"

And when can he and the rest of this dorm get out? There's an emergency mirror here just in case of fire hazards, but no amount of magic can get it to work. The glass is pitch black, so it can't even function as a regular mirror.

"It's not looking for a meal," you reassured Azul with a whisper in the dark, "It's looking for anyone that's willing to look at it. So keep all those windows closed, and make sure nobody gets out. It'll pass soon enough."

"And what if it comes back?" He slammed his fist. It hasn't been that long, only two days and there's still plenty of food, but it was enough for Azul to digest the possibility that they'll be here for a very long time.

Soon enough to you may very well be forever to him. Azul's not a fool. He knows you're not human to begin with.

You shrugged as you grabbed the glass case. You shook it, and the head melted further, as though an old and wasted organ. "Then it'll come back. But it won't. Why try twice when it won't succeed the first time in luring someone out? It's not human. It won't even think to try again, not when it has near infinite hunting grounds."

A younger him would've pushed through the haze of dread and find ways to deal with this monster. A more naive him would've been powered by curiosity and the possibility of milking more money out of this once he's controlled the danger.

But he's been in your hands. He's gazed into the threads that make up your being and felt you unravel his in turn, bit by bit. He couldn't weave himself back together. You had to do it. And so he forgot it all, besides his body's very warning to never look back.

"But, I do have to warn you," you place the case down and took Azul's hat, forcing him to look up, "We will be out soon enough, but it will seem like an eternity to you. Just endure and everything will be fine. Be sure not to get caught in that silver light, alright. Cover it up if you do."

[lollytea]

https://www.tumblr.com/avatarmerida/737373887054135296

*KICKS IN DOOR* LOLLY

Hi Hello!! It's a bright day!! A happy day!!! Its been stressful with last minute Christmas stuff but I've been looking at these drawings in between doing tasks and it's had me like 😌 all day long. I love them so much, they're my sweethearts <333 Thank you Miss Terrace I am very grateful for these!! I never lost hope that you'd post hunlow one day.

It's giving "Barbie has a great day every day. Ken has a great day if Barbie looks at him."

Willowww!!! Her pumped fist!!! Her flexed biceps!!! The loud chaotic invigorating energy here!!!! She's got such a big presence I love her so much. I notice that Dana has a thing about drawing Willow with bandages, so I imagine the girl plays it way more loose and reckless than what's been shown in the series. In my head Hunter is the one who patches her up <333

And Hunterrrr he's so puppy. Literally love this art so much for the little glimpse into how content and happy he is in this relationship. He's all sappy and silly in love, I adore it. He gets a little affectionate touch from his girlfriend and he just happily melts into it. Man just wants her to keep touching him forever and ever.

Agsbdjnk it kinda looks like she's showing him off to other people. Either as her star player or her boyfriend. Based on the clipboard Hunter is holding its probably the former. Maybe they're looking for new recruits.

Willow: BEHOLD!! THE MOST INCREDIBLE FLYER DERBY PLAYER AT HEXSIDE!!!

Hunter: hehehehehehehe she's talking about meeeee 😊

They're precious. I'd die for them.

This is so soft I'm dying. Something about hunlow being touchy is super special to me. I still haven't recovered from the end of WAD where Willow was looking for her Dads and Hunter was comforting her with a hand on her back. That's what this reminds me of. I think it's interesting and super sweet that this was apparently a very early drawing of them, while the crew was still figuring out their relationship. His hand on her back, something that became a clear display of how protective and careful he was with her, and its the first thing Dana ever drew of them. I'm insane.

ASGBDJNK AND ALSO WILLOW'S HAND ON HIS WAIST. First Dana hunlow drawing and it involves Willow babygirling him. God bless.

It also looks like he's blabbering away about something, eager to show her. I'm gonna cry. He's happy. He's comfortable. He wants to share his passions with her.

And her soft fond little smile. AAAAA!!! The crew drawing heart eyes Willows will always be so special to me. I see Willow looking like Hunter like he's her whole world and I want to blow up the sun.

Anyway AAAAAAAA!!!! This has made me very happy. I love hunlow so much.

[blood-mocha-latte]

Hi, I need an outsider's pov of postwar luztoye please, if that seems interesting enough to distract you from other tasks. 😅 Maybe a little old lady who lives next door and brings those nice boys a pie sometimes because George fixed her radio while Joe let her talk his ear off about her son who doesn't visit?

bestie i took this and RAN with it, so i'm hoping this is okay and/or what you were thinking! it got... longer, than i was expecting, but i hope you enjoy <3

---

It’s been lonely, since Lulu died.

The mutt managed to make it seventeen years before kicking it, so she counts it as a victory as best she can. 

Still, the apartment is often too quiet, so she’s grateful for the book club, even if her guest is quieter than the dead dog. 

Book club is probably pushing it, as at best it’s a mangy meeting to discuss books that neither of them necessarily enjoy. 

Still, they’re classics, and she’d like to read them at least once before she herself kicks it. Toye doesn’t seem prone to disagree with her, anyways, just sits grudgingly in the chair across from her, one crutch propped up against the armrest and the other in his lap

She looks over at him, amused. There’s a dark dip between his brows, a telltale sign of focus where focus isn’t necessarily wanted. 

“You can just pretend to read it, you know.” She says. It takes him a moment to look up at her, to pull away from the page.

“What? Oh.” He looked down at the open book in his lap. Her own was kept steady with her palm to its spine. “No, it’s fine.” Silence, for a beat. A pause. “It’s okay. It’s — this is George’s favorite.” He goes back to reading. 

She’d figured as much. The copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that he’d shown up with was obviously well-loved: the spine cracked and pressed white, yellowing pages littered with pencil markings. Toye treats it like a landmine, like it's liable to break completely in his hands.

She presses back her smile and looked down at her own copy, newly bought. “Alright.” She murmurs, and that's that. 

---

They’d moved in maybe a year and a half ago, and the only reason she knew who either of them were at all was because she’d tripped down the last two steps outside of her own building and the one with two legs had seen her and helped her back up and to her own place.

The rest didn’t really matter, and she found it rather boring. What matters is that she invited the one with two legs up for dinner as a form of gratitude and he’d shown up with the one with one leg that looked a little rougher around the edges and that was that.

---

The one with two legs was Luz, who worked every day, and the other one was Toye, who worked every three days. On Fridays, Toye would come over for her self proclaimed book club with whatever she’d deigned best to read.

“I think it’s a load of crock.” She tells Toye on one of these Fridays, flipping through her pick of the week distastefully. “Overall written alright, but underall it’s garbage. What a worthless read.”

Toye is always generous enough not to mention that she’s always the one to choose the books. “I think there could be a point to it.” He says, always hoarser than she’d think he’d sound, and he talks so very little that she should probably be less tetchy. Still, bad habits are hard to break, and she scoffs.

“Yeah, and what would that be? Fate or God’s plan? Because neither seem to be good and neither are anything close to happening, no matter how much you pray.” She flipped through another few pages disdainfully. Toye’s own copy sat carefully in his lap, and he deigned not to touch it, tapping his fingers instead against the wood of the crutch that stayed across his lap.

“I don’t know.” He said, glanced out of her window. She knew why, and didn’t have to follow his gaze. The only reason that Luz had seen her at all when she had fallen was because they lived directly across from each other, right down to the building's story and window make. “There’s a testament to things falling into place.”

There’s something fragile resting along the lines of his face, and she has to pause for a moment, remind herself how utterly young he is. How young the both of them are.

She has a husband in a cemetery she isn’t able to get to anymore, because the streets are too crowded and her knees are too bad, and a son that’s lost forever in the mud in some godforsaken island in the Pacific, and if praying could have prevented that, they’d still be with her. 

She doesn’t say any of that. She watches Toye’s face carefully before huffing and looking back down to her own book. “I want to read another Shakespeare, next.” She says. “I think he’s an overrated rats’ ass, and you can quote me on that.”

---

On the same Friday’s where she hosts book club, Luz will come by after he’s done at wherever he works with some sort of tupperware of something and they’ll eat dinner with her.

She’d never tell them, but it feels less like an embarrassing sort of pity, when one of them only has one leg. 

“I think that he was a hack, God rest his soul.” She tells them one day, because they’ll listen to her, and she was thinking about it earlier, and there wasn’t even Lulu to tell. “I mean, do all you want and bow to him in whatever, but he was a right fool. I think that it was that wife of his that kept him in line, more than anything.”

Luz is smiling into his own bowl of food, and he’s prone to doing that. He won’t look at her, like he’s worried he’ll burst out laughing if he does, but she doesn’t mind. She came to the conclusion a long time ago that he just likes laughing, and she won’t care much if he does so because of her.

Toye’s always more serious, nods and is able to meet her face and send annoyed looks at the man at his elbow, who usually sits on the floor next to her stuffed armchair. “Eleanor’s a hell of a lady.” He says, and she nods at him, approving.

“She was the real one, if you ask me.” She says, and Luz coughs a bit into his bowl and coughs a bit more lightheartedly when Toye’s hand comes down to shove at his shoulder.

---

On the days that Toye works, and only in the wintertime, Luz sometimes visits by himself.

She has a sneaking suspicion that he’s intimidated by her, in some way, or something about her apartment is off putting. She doesn’t care all that much. He’s a nice enough boy, and he helped her back up the stairs, but she’s always had more of a proclivity for the quiet ones.

In the winter, he tends to be more of one of those himself, paler and usually scruffier than usual.

He looks so on the day that he knocks on her door and when she opens it, he looks like he hasn’t shaved in three days and eaten in six. 

“Dear God.” She says, and steps back from the door to usher him in before he can freeze her apartment. “You look like a transient.”

She never paid much attention to what was going on in the Atlantic, other than the newsreels (which she never went to) and by word of mouth from her friends (which she didn’t have) and newspapers and magazines (which she rarely left the house to get).

Her war, like it was her boy's war, was with the islands, and when he died, her study of it died with him. 

Still, she knew enough to recognize that Europe could get cold and that hollow eyes are often related to that ice. 

Luz doesn’t laugh nearly as much in the wintertime, or smile, and she can’t even get him to crack half of one, even when she deigns to instead criticize Toye, which usually works.

“Oh, for Gods’ sake.” She ends up saying today, hips aching and irritated. “Now I have to waste coffee on you. Perfectly good waste, most of it is going to end up in that… thing, on your face.”

She doesn’t like beards. Never did like it when her boy grew one, said it made him look more grown-up than she’d allow.

Luz still doesn’t smile.

Fifteen minutes later, she sits with him in the overstuffed armchairs and wonders about what boys still find funny when he asks her, quite out of the blue, “What do you do when you miss someone?”

She blinks.

“Well, I’m sad about it.” She says, and when Luz just stares down at the mug she’d pushed onto him, rather desolate looking, she sighs and tries to think of something else to say. “I get angry. Or I knit. Or I look through my photos. Missing someone isn’t a glove. Why?”

Luz huffs, but it isn’t exactly happy. She doesn’t like it when Toye has to leave. He always seems happier, when the other one is around. The creases around his eyes aren’t so frustratingly deep.

“Nothing.” He says, and his voice is hoarse. “Just thinking about people who’re gone.”

She watches him, critical. God, she hopes he shaves before she sees him again. It’s really just improper. 

“They never found my son's body.” She tells him. “Or they did, and they lied to me. Either way, he left and he’s gone and I barely have anything of him but what I remember and what he wore. So you find things that help you do more than obsess over those things.” She thinks of Lulu, of her soft fur and the way that she’d lick at her face. “And that’ll be gone before you know it, too, so you have to appreciate it all. You can’t afford to stop loving things in the world just because someone you love is no longer in it.”

She stares back down at her cup. 

Luz clears his throat, and when she looks up, he cracks half of a smile at her awkwardly. His eyes are dark, there isn’t much light there. “Thank you.” He says, and she wishes she hadn’t told him about her boy. Still, she feels warm.

“Good god, child.” She says, anyways. “Go home and shave. You look like some sort of Hungarian.”

Luz doesn’t laugh, but looks like he might have, if it wasn’t wintertime.

---

Later on in the same night, they’re up later than they usually are, and she only knows it because she’s trying to get through a chapter for book club on Friday and she can see their silhouettes through their lit up window, light and orange and slightly blurry.

She doesn’t watch them for long, doesn’t want to pry.

Luz’s arms are around Toye’s neck, his face dropped down to his shoulder. Toye’s arms are wrapped fully around him, maybe more for balance than anything else. The way they’re turning, it looks like they're dancing. She wonders to what music.

She used to dance like that, with her husband. That was how she taught her boy, as he stood on top of her shoes and she held his little hands. 

She shuffles back over to the armchair and goes back to reading her book. She doesn’t like this one either.

---

One day, she thinks they might be arguing. 

Toye comes over on a Thursday night, instead of a Friday, and looks rather tired. It’s springtime, which is why she’s more hesitant about letting him in, but he’s shaved, so she allows it.

“Could I stay over for the night?” He asks her, voice raspy. “I’d – I hate to ask, but—”

She squints at him. “You’re the one with one leg.” She says. “Shouldn’t he be leaving?” Toye coughs. He shifts on his crutches, glances vaguely over his shoulder in a way that makes him look rather guilty.

“No, it’s—” He starts, and cuts himself off. “I want him to stay in the apartment.” He looks vaguely embarrassed. She squints at him again, but in the end just starts moving back towards her armchair.

“Fine.” She says. “I like you better than I like him, anyways.”

---

She tosses a bunch of moth-eaten blankets from the closet onto the floor and tells Toye good luck with standing back up and gets to bed. Toye looks strangely pleased about her rudeness, so she keeps that in mind and makes note to tell him that he needs a haircut tomorrow.

---

Toye stays over the whole day and helps her with small things and she tells him that he needs a haircut, and needs to shave, and needs to go outside more, and needs to get a better job, and needs better crutches, and should wear his fake leg more often, and a dozen other things before they sit down to read and do so for hours.

Book club lasts much longer than it usually does, but when there’s the usual knock at the door, albeit more tentative, Toye looks up and looks, again, so painfully young that she sort of wants to smack him for it.

She doesn’t. She pushes to her feet and complains the whole way to the door.

Luz doesn’t have food, and he barely says hello, just looks right past her to Toye, says in a soft, hoarse voice that she thinks means that he’s been smoking and that he wants to talk.

She looks from him, to Toye, to him again, and decides to stay out of it. “Get out of here, the both of you.” She says. “And clean up, before I see you again. You both have jobs, you know.”

---

She doesn’t see them for maybe three or four days after that, doesn’t even see them entering or exiting their own building. She wonders if one or both of them are sick, but thinks they might just be locked up in their own apartment for some godforsaken reason. 

They don’t emerge for days and Luz is the first one that she sees, looking more relaxed than he has since the wintertime. He waves at her, but doesn’t spend too much time outside. Just pitches a cigarette over his shoulder and skips back up to the apartment, and that’s the last she sees of either of them for another two days. 

She supposes they’ve made up.

---

She only goes over to their apartment once. 

It’s alright. Rather homely.

There’s only one chair in the sitting room, which is rather ridiculous, though every time she’s seen him, Luz usually insists on sitting on the floor, so she supposes that may be a part of it. The kitchen is small, rather boring. A whiteboard sits on top of the fridge, tracking something by tally marks that she’s not privy to knowing. They don’t let her into either of the bedrooms, and she doesn’t care much to investigate.

“You, uh.” Luz tells her awkwardly, hands in his pockets, mouth quirked up in his forever-grin. “We could start eating here, if you’d like.”

She wrinkles her nose at the cracked open fire escape and the dishes in the sink and the crooked blanket on the chair. “I’m quite alright.” She says, and decides not to come back. 

(There’s one of those song-players on a table off to the side, however. It looks more expensive than anything else in the apartment. Underneath it is a basket, and the only vinyl she’s able to make out is one of Billie Holliday.

Ugh. Figures.)

---

They come over every Friday for two years and she sees them more often than that, and as soon as something changes, she can tell immediately. It annoys her.

She knows right off the bat because Toye’s wearing his prosthetic, which he never does, and Luz is shaved, which doesn’t matter much, because his hair is still much too long. 

“Where’s the house at?” She asks him, after barely another two minutes, because she’s connected the dots and doesn’t want to wait for them to be explained to her. 

Luz is the one, for once, to pause. Toye turns to look at him, face doing the same sort of lined, barely held back guarded emotion that it often throws up around the other man before he looks back at her, hesitates.

“It’s, uh.” He says. She sighs, wants to tell him to knock it off with the pausing. “In Bedford. It’s—”

He keeps talking, and she deigns to ignore him to instead watch Luz, the way he looks at Toye. It’s the same sort of emotion, barely lined, making him heavier.

She wonders if her boy got to care so much about someone, before he was killed.

“Alright.” She says, maybe with a sigh, holds up a hand and decides that’s that. She’ll miss book club, but if she truly gave a rats ass, she’d join a real one. Maybe she will, now. “Make sure you pack enough. And shave. You have jobs.” 

Toye’s smile is a crooked curve, and Luz’s takes over his whole face. She looks at both of them, unimpressed. 

“Write to me, if you want.” She says. “Or visit. God knows I’m not going anywhere.”

She’s not, either. Maybe she’ll get another Lulu.

---

They leave on a Wednesday, which annoys her only because it’s such a random day to leave somewhere, with some sort of boring car packed with trunks in the middle of the summer.

She watches from the steps of her own building, arms crossed, and gives them advice on how to best stack the luggage, which they don’t follow. 

“They’re all going to fall out and you’ll be left with broken and dirty things, and then you’ll see who’s in the right.” She tells Toye, who’s closer, annoyed. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t say anything.

Luz looks back at them and smiles, but she knows he’s not looking at her.

---

She stands on the steps until it’s time for them to leave, and she hates dilly-dallying, so she rushes through the goodbyes by patting Luz’s cheek and grimacing at the stubble there. He looks like he might laugh at her. 

She lets Toye get a step further and give her half of a hug, which she’s also not a fan of but allows anyways.

He watches her with those careful, dark eyes and says, very punctually, “Thanks, Moira.”

She waves him off. “You should be thanking me for trying to help you with the luggage.” She says, pointed. “Off you go. Get a dog. God knows there’s enough of them running around.”

From a few feet behind Toye, Luz laughs. 

---

She can see their silhouettes, as they get in the car. Can see what looks like Toye kissing Luz on the cheek. She grimaces.

It must have been a horrid kiss. He never does shave enough.

[tis-the-marmot]

Just some of my thoughts on The Bad Batch finale or, well, The Bad Batch in general under the cut

You know, I can still vividly picture my old self back in 2020, awaiting Ahsoka's return when Season 7 of The Clone Wars had just been released. Then I began watching, and The Bad Batch made their very first appearance. I was like "who the hell are these soldiers, I couldn't care less about their arc. where's Ahsoka. Oh is she coming later? Fine, I guess I can put up with these clones for a few more episodes."

And as I kept watching I could feel myself gradually warming up to them. "Hm. I guess they're not so bad after all. The sniper is kinda cool. And they all have their interesting little dynamics with each other. Echo's back yippiee!! And he's joining the Bad Batch, good for him, good for him."

Still, that wasn't enough to shake my initial indifference, and I quickly went back to wanting them gone. "Okay seriously you guys have stolen too much screentime, I'm ready to see Ahsoka kick Maul's ass now, so byeee"

Who. Would've. Known. Who would've thought I was talking about the same clone squad that would reduce me to a crying mess four years later.

Would 2020 Marmot believe present-day Marmot if I told her that snarky sniper would become one of her favourite Star Wars characters? Would she nod along with uncertainty if I advised her not to get too attached to that guy with the goggles, only for her to grow fond of him anyway?

Would she laugh in my face if I counted all the occasions she would've rewatched those four TCW episodes in the future - the same ones she couldn't wait to get over with the first time - just to recall the simpler days of Clone Force 99?

How would she react if I described her excitement when they first announced that The Bad Batch was going to have its own show, and her absurd feeling of emptiness now that everything's over after three seasons?

I really wish I could delve into a deeper analysis of the last episode and comment on everything that happened, I'd really love to. But I just can't. Not while I'm still trying to process the fact that this series has officially ended.

And what a bittersweet ending to an equally bittersweet story. I've always recognised The Bad Batch for what it is, with all of its strengths and flaws, and I admit there are some narrative choices I still don't fully agree with. But despite everything this show means the world to me. The characters mean the world to me. I've seen Omega grow, change her brothers for the better and let herself be changed by them as well. I've seen how the presence, or rather the absence of certain Bad Batch members affected and shaped the rest of the squad. I laughed with them, cried with them, got frustrated alongside them and sometimes WITH them too. I will forever treasure every single moment I spent with the Bad Batch in mind, from the anticipation and the cryptic tweets the day before every airing, to reading all the different theories and admiring the fanart right after finishing the episode of the week.

Saying goodbye is unbelievably difficult, but I'm so, so grateful for the experience. The Bad Batch will always hold a special place in my heart. A heartfelt thank you to everyone involved in creating this wonderful show, and to the fellow fans who shared this unforgettable journey with me from beginning to end. ❤️🖤