#twice the normal amount of dad in fact

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

[seeingivy]

sharing

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

things change slightly in the weeks that follow. 

according to your mom, who called you very upset on a tuesday afternoon, your dad had apparently decided to stay in town until the end of the month – and on very strict orders from sukuna and possibly any shred of self-preservation that you had in you – you weren’t going to be going back until he was gone for good. 

messages from sammy were few and infrequent, except for whenever she got drunk – something she very clearly got from your mom. always the same message, deeply apologetic and regretful, and it somehow was very slowly melting whatever it was that happened at the funeral. 

or it was just one of those things. 

she was your sister – she was blunt, a little harsh at times, but well meaning. or at least trying to be. but she was still your sister and for some reason, you were just going to get over it, in the real way, without thinking twice. 

but you do realize that it was too naive to think that years of butting heads and stepping on each other’s toes wasn’t going to go away just because you had decided to be friends and sang kumbaya while buying lingerie. 

that much should have been obvious though, since sukuna and yuuji had done their version of that years prior, and yet still had the meltdown they did a few months ago. it was always one of those complicated things you figured – growing up in the same house, being competition, stuck in admiration or hatred. 

the family business, one that sukuna and yuuji both refused to ever be a part of, has fallen at the seams. and while sukuna has no intention of ever working there – much to satoru’s delight – he’s fixing the mess of the finances that were left behind for all of the employees and the stipends that he were going to help his mom. 

meaning he has to go back to town. the town that you refuse to return to for the time being. and he won’t let you accompany him.   

and it’s in the week that he disappears that you wonder if you’re starting to be too codependent. if it’s normal for you to miss someone this amount, to worry about him so much, to the point where he occupies your every thought. 

he tries to call when he can. sometimes they’re a few in between because you know that he’s spending time with his mom, that he doesn’t like being home, that whatever it all is – it’s stressful and he hates it. 

your mom sends you a picture of him once in a while. sometimes you stare at it for a little too long. 

“hi sweet girl. how are you?” 

his voice sounds tired over the phone, the smallest hint of a rasp tinged in with the strained tone. 

“i’m okay, ryo. how are you?” 

sukuna can feel his heart sink at the nickname. at the fact that you use nicknames, terms of endearment, and he hasn’t heard them in days. 

“good, good. are you getting ready for bed?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah.” 

there’s a quiet beat. maybe you should have been more descriptive than that. that was a little flat. 

“is that fucking gel cat strawberry in the spot next to you?” 

you smile. 

“it’s a jelly cat. and yes, it is.” 

“enjoy it while it lasts. i’m going to throw it out the window when i get back.” 

“you’re so rude.” 

he laughs over the line and you can’t help but sigh before immediately regretting it. 

you wonder if he sleeps well. or if he laughs often with the moms or if he’s just run in different directions trying to make sure they’re all okay. 

“oh don’t break my heart, now. you miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

you can tell by the tone in the voice that he’s trying to coddle you. you almost want to give in just to hear him sweet talk you down. 

“yeah. gets real scary here without you.” you joke

“is that right?” 

“not actually. but you know like right before you go to sleep and the house creaks? i panic for one second and then decide that i should send a prayer out to the universe so i don’t die before falling asleep.” 

“always one for the dramatics.” 

“i know. i’m sure it always creaks but i’ve always shared a room – either with sammy or with mai across the way who was always blasting music. and you snore, so i never even not–” 

“i don’t snore.” 

“yes, you do.” 

“no, i don’t.” 

“i will admit. while it does take me some time to fall asleep, i’ve never slept so soundly with you gone. it’s so serene.” 

you know for a fact that sukuna’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 

“wow, sweetheart. i should just do you a favor and stay here longer then.” 

“every night i wake up in a panic without you! i’ll never sleep again!” you joke. 

sukuna laughs. 

“that sounds about right. but really…i…i’ll be back soon, okay? i don’t like being away for so long.” he murmurs quietly. 

you frown. 

“don’t feel bad. you know you have to be there.” 

“i don’t feel bad. well, maybe i do a little but i mainly just fucking miss you.” he mumbles. 

you smile. 

“sap.” 

you pause. 

“i miss you too, you know?” 

“i was waiting for that. give me a little more.” he responds. 

you smile. mainly at the fact that he expresses what he wants so openly. or that he misses it just as much as you do. 

“i miss you a lot. it feels so weird to sleep in our bed without you that i fall asleep on the fold out couch.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“you mean you fall asleep watching tv and don’t move because i’m not there to pick you up?” 

“yeah, more like that.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“sleep in the guest.” 

“ew. it smells like yuuji and megumi’s cologne. and while they smell great, i don’t like smelling like them when i wake up.” 

“does our bed smell like me?” he asks. 

“yeah but i prefer the real thing so i sleep on the couch. i refuse to elaborate.” 

sukuna gets it. 

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m almost done and then…then i’m running back to you, alright?” he whispers. 

“okay. i do have something planned this weekend for your birthday, but don’t stress about it. it won’t be anything big.” 

sukuna pauses. 

he forgot that his birthday was coming around. 

he would be lying if he was saying that he wasn’t looking forward to it. he supposes that he was your opposite in that way. since no matter what it was, the circumstances good or bad, your birthday had been soured so bad that nothing could make it good – not even him. 

he didn’t blame you. or even take it personally.  

but he couldn’t relate. because he knew you – and it wasn’t arrogant of him to assume that you were going to go all out, no matter the circumstances. not only did you have a bad habit of leaving tabs or notes that were very clearly labeled gift ideas out in the open, but he knew that you would do something special for him, that he’d get to chart in all of the cherished memories that he had with you. 

it would be another sour patch of his that you’d sew right over, with careful and steady hands. but with every milestone that he thought of now, it was bittersweet. 

first birthday with you. first birthday without his dad – not that it really meant much in the first place. 

“no parties.” sukuna clarifies. 

“no, it’ll actually be just you and me. and i think you’ll like it, you–” 

“i’ll love it.” 

you smile. 

“i love you.” you state. 

he’s quiet on the other side of the line. 

“sukuna?” 

“i want to say it back but the moms are staring at me.” he mumbles quietly.

you smirk. 

“say it.” 

“no.” 

“you’re going to let me go to bed without an i love you?” 

“i’ll text it to you.” 

“ryomen sukuna. tell me you love me.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“i love you. call me if you can’t sleep, okay?” 

you can hear giggling in the background. and you’re sure he’s three different shades of pink. 

“i will.” 

--

not even an hour later, yuuji is standing on your doorstep – with a peachy smile and a bag slung over his shoulder. 

“yuuji? you–” 

“sleepover!” 

he walks past you and falls straight onto the couch, placing his bag next to him as he reaches for the remote. you quickly shut the door and take the spot next to him, watching as he starts shuffling through the movies, so cavalier about barging in so late and unannounced. 

“do you always show up to people’s apartment’s unprovoked with all your things?” 

yuuji smiles, reaching forward to flick your forehead. 

“no, just for you.” 

“figures.” 

you watch as he flits through all of the movies, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you return the gesture and lean your cheek against his. it takes two seconds for you to figure it out. 

“did he call you?” you ask. 

“he did. said some weird stuff about tables and carrying stuff. pretty sure he was just asking me to keep you company, which don’t mind if i do.” yuuji responds. 

you smile. of course. 

“i made one half joke about how i don’t like to sleep alone and he sent you running.” 

“isn’t that sweet? i can tell he’s been thinking about you a lot.” yuuji responds. 

you lean back, giving him a confused look. and you can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, but pretends otherwise. 

“what? it’s sweet! he asked me to come take care of you.” yuuji clarifies. 

“since when do you find him sweet? no lecture about how he thinks i can’t handle things on my own?” 

yuuji scoffs, before pressing on the princess diaries. 

“you can’t take care of anything on your own.” 

“what a vote of confidence.” you deadpan

yuuji sighs, as you watch the movie start, and both sink deeper into the couch. a telltale sign that you realize both sukuna and yuuji have – one that you deeply appreciate – is that they’re always careful with their words. 

the opposite of sammy really, of your dad too. they won’t talk until they know whatever they’re going to say is something they mean. 

“you can take care of things on your own. but i like that being with him means that you don’t have to sometimes. for both of you.” yuuji states. 

you smile. 

“i like that too. it’s a nice change.” you respond. 

“i’m really sorry, y/n.” 

“i know.” 

yuuji swallows hard, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie before he turns to your side, your limbs now a tangled mess of being criss-crossed as he leans forward. 

“really. i’ve been so shit to you when this is all i’ve ever wanted for you.” 

“it’s okay. this…this stuff is really complicated for you and…” 

yuuji shakes his head, before looking down at your joined hands, fingers interlocked together. 

“this isn’t any excuse but…but…” 

yuuji sighs. 

“when sukuna came back, i thought he was really different. i mean, he was really different. i don’t know what you noticed, but he came back softer. he always gave me my space and let me come to him and we were working back through all of our stuff together.” yuuji starts. 

you’re not sure if you noticed a difference after he came back. he always seemed the same as always – a little withholding, like he was keeping you at arms distance. though, that seems to make more sense to you now. 

“but he’s still the brother i grew up with. there’s still things that i’m sensitive to, that…that i can’t get over.” 

you feel a pang in your chest. 

“i get that. you know…i kind of get that with sammy sometimes.” 

yuuji frowns. 

“yeah?” he whispers. 

you can feel the bitter contempt in your chest lingering. 

“i don’t know. i thought things were going well but…sometimes it’s just the same things as before. she’s just…always brushing me off. so harsh with her words. sometimes i think about the funeral and i’m glad sukuna’s not here just so i can lock myself in here and be alone.” 

you shake your head. 

“it’s like she’s picking at a scab. it’s the one thing i don’t want her to do and it’s the one thing that always happens. and she’s the only person who has that power in the first place, who…who gets to be that sore spot. and i know that it’s just how it is and it’s complicated but…” 

“but you can’t.” yuuji finishes. 

you shrug. 

“you were my scab.” yuuji states. 

you curl your nose in disgust, looking up to find the same expression mirrored on his face before you both laugh. 

“real cute.” 

“i mean…my thing with sukuna was that he was always better than me in every respect. that…that everything he did was perfect, that…that he was born normal and i wasn’t.” 

you cringe. 

“you are normal, you..” 

yuuji smiles. 

“i know i am. i just mean in my head, i always figured things were so easy for him. school was easy, sports were easy. he liked girls – he’d never have to sit there and debate if he was ever going to meet someone who liked him and when if he did, he wouldn’t have to give up his entire family for it.” 

yuuji pauses. 

“you were my best friend. you are my best friend. you’re my thing that’s always been easy. we don’t really fight, spending time with you never gets old, and…and really, you’re the only person i’ve known will always be around.” 

you smile. 

“it just felt like another thing he was going to be better at than me. and it’s selfish, but it was something i didn’t want to share. and i don’t expect you to get it, but…” 

you scoff. 

“don’t expect me to get it? you’re forgetting that i was the one who had to learn how to share you first. and maybe i didn’t say it out loud, but…i had some evil monologues for megumi that i was cooking up in my head.” 

yuuji laughs, almost like he’s relieved. 

“really?” 

“trust me. there was an entire basis behind the petty comments that i was making. i should have been more open with it but…but i don’t hate you for feeling that way. if anything, it makes me kind of happy, i guess. it did feel like you forgot all about me once you guys started dating, but…it’s nice to know you feel that way still. about me. even if it was annoying.” 

you pause. 

“you and i are special. and i can’t speak for you, but…sukuna’s never going to be what you are for me. i love him, but you…you’re not someone who could ever be replaced.” you affirm. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and megumi isn’t what you are for me either. he’s the love of my life. but you’re always going to be my soulmate.” 

you smile, rolling over the word in your head. soulmate – you and yuuji were soulmates. and he leans forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. 

“now go on. tell me about him.” 

“what?” you ask. 

“i know you want to tell me about how happy you are. how it makes you feel. and i want to hear it. just refrain from talking about like how big his dick is or whatever and i’ll be fine.” 

you smile. 

“really? you mean it?” 

yuuji smiles back. 

“i’ve unfortunately heard the entire story of what that asshole was doing to you after the fact. it would make me really happy to hear how happy you are now.” 

you lean back on the couch and explain it all to him – french toast, bridgerton mugs (which he winces at when he remembers sammy broke them), emails, his coworkers, kisa, and everything in between. 

you don’t hear the apartment creak at night when you go to bed – instead it’s his labored breaths next to yours. 

--

sukuna makes it back early in the morning to find yuuji making breakfast in the kitchen and what he knows is you facedown still dead asleep in the mound of blankets on the couch. he gives yuuji a noncommittal wave before walking over to the couch and bending down at the side. 

sukuna can’t help but reach forward, brushing his back of his fingers against the softness of your cheek before tangling your hair away from your forehead. he can smell the remnants of the shampoo in your hair, your lips still a glossy pink from the balm you put on at night. 

“wake her up. give her a kiss.” yuuji whispers, now standing at his side. 

“are you crazy? she’s sleeping.” 

sukuna shakes his head, reaching forward to press a kiss to your hairline, before the two of them shuffle back to the kitchen. sukuna settles for a cup of coffee as he watches yuuji make the mix of french toast, the stillness hanging in the air between them. 

“dunno. if it were me and i went days without seeing megumi, i’d wake him up right away. why deprive myself of love and affection?” 

“you should deprive yourself more often. i’ve seen you two kiss far too many times. heard the words gumi bear way more than i’d like to.” 

yuuji snorts. 

“was she happy you came?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. doubt she heard any of that creaking or anything she was telling you about since we were talking the entire time.” yuuji responds. 

it’s a small breath of relief – that sending yuuji was the right move – only to be coupled with guilt. 

sukuna hadn’t had time to check in on yuuji. 

“what did you talk about?” 

yuuji grins. 

“you.” 

yuuji looks over at him, grinning at him fully this time. 

“special edition bridgerton mugs? twilight themed emails? who knew you were so fucking corny? and that you watch bridgerton?” 

sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up, as he rolls his eyes. 

“she loves that shit. she made me watch it.” 

“no, she didn’t. she told me that you had watched it already and that your favorite season is the first one? not only are you a liar but you have god awful taste.” 

“let me guess. you like kate and anthony, like every other person on the fucking planet?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“everyone likes it for a reason. it’s perfect.” 

the two of them glare at each other, before giving up, and letting the same stillness take over. it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something lingering there – the two of them are stuck in their own heads about how they’re going to approach it, and more importantly, who is going to do it first. 

it’s yuuji. 

“the mugs thing is sweet. i’m sorry sammy broke them.” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“i’m bidding on ebay. no big deal.” 

yuuji notes that he responds to the second part of the statement and not the first. 

“i like that you do nice things for her. she really appreciates that you do.” yuuji repeats. 

 sukuna sighs. 

“did she say that?” 

yuuji smiles. 

“all that and more. she really loves you.” 

sukuna lets his eyes wander back to the couch, settling back into how foreign the apartment feels from being away for so long, and trying to let it all come back to him – how it was before he left things, how the two of you were. 

he’s scared he’ll do it wrong. 

“I’m really happy for you too. she’s exactly what you deserve.” yuuji states. 

it’s a weird sense of deja vu that sukuna gets – of the very first night. that loud bar, the mildew smell in the bathroom, and your tear streaked pink face. of the very first time that it occurred to him that there were people who had upset you, who had let you down, and that maybe he was the only person who was good enough for you – because he was the only one who intended to give you what you deserve. 

that he got to reap the goodness of the sweet love when he knew for a fact that he’d always be one to give it back to you, no matter how he was. that he was exactly what you deserved – maybe the only person who was because of how much he loved you. 

“what?” 

yuuji takes a beat. 

“were you expecting the opposite?” yuuji asks. 

“do you blame me?” 

yuuji shakes his head. 

“i am really happy for both of you. but i wouldn’t lie if i said i was more happy for you. i’ve known her a long time – and i’ve always wanted her to have someone who saw her for how special she is. and i always knew that it would happen, it was just a matter of time.” 

yuuji continues. 

“but i’m more happy for you. i had no idea that you had liked her for that long. i only now realize that the only person you could be that open with is her. and well…i don’t fucking know. shit sucked when we were kids. maybe for all of us, but for you the most. i know she loves hard. and i mean it, that’s what you deserve after everything.” 

there’s a lump in sukuna’s throat. he wants to tell yuuji everything – about why he left, about how him being around made it easy for him for a long time, how there was a time where he didn’t think he was going to live past twenty and now he’s reaching yet another birthday on the weekend. 

“i spent my entire life thinking i’d never get to be in love. and i’m not sure if that’s what you thought – but i know you weren’t ever thinking you’d get the girl of your dreams, and that on top of that, that it would be perfect. but really. it’s nothing more than what you deserve, sukuna.” 

but all he does is give him a nod. yuuji’s smart enough to parse what it means – that in the long rambling that he heard last night – he knows he has to learn how to read the silences, the quiet cues. 

“it means a lot to her that you came around.” sukuna starts. 

sukuna clears his throat. 

“and to me too.” he finishes. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and i suppose i should thank you. i always said she was like family to me, but it’ll be nice to tell people she’s actually my sister in the future.” yuuji responds, before squeezing his shoulder. 

sukuna smiles. 

“do you really let her call you ryomen?” yuuji asks. 

“yeah.” 

“thought you hated that name.” 

“i did.” 

there’s a reason that he went by sukuna. because every time that he slipped, he’d hear that godwful venomous voice, of his father telling him that he had given him such a special family name – and that sukuna had done nothing to deserve it. 

sukuna vividly remembers when he was a kid, when he used to beg everyone around him to call him sukuna, correcting them until they virtually forgot that his name was ryomen in the first pace. 

sukuna can feel the dryness in his throat, accompanied with a burning wetness in his eyes. yuuji makes no comment about it. 

“she just says it with so much love.” 

sukuna pauses, trying to will away that rising wave of emotion that was simmering in his chest, and put it away for the time being. 

“what did she get me for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“she’s taking you on a weekend trip. a few cities over. she said there’s some cherry blossoms in season and that there’s a few museums that she wants you to see. figured it would be a nice rest for you given everything that’s been going on.” 

sukuna sighs, only because the wave comes back in full force. 

to be loved is to be known. 

clear cut proof that you had heard him loud and clear, when he had bared his soul to you. and not only that, but had known well enough that whatever was stewing in his head was getting dangerously close, maybe the closest it had been in years, to the edge – and that you had every intention to pull him back in the way he had pulled himself out in the first time. 

“is that good?” yuuji asks. 

“it’s perfect.” sukuna responds, before giving him one last nudge. 

sukuna decides that he won’t deprive himself. and instead leans forward, pressing his lips against yours – and pleasantly surprised when you smile right back at him in your sleep, his name honey on your lips, as he sinks into your arms. 

--

next part linked here

an: kind of filler again. sorry. apologies. also two more of this fic before it's done :O

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[speechlessxx]

new addition. [henry cavill x reader]

summary: anything henry does instantly goes viral.

warnings: mention of fangirls. plot twist?

word count: ~850

It was a poor choice of words on Henry’s behalf – and he knew that.

You knew he knew that.

Ever since you’ve met him, nearly three years ago, you’ve noticed that Henry relished in the chaos he created from just one simple post. Whether it was a clip of him working out or him panting after his jog or even a simple picture of Kal, he sent the internet into a frenzy each time he broke his silence on social media. In fact, you would say he’d get off on it – but of course, he would only respond with a amused smirk and a shake of his head.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he liked to drag you into his mess.

So, when your phone dinged once, then twice, then a million times after one afternoon, you knew Henry had done something yet again.

At first, you ignored the incessant chimes of Instagram and Twitter. The colorful purple and the calm blue icons staring up at you, tauntingly as if saying, “we know something you don’t”. But this wasn’t your first time on the Henry post rollercoaster, and you opted to just turn your phone on Do Not Disturb, silencing the annoying chimes and buzzing.

But only for a few hours … until curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself exchanging your novel for your cell phone.

You noticed that your accounts had an influx of new followers and posts had more likes and comments than usual. The culprit for this sudden popularity was a single tagged post from your beloved boyfriend.

It was a rather strange occurrence. Henry was keen on keeping your relationship as private as his career would allow. You’ve graced his stories once or twice throughout your two year long relationship, but he had never been so outright and forthcoming on his public feed.

The photograph was nowhere near risqué – which brought a bit or relief to your anxiety. It was a photograph of you curled up on Henry’s bare chest, sleeping your fatigue away. You were covered up enough with the nearly sheer night slip and Henry’s muscled arm wrapped around you. However, it was the caption that caught your eye.

“Our new addition kept her up all night.”

Your jaw dropped and eyes widened as you read that line over and over again. That cheeky little –

There were multiple “congratulations” comments beneath the post, followed by various celebratory emojis. Of course, there was a heavy amount of jealous fans’ inputs, but you considered yourself a veteran at this point – their comments became an inherent risk the moment Henry asked you out on a date.

Speculations, articles, “Baby Cavill” trended worldwide. You couldn’t help but slap a palm onto your forehead before groaning. Despite being frustrated because you were trending for such an obscure reason, you couldn’t help but find the entire situation amusing.

You came out of your shared bedroom just as he was walking into the house. Normally, you would take the time to admire your sculpted-by-the-gods boyfriend – especially after a run or a work out – but today, you wagged a finger in his face.

“You,” you said, in a mock scolding tone, “owe the world an explanation, Mr. Cavill.” Behind Henry padded in Kal, who ran to greet you, nudging your calves with his wet nose. “Your dad has gotten me into big trouble, bear.”

The dog stared up at you with big eyes but you knew that the only thought going through the Akita’s mind was, “treat?”

Henry burst out laughing as he pulled out his phone, undoubtedly reading through the mess he’s created. He seemed almost as elated as he was when he saw the reactions to his PC building video.

“Hennn,” you whined, pouting.

Before your boyfriend could respond, a high pitched bark could be heard as your new puppy ran  towards its family. Energic from his afternoon nap, the little guy jumped and pawed at you, trying to get your attention. He’d occasionally bump into Kal but the older dog didn’t pay him any mind, opting to lay down on the wooden floors, exhausted from his run with his dad.

You bent down to play with the little puppy, cooing at it and handling its tiny paws as Henry recorded.

He’d eventually post the multitude of photos and videos of you and the new puppy with the caption, “Just to clarify, we got a new puppy.” The simple caption would ease the fangirls, but the new puppy news did not stop Baby Cavill from continuing to trend.

Henry loved watching his family grow. The puppy testing Kal’s patience, but Kal proving time and time again that he is a very good boy. And you were an incredible dog mom. Going through the photos on his new post brought a smile to his face as he found himself getting lost in a day dream. He couldn’t wait to introduce an actual little one to the family (though you’d argue that the puppy was indeed your baby).

[loulovingho]

The Clarity

The final part of my Meeting the Parents series! You can start from the beginning here, and read the final part below or on ao3. Each part can be read separately, but it makes more sense if you read them all.

They had just made it out of The Gables and onto paved road when Buck couldn't stay silent any longer. He had been staring down at the photo album, listening to Tommy sniff and suck in breaths every now and then. And judging by the fact he was occasionally swerving slightly off the road, it was easy to assume his eyes were blurred with tears.

“Tommy,” he started, his voice soft yet assertive, “you need to pull over.”

Tommy sniffed again. His grip on the wheel tightened. “No, I'm okay.”

There was no way he could drive all the way home like this, and no way that Buck was going to let him. “Tommy,” he repeated. He looked over at him, noted the red-rimmed eyes and his trembling lip. Buck reached out and touched his shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth over the muscle. “Babe, pull over.”

Buck wasn't sure if it was the touch, or the pet name, but the dam Tommy had been building up burst. He pulled over to the side of the road just as the tears started to fall.

He leaned forward, shoulders shaking. He rested his hands and head against the steering wheel.

The photo album was quickly dropped to the floorboard. Buck unbuckled and raised the center console so he could scoot into the middle seat and wrap himself around Tommy. It was an awkward angle, but one arm wrapped around his waist, while the other rubbed up and down his back. He laid his head against Tommy's shoulder and held him.

They were like that for awhile. Silent except for the occasional gasp of breath from Tommy. Buck didn't try to stop him, didn't try to silence his cries. He just maintained his hold, and wished more than anything he could go back to the Kinard's place and knock Frank out.

It took a few minutes for Tommy's breathing to return to normal. Buck moved away just enough for him to sit up, but kept a hand on his back.

“I don't know why I'm crying,” Tommy admitted, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I'm not even sad, I'm angry.”

“That's understandable. He- He's an easy man to get angry at.”

“I don't even think it's him I'm angry at. It's me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “You? Why would you be mad at yourself?”

Another wipe of the eyes and Tommy turned to Buck, who looked all kinds of concerned. “I should have known better, Evan,” he said. “I led you in there blind, and I... I should have known better.”

“You told me they were unpredictable.” Buck shrugged. “You weren't wrong.”

“The last few times I've gone, Dad's been mostly silent. Even when mom threw that frying pan at his head, it wasn't because of anything he said, it was because he kept trying to stumble toward her and tickle her. I thought,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I thought if I brought you with me, showed them how good we are together, they'd be happy for me. For us.”

There were so many things Buck wanted to say, but none of them sounded right. None of them would fix anything.

Instead of I'm sorry or you know I love you, right the thing that came out of Buck's mouth was, “Let's get a motel.”

Tommy blinked once, twice, three times at him. “What?”

“Let's get a motel,” he repeated. “We don't have work tomorrow. Let's be spontaneous, drive to the nearest motel, do some sightseeing in the morning.”

“There's not really much to see here.”

“Oh, I'm sure there is. All the crappy motels have those stands with the brochures. We'll close our eyes and pick something.” Buck leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Tommy's mouth before moving back to his seat. “You want me to drive?”

Tommy, still trying to figure out what was happening, stared out the windshield at the vast amount of nothingness around them. “We don't have any stuff.”

“Please, we have emergency bags in both cars. Clothes, toiletries, first aid kits, whatever we need is back there.”

That was true. Seeing as they were both a bit disaster prone, they had started leaving a duffel for each of them in both vehicles. Whether it was a natural disaster, or manmade, they'd be prepared.

Still, Tommy had questions. “Why are we doing this?”

Buck reached out, wrapped his hand around Tommy's wrist, giving him a pleading look. “Does sitting at home for the rest of the afternoon sound intriguing to you? It'll be fun, Tommy. We'll be like cowboys on the run.”

*****

Cowboys on the run turned into a thirty minute drive toward an overpriced stay at a lackluster motel just off the highway named Frederico's Sleep n' More. “I don't even wanna know what the more stands for,” Tommy mumbled when they walked into the room.

Evan had intended to use the restroom and return to Tommy all perky and ready for whatever adventure awaited them in whatever town they were in now. But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom he was met with Tommy lying on top of the bed, feet dangling off the edge, not asleep but eyes closed. He looked relaxed, which was a relief, but Buck couldn't help the sadness that overcame him at the sight. This man who drove three hours just to help his parents out for the day being treated like garbage. Almost worse actually, because garbage once served a purpose, and it seemed to them that Tommy never did.

Buck walked to the bed, toeing off his shoes before gently letting his body dip beside Tommy.

Tommy, eyes still closed, laid out his arm. A silent ask for Buck to curl up beside him.

He never had to be asked twice.

Once Buck was tucked into Tommy's side, head resting on his chest, Tommy folded his arm over him. The soft scratches up and down his back had Buck closing his own eyes, humming out a sigh of contentment.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Buck asked. He rested a hand over Tommy's pec, and Tommy brought his free one up to wrap around it.

“Always.”

“Did- When you got hurt, did your mom or dad ever get you things? Like, to try and make you feel better?”

Tommy didn't even have to think about it. “No. My mom would get me a couple things for my birthday and Christmas, usually clothes. And the only thing I remember my dad ever buying me was a football when I was like ten, I think. He got pissed when I accidentally broke our window on a throw, so I didn't mess with it much after that. I did have to do a lot of odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn money for the new window though.”

“Did he...” Buck hesitated, and Tommy squeezed his hand.

“You can ask anything,” Tommy assured him.

“Your mom said he'd hit you sometimes, like when you'd get into trouble. Did he then?”

Tommy stiffened for a moment, and Buck almost regretted asking. “Yeah, he did. The belt was his favorite form of discipline.”

Buck sat up on his elbow so he could look at Tommy. “Even though it was an accident?” He couldn't imagine getting hit as a child, or hitting a child, regardless of whether the act was intentional or incidental.

Tommy squinted his eyes open just enough to see Evan. “Dad always said the best way to never make the same mistake twice was to remember the pain from the first time.”

Buck didn't even know what to say. No matter how distant and neglectful his parents might have been, he was never afraid of them. Never had to worry about being hit. He laid back on the bed, tugging Tommy over to him. They settled into their new positions, Buck with his arms wrapped around Tommy, Tommy with his head on Buck's chest and an arm draped over his waist.

“Do you remember that double wide across the street?” Tommy asked.

“Mhm.”

“Mrs. Thompson lived there when I was growing up. She had three kids, all girls and they were a few years older than me, but she liked me. She'd let me come over and do my homework at her dining room table. Her yard had grass and she'd let me play out back whenever I wanted. And when my dad would get really pissed at me, she'd let me hide out at her place until I saw the light turn off in my parents bedroom. That's how I'd know they were asleep, and I'd sneak back in my own bedroom window.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“No. I'm sure they knew, but they never bothered to act like they cared. My dad did come to Mrs. Thompson's house a couple times looking for me, but she'd always say she hadn't seen me. She'd also tell him to get off her property because his breath was gonna stink up her whole house." Tommy snorted at the memory.

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, “she was. I used to pretend I was her kid. I'd say my name was Tommy Thompson. Thought it sounded better than Kinard. I swore that one day I'd grow up and have a home just like hers. Her girls were always happy, they all laughed together. Her husband worked a lot, but he was nice too. He played guitar and he'd let me sit with his girls and listen while Mrs. Thompson cooked dinner. Their house always smelled so good and clean. I- I wanted that so bad.”

“What happened to them?”

“Mr. Thompson died from a heart attack when I was about thirteen. That was rough, but Mrs. Thompson was so strong through all of it. She died while I was in Iraq; I didn't find out until after I got home. I was devastated. I'm not sure about their daughters.”

“They sounded like wonderful people,” Buck said. “I would have loved to meet them.”

“They would have loved you,” Tommy replied. He was sure of it too. “Anyone with half a brain would love you.”

Buck laughed at that, beginning to run his fingers through Tommy's hair.

The conversation died down there. Tommy never stayed awake very long when his head was getting rubbed. A couple of minutes and he was out like a light.

Buck couldn't sleep though. His heart still ached for Tommy, both present and past.

He was once a boy in desperate need of love. A mom to hug him, a dad to teach him. He didn't get either of those things.

He was a burden. That's all. A burden that neither parent ever really wanted in the first place. A mouth they had to feed, a body they had to clothe, a soul they had to provide for.

He was once a teenager, quiet and reserved. Too smart for his own good. Never congratulated for his accomplishments, never told he'd done a good job. Never guided down a path, but forced in one direction when he didn't make the right choices at seventeen years old.

He was once man who had resigned himself to never having love. Cut himself off to happiness and let anger and hatred bubble up inside of him. Pushed people away because the people he always cared about either didn't care about him or they left him somehow, even if they didn't mean to.

And now he was a man that, despite all of that, held endless love in his own heart. Who Jee called the “best hug giver”, much to Buck's dismay. Who would do anything for his friends, risking his own life without a second thought. Who calmed children at the scene of a four alarm fire when they didn't know if their mom had made it, and stayed with them until they'd all been reunited. Who stayed up all night when Buck was sick with the flu because the only thing that helped his nausea was for his back to be rubbed.

And everything started to make sense. It was clear why Tommy clung to the Buckley's the way he did. Why he was always ready and willing to hop on a helicopter to take Phillip to a game, or make sure Margaret was in town on one specific weekend to go to Carrizo Plain and look at the wildflowers. It made sense that he happily and quickly accepted that the Buckley's were trying, were actually making an effort to be there for their children now, even if was a bit late.

Late was better than never, and Buck had a feeling Tommy's own parents would never be making the effort that his own were.

It didn't make Buck magically forget his own turbulent past with his mom and dad. He'd still feel that twinge of jealousy when they'd laugh a little harder at Tommy's jokes, or listen to his stories a bit more intently. He'd still get a little annoyed at Tommy when he didn't notice.

But he did understand it now, which had been half the battle to begin with.

Carefully, as not to wake Tommy, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to do some research.

*****

Nearly two hours passed before Tommy started to stir. He lifted his head, glaring around the room in confusion until he remembered where he was at. He shifted so he could look at Buck, who was smiling at him softly. Buck loved how Tommy looked when he first woke up. His hair a curly mess, a little drool on his lips, eyelashes fluttering with every blink. And that rough voice when he'd first speak.

“Hi.”

Yeah. Just like that.

“Hi yourself. Get some good rest?”

Tommy nodded, pushing himself off of Buck but remaining by his side. “Mhm.” He rubbed his eyes, and did a little yawn as he stretched. “D'you sleep?”

“No. Had too much fun watching you.”

Buck was pleased by the smile that washed over Tommy's face. “M'hungry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

Buck laughed. “Go freshen up and we'll find someplace for dinner.”

Tommy leaned over, a bringing his fingers just under Buck's chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned cheerfully as they parted. “What was that for?”

“Just love you.”

“I love you too.”

With one final kiss, Tommy got up and headed for the bathroom.

Buck took a screenshot of the website he had up on his phone. A reminder for himself to talk to Tommy about it during dinner. During his research, he'd found they were having a tulip festival outside of Los Angeles in a few weeks, and Buck was sure his mom would like to go.

[undying-lilies]

now that 2 out of the 3 big AM fics are done ... I bring you:

future Adoption Magnet AU plotpoints but ✨out of context✨

so you can, uh ... kinda know what to expect lolol

a chapter called There May Be Angst In This AU, But It’s Secretly A Fix-It Fic

(I am a normal amount of excited for that one)

Kanan accidentally gets a little too much revenge on Cal

what's said in the kitchen stays in the kitchen. even if it's extremely important life-changing information.

the Ahsoka Tano Fan Club lives up to their name

Crosshair does, in fact, become much worse

the Green Team 😌💚

*smacks Reva* this child can fit so much trauma in her

Omega's future boyfriend is a plant dad

Tech stresses over the rising inflated prices of Imperial fuel

Reva continues to have a knife

sniper siblings. enough said

if I had a nickel every time Omega befriended a bounty hunter with Mandalorian armor, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

[zesty-goblin-trash]

Part two of my goblin-self doll update!

Thar be walls of text ahead, ye have been warned.

Right, so. Bods all good to go now. For the head, I actually wanted to try and just fit the new goblin style ears over the original ears on Draculaura's Sculpt. This didn't end up working, but I spent a stupid amount of time trying to make the 3D file of the ears have a cavity that would fit the original ears inside em. It wasn't for nothing though, cause during all that I ended up also adding the holes for the tunnels/plugs and making tiny jewelry to 3D print. It's kinda hard to see em right now since both the ears and the jewelry are made with the clear resin, I think these look much better than my first goblin-self who just had holes drilled out after the fact with slivers of rolled pop cans as the tunnels.

I also adjusted one ear to be more curled into itself because I actually have 2 very distinctly different ears in real life. Kinda ironically the doll that should have exaggerated features has ears that are less noticeably different than I do lmao

Side note that it's actually one of the few features I really like about myself. I should really take a photo while my hair is still short AF to show it 😅 But my right ear is the spitting image of what my dad's ears were, flatter overall and it sticks out more. Where as my left is my mom's, closer to my head with a more pronounced ridge. Fun facts lol

Anyway!

While I was fussing with all that on the computer and during the body dying, I was trying to ever so slightly shrink the dolls head in acetone. I didn't want to actually shrink the head, I just wanted to stiffen up the vinyl. I've seen a number of doll artists shrink the heads of their dolls to make the proportions more normal and it also hardens up the vinyl significantly. I think that this is why I kept having the line between the Apoxie Sculpt and the vinyl on my first head.

I don't think I let the head soak long enough in the end, but I was really worried about the head shrinking significantly. It was hard to tell when to take it out of the acetone/water mix since it swells to twice the normal size while soaking and then as it dries the vinyl shrinks back down. But it felt a bit more resistant to me squishing it so at least there is that?

I've since decided that I'm not going to sculpt the jaw out to be more like my real face. While Draculaura certainly has a much smaller chin than I do, I think that the features are close enough that I'm fine with it. Her nose is different than mine in a way I can't really resculpt anyway, so I'm just going to chalk that up to goblin features!

So now we're pretty much caught up to the current point of progress! The ears have been printed and attached, still using some Apoxie Sculpt to blend the connection in to the head. I also used a very thin layer to cover the holes from the factory hair plugs, creating a nice smooth skull shape! Or so I hope 😅

Since taking those photos I've added a couple of other details with some puffy paint that I hope will create subtle raised parts for piercings and a rather prominent scar on my chest. I've also tried to sculpt the cheeks a little bit by strategically sanding them. I'll have to compare to those photos cause I really dont think it did much. I got the needed layers of MSC sprayed and now she's ready for her base coat of primer and green skin!

Hopefully next time you hear about this doll, she'll be green and getting tattoos!

[rulimaquina]

Something Is No Longer Wrong With My Stepdaughter

Word count: 4981 words.

If you like my writing BUY ME A KO-FI!

I never planned to have kids of my own. The mere topic of getting pregnant was enough to turn any conversation awkward because most people don't understand why my face twists with disgust at the idea. The idea of giving birth didn't make me feel any less disgusted. And I'd suffered enough during my years spent hopping from foster home to foster home when I was a kid and having my birth certificate altered twice so they could pass me as younger in hopes of getting me adopted off before I finally grew out of the system, to know that 'adoption' is, in many cases, just a fancier word for 'child trafficking'. So that was also not an option.

But I love kids. It was the reason why I became a teacher and studied and continue to learn as much as I can to be the best role model I can be for them. Because all kids deserve to have someone to look up to, someone to turn to when they're excited, scared, angry. Someone who will be there for them. After all, kids are what we, the adults, make of them.

Louis was a godsend. I met him during a soccer game one of my students had begged me to go to, where Louis' eleven year old niece also happened to play, and it was the closest I've ever gotten to believing in love at first sight. He was handsome, hardworking —bordering on being a workaholic— and funny. The best part, the part that made me ignore his talk about leaving on work trips that could last weeks at a times, was that he didn't mind that I had gotten my tubes tied fresh out of college, because he already had a daughter and often joked about how she was more than enough for him. The fact he'd finished the sentence with: "Either way, I wouldn't mind. That's women's choice." earned him even more points in my book. We had a relatively short period as boyfriend and girlfriend —a year—, then spent eight months engaged, two of which were spent living together, before we finally got married.

He was just perfect. The kind of perfection that makes us broken people feel like there has to be something really, deeply wrong, because such perfection just cannot exist.

His only flaw was his daughter, Katie.

Katie was a grade A bitch. Not my words. I would have never called or even thought about calling or even thinking about a preadolescent kid as a grade A bitch. At first, to me, Katie was just a shy kid- some would say too shy for a 12 year old kid. But hey, some kids are just introverted and I saw no problem with that, nor did I see any problem with her behavior. Not right away, it took a while for Katie to show her true colors, long enough that when I received warnings from Karen, Louis' sister, I believed that she must have been exaggerating because describing your own niece as a 'grade A bitch' when your brother introduces his, at the time, girlfriend at Thanksgiving dinner isn't exactly normal. Also because she'd started the sentence with "I'm warning you now that you still have a chance to get out." as if a 12 year old girl's behavior could be enough to make me break up with Louis. Honestly, I thought Karen perhaps didn't like me and wanted to scare me out of dating her brother. I even joked with friends that, maybe, she was in love with her brother and didn't want competition, fully believing Katie was just a shy, introverted kid who hadn't yet opened up to the fact her dad was dating. Her name being Karen also played a role in me believing she was being overly dramatic.

But Karen was right and I was so, so wrong.

Katie was truly a grade A bitch. I tried my best to not let that description of her cloud my ability to create an opinion of my own, but there was just no better way to put it. Katie was selfish, rude, entitled and it seemed that the only thing that brought her joy was making others miserable. I should have known. The amount of times Louis had to leave work to go have meetings with the principal should have been the warning, but he never talked about the meetings and I just assumed Katie was being bullied, not that she was the bully. But her cruel behavior didn't just stay at school, she was banned from Karen's house, was never left alone with her cousin who, despite being only a year younger and both taller and heavier than her, was terrified enough of her to apparently be manipulated and terrorized into all sorts of trouble.

I somehow managed to remain oblivious of all that, until after the wedding.

Our carefully planned honeymoon was canceled because Katie faked appendicitis. I say 'faked' and not 'had an appendicitis scare like many girls going through puberty do' because she confessed to me that she'd been faking it, right after hearing me talk to the hotel we'd booked, begging them to understand our situation and be empathetic, only for them to tell me that, no, they couldn't refund us the price of the suite with a sea-view we'd paid for in advance, because the room had been kept empty and they hadn't been able to reach Louis within the 24 hours window to cancel and get a refund, curiously enough, Katie had been playing on his phone all day because hers was 'dead' and she 'needed a distraction from the pain'. It was the first time I saw her smile.

But I didn't complain, because Louis had promised that he could make that money back in no time, that he could refund me my half or we could make up for the missed honeymoon with a family vacation. Both to celebrate our union and to celebrate that, to him, Katie's appendicitis had been 'just a false alarm'.

Of course, I picked the family vacation. Even if it meant spending even more time with Katie than I had to at the hospital.

I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, willing to understand that having to share her father with a woman who wasn't her mother —another grade A bitch, I might add, and without shame because since I'd gotten engaged to Louis eight months ago, she had only spent time with her own daughter twice, and before that, only five times in two years— was something that took time to get used to and this must have been her way of crying out for attention. Until we made it to the vacation house.

It was a nice two stories tall house —Louis called it a cabin, but I wasn't going to call it a cabin because 'cabins in the woods' just don't look like that— in some heavily forested corner of Oregon. The kind of place with windows that cover a whole area of the wall from floor to ceiling on the second floor, and make you feel like you might get Friday the 13th-ed in there. We got there on a humid summer day, a Friday, intending to stay until two Mondays from that day.

The first day, Katie was just too exhausted from the road trip and having to unpack to start anything. Or so I thought.

The whole day had passed so easily, I ended up letting my guard down. We were sitting down for dinner later than usual, and I was putting down the plates with steak. Mine first, because my chair was the one closest to the kitchen door, then, I intended to walk behind Katie to get between her and Louis, and put both their plates down at the same time like in some fancy restaurant. I was planning to fake a french accent and everything, just to see if I could make them both laugh. But my plan was foiled by Katie planting both her hands against the edge of the table and pushing herself, chair and all, away from the table and into me.

Both glass plates crashed to the ground as I stumbled for balance, one hand gripping the back of her chair, accidentally catching her hair between my fingers and the wood, pulling enough that she shrieked.

It should have felt cathartic. But I apologized to her, profusely, right before I got down on my knees and started picking up the shards of glass and the steak. Louis joined me on the floor, smiling at me before he looked up at Katie, his expression hardening and, for once, I thought he was going to actually do something.

"Go get the mop and a bucket, young lady."

That was it. Katie huffed but obliged, and returned with both things, dropping the bucket an inch away from the floor and causing it to splash some water out. Clearly intended for me, though it mostly reached her father. I could tell she noticed because, unlike if more water had reached me, she looked regretful.

"You cooked mine wrong anyway so, no loss," she said, smiling at me.

As Katie made her way back to the kitchen, a smile of satisfaction on her face that I couldn't see but I could feel was there, Louis gave me an apologetic look. Another flaw of his, he just didn't know how to discipline his daughter despite being the adult and her being the child. But I didn't count it as a flaw back then, because I didn't know how to do so either.

Our second day there was better.

I was stuck taking care of Molly, the chocolate-colored toy poodle that Katie often, even that morning, made sure to remind me was not mine, but who I fed, played with, cleaned up after and walked. Even before this vacation. While Katie only picked her up after her grooming appointments to take selfies with and, very rarely, played fetch with when she had friends over at the apartment I'd been sharing with them for two months prior to the wedding.

"I'm tired of this fucking house." at first, I was caught off guard by the fact Katie was speaking to me. It shocked me enough to make me forget Louis had left to go to the store around forty minutes ago, and that the closest town was fifty minutes away. "I'm gonna go outside."

It took me a minute to react. I watched her walk out the back door and left Molly to her food before I moved to the kitchen window that had a great view of the backyard. I opened it.

"Stay in the backyard, you don't know the area!" I told her.

Katie showed me the middle finger over her shoulder, then disappeared past the treeline.

I deflated a little. But Molly butting my leg, demanding more food and greeting me with that cute little face of hers fixed my mood some. I played fetch with her, throwing the ball from the kitchen to the living room, watching her run after it and bring it back only to make me wrestle her for it. I wasn't really paying attention to the passage of time. I got the ball from Molly again and I threw it across the house again, Molly ran after it, but stopped right in front of the wooden back door, every hair in her little body standing on end as her ears pressed back against her head, teeth bared as she growled. Then, she ran and hid under the couch.

The door opened.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach and my world spin when I laid my eyes on Katie. Her jeans and blouse were dirty and torn, she looked like she'd rolled around in the mud and at the same time, like someone or something had tried to rip her clothes off her. But her body seemed pristine, not a scratch or bruise or even a speck of dirt on her skin, the high ponytail her long blond hair was pulled into was a bit crooked but, other than that, it looked the same as when she'd left. She stared at me, but looked as if she was staring right through me.

"I fell," Katie spoke, realizing I needed some sort of explanation, fast. But only giving me the most emotionless and short explanation.

She fell? She just fell?

I scrambled to my feet and stepped forward, not daring to touch her at first. Then, I dropped to my knees in front of her, my hands moved to feel the inside of her thighs for any wetness, any blood, as she just stared down at me with that thousand yards look in her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, her eyes finally focused on me, moving slowly as if she was studying my face carefully.

"What happened?" I asked her, my voice more of a plea for her to tell me than a question.

"I told you," she said, just as emotionless as the first time. "I fell."

I stood up and reached for her shoulder. Without really meaning to, but needing proof that she was actually there and wasn't just an apparition while the real Katie was lying dead in some tree, having been attacked by an animal or taken advantage of by some sick bastard because I had too little of a spine to make her listen to me, I squeezed. She just stared at me. Then, as if she realized she was supposed to feel pain because she'd just told me she'd fallen, she winced.

"That hurts," there was just barely a hint of emotion in her tone. The kind of 'that hurts' that you voice when you get a drop of hot water on your hand while cooking, not the kind you voice when you've fallen in the woods hard enough to walk back home with torn clothes.

I didn't know what to do. I called Louis, I called the rangers. They both arrived at around the same time, with the park rangers car parking in our driveway just before Louis did. He must have broken some kind of record, and all speed laws known to man, considering the park rangers building was way closer than the town the store he'd driven to was located in.

The rangers came prepared. One of them had medical training while the other kept asking me questions. I insisted that something more than a fall had to have happened, and they agreed, but with no injuries, no signs that she'd been hurt other than the state of her clothes, and no word from Katie other than that she'd fallen while taking a walk through the woods and come back home right after, there wasn't really anything they could do other than go outside with Louis and check the surroundings for a little over two hours, before concluding that there was no sign of people nor any animal that could have caused that, only Katie's footprints going to and from the woods.

Afterwards, Katie had been… strange.

I blamed it on the shock of whatever had happened to her, but deep down I knew there was something else going on. Katie hadn't ever come in contact with me, aside from that first time we'd been introduced to each other and we shook hands. Any other time I tried to initiate any kind of physical attention: a gentle squeeze, a playful poke, or even as much as brushing my hand against her by accident, she moved away as if my touch burned her. If Louis wasn't looking, she'd pair her actions with a look of disgust that would indicate I'd touched her with a shit-stained stick instead of my very clean hand. Now, she became my shadow.

She sat by my side on the couch, cuddling against my side. She followed me into the kitchen and insisted on helping me cook dinner, which I had to guide her through like she had never done or before, which didn't surprise me because- well, she was spoiled and I wouldn't have put it past Louis to never teach his daughter how to cook. Since the night before's dinner had been impossible to enjoy and Louis hadn't been able to get more groceries with his quickly he'd returned in his panic of something happening to his daughter, I just decided to recycle the idea of making steak, which Katie seemed really happy with. She watched me open another package of four steaks, and put it in the microwave so that they would unstick from each other. I could have sworn I watched her mouth water when I pulled them out after five minutes and there were droplets of blood dripping from them when I got them with the fork to get them off the plastic container.

When it came time to turn them around in the oven, Katie was hovering behind me, staring over my shoulder.

"Can we eat them like that?" she asked me.

Her tone was gentle, hesitant and polite in a way that made me flinch because I fully expected this to be some sort of trap. I even looked down at her hands to make sure she wasn't folding anything that could be used to prank me or hurt me. That was the level of paranoia this child's behavior had reduced me to. But her hands were empty aside from a cloth I'd been using to clean some blood off the counter and I'd asked her to hold it for me while I checked our food. She was squeezing and twisting it almost nervously.

"You like your steak rare?" I asked her. Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted in confusion. "That's when it's juicy and red on the inside."

"Oh," she said, her tone suddenly monotonous. "Yeah, I like it like that."

I nodded, thinking to myself that, well, that was weird. But I would take this kind of weird behavior ten times over her usual angry-at-the-world behavior.

The next day, we all went to town. Even Molly came along, because Katie insisted on bringing her with us. It'd been an odd night, but slowly, Molly seemed to begin warming up to Katie again, enough to let her be the one holding the leash. I blamed the previous growling and hiding on the fact seeing Katie the way she'd returned from the woods had probably scared the soul out of Molly, or that perhaps she could smell some wild animal on Katie that made her wary of her. But that didn't matter. How could it matter when Katie walked ahead of Louis and I, trotting to make Molly run and bark, her fluffy tail wagging a mile per second.

We made it to the store and each of us went their own way, agreeing to meet back at the front to pay in fifteen minutes, while Molly stayed outside, tied to the bicycles rack.

As I made my way from hall to hall, I noticed Katie in the hall with all the hair products. She was holding a box of hair dye. It didn't surprise me, since I'd already seen her dye her hair different colors a few times. She had the hair for that, honey blond and healthy from her five products routine. What made me let out a punched-out gasp as I approached, however, was the fact that she was holding a brunette dye box, staring intensely at it and, upon realizing I was there with her, holding it up beside my hair.

"Do you think it's the same color?" she asked me.

Hesitantly, I took the box from her hand while grabbing a strand of my own hair with the other, comparing the color shown on the box with my own. Then, I looked up at Katie.

"I think mine is just a shade darker," I said, handing the box back.

Katie nodded, returned the box to its previous spot, even made sure that it was perfectly straight. Then, she looked for a darker shade and grabbed it. She looked at it, then at me, and she smiled a smile I could only describe as tense and unused.

"It's this one," she said. "Can you dye my hair when we get back?"

This time, I managed to hold back the punched-out gasp that threatened to leave me. I smiled a crooked smile, torn between shock and joy that this was actually happening, Katie wanted to spend time with me. "Of course I can!" I said, wincing at me own excitement because this felt unreal, felt like any moment now she was going to start cackling, mock me for falling for her prank. But, instead, Katie hooked her arm with mine, and walked with me around the store grabbing things, holding onto her hair dye box until it was time to pay and I had to tell her to hand it back.

I never heard so many compliments about how pretty my curls were and how shiny my hair was as I did on the ride back to the house. Katie complimented me enough to make Louis feel like he had to, too, but his "I love when you have it loose like today." didn't compare with Katie's "Your hair is soft like cotton."

It was nice. But I still sort of expected the other shoe to drop. I made sure that Katie told me she wanted me to dye her hair the same color as mine and that it'd been her idea out of nowhere to do so, twice, in front of her father once we made it to the house, before I even made my way with her to the bathroom to actually do it, because I wasn't going to risk her claiming that I'd forced her or anything of that sort once it was done and there was no turning back. Once it was done, she stared at herself in the mirror, awestruck, and made me stand beside her, her expression growing even more joyful as we stood side by side with our now identically-colored hair. I even offered to get a curler and try my hand at giving her curls that looked like mine, but Katie very politely told me she just loved the color.

That day had been so perfect, I didn't even have it in me to get mad at Louis when he got a call early in the morning the next day telling him he had to go back home because something at work had gone wrong and nobody but him could sort the problem out. I just smiled and told him we'd be waiting for him, even after he told me that he'd be gone until Thursday night.

Louis left after lunch. I just resigned myself to having Katie go back to her old self the moment his car sped away from the driveway. I even walked back to the living room with fearful, hesitant steps, only to find her sitting on the carpet in front of the couch, Molly curled up on her lap, her tail wagging lazily as Katie petted her. Katie turned her eyes from the weather broadcast to me, smiling.

"It's going to rain tonight," she told me. "We could watch a movie."

That's how we ended up cuddling- yes, cuddling on the couch, a blanket over both of us, Molly lying over the blanket on Katie's lap, and a now empty bowl of popcorn on mine. Rain poured outside, but there was no thunder, just the howling of the wind and the crashing of water against glass and the wood of the porches.

Then, there was a much heavier, louder crash on the back porch.

We both tensed. Molly whined and shifted in Katie's lap, even barked, and Molly rarely barked. Something was wrong. I moved to stand and Katie's hand seized my arm, her features twisted into a fearful expression.

"Don't go," she whined.

I rested my hand over hers. It took me a minute to pry her fingers from my arm, the feeling of her grip lingered even as I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Stay here," I told her.

I moved the blanket off myself and petted Molly to try and calm her, before I slowly made my way towards the door. I peeked out through the peephole just as something heavy and human slammed against the door.

Katie stood outside, soaked to the bone. Her hair was a mess, knotty and dirty like she hadn't combed or washed it in days, her arms and legs were covered in scratches and bruises, some deep enough to bleed, she had a wild look in her eyes, looking back over her shoulder towards the woods with frantic glances, never ceasing her knocking on the door, her clothes were different from what she'd worn that day when she left the house to go for a walk, it looked like some kind of leather I couldn't recognize if I didn't open the door.

I pressed my forehead to the door and closed my eyes, feeling each vibration all the way to the bone as her fists frantically banged against the outside of the wooden surface.

"Dad, are you there?!" she cried out. "Let me in. They're going to find me! Dad!"

"I told you to stay in the backyard."

A couple seconds of shocked silence passed, then. "Teresa?" she asked. The little shit sounded almost surprised I was there, when this is my house too. "Teresa, what the hell are you waiting for?! Open the fucking door!"

"You should have fucking listened to me, you disrespectful little brat!" I spoke, louder, harsher than I'd ever dared speak to her before. I was tired of being the enabler and receiving only disrespect in return. "Now you're going to learn!"

Then came the insults. Being called an envious cunt, among many other nasty words that no twelve year old should be using with anyone, but much less with her father's spouse who had up until now been trying her best. It made it easier to turn my back to the door, eyes still shut as I took a deep breath, reminding myself it wouldn't be right to tell a child that this 'envious cunt' made her daddy's toes curl at night.

I looked towards the living room and there was Katie on the couch, where I'd left her. Her body remained facing towards the paused television, but her head was tilted as far as she could to the side, staring directly at me through the corner of her eye. Her face seemed to have paled, shoulders tense and eye wide like she'd been caught looking through my closet, but also like an animal ready to attack. Like a cornered rat, the thought popped in my head and, honestly, it was fitting. This was the most genuine emotion I'd seen on her face since she'd walked in with her clothes torn and dirty, but otherwise unscathed.

The microwave went off. The popcorn was ready.

I walked towards the kitchen slowly, holding my hands behind my back to let the Katie on the couch see them at all times. I poured all the popcorn into two bowls and added butter and salt to mine, ketchup and sugar to Katie's. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end and, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, I glanced towards the microwave door and saw the reflection of Katie peeking into the kitchen, staring right at me with that same 'busted child and cornered rat hybrid' look on her face. When I turned to face that direction, losing sight of her for perhaps half a second, she wasn't there. I walked back into the living room with one bowl in each hand, ignoring the banging on the door and the voice that had changed her strategy from insults to desperate pleas, and found Katie on the couch again, in the exact same position as when I'd left her.

"Remind me to add ketchup to the list of things I need your dad to buy on his way back," I hummed as I sat back by her side, resting the bowls on my lap, hers in front of mine, closer to my knees. "We don't want to run out or we'll have to find you a different snack for movie nights."

I grabbed the remote, swung one arm over the back of the couch and watched her flinch at my closeness. I didn't touch her, choosing to instead give her time to initiate contact on her own. After all, some kids are fidgety when they feel like they might be in trouble, especially kids like my Katie, always trying so hard to be the perfect child and make me happy, but not socially aware enough to tell that my previous upset had been directed at the rude little shit at the door, not at her.

It took a minute, but she finally returned to her previous position leaning against my side, and I wrapped my arm around her, tracing gentle shapes against the smooth, hairless flesh of her arm. There was hair growing there, I could feel it now.

The screams got loud and more desperate before they finally stopped and I was able to unpause the movie.

"I love you, mama," Katie said from where her head rested against my chest, one of her hands pressed flat over my belly, fingers sprawled out as if she wanted to feel as much of me as possible, as if she loved me so much she couldn't get enough of me.

"I love you too sweetie."

[charkyzombicorn]

So theses are apparently some of the selkies powers, I’m pretty sure this is just for dnd and is not mythological accurate . But out of these powers which would you choose for your selkie au to be Selkie abilities?

Enhanced agility: Selkies are able to go fro one movement to another effortlessly, allowing them to effectively dodge attacks, do backflips, and numerous other gymnastic, martial, and athletic implements with little to no effort.

Enhanced balance: Selkies have an extremely well-developed sense of balance, the positioning of limbs in space, center of balance. and the physical condition to use these facts.

Enhanced bite: Selkies, due to their fangs, have a powerful bite.

Enhanced dexterity: Selkies are able to control their limbs, muscles, and digits extremely well.

Enhanced endurance: Selkies are able to survive with little to no energy for an extended amount of time.

Enhanced reflexes: Selkies have extremely enhanced reaction speed, allowing them to dodge magical attacks, catch falling objects, and react instantaneously to what would take others more time to react.

Enhanced stamina: Selkies are able to be physically active for longer periods of time than most other beings.

Enhanced strength: Selkies are able to exert a great amount of strength from their muscles.

Night vision: Selkies are able to see perfectly in total darkness.

Speed swimming: Selkies are able to swim at incredible speeds, unhampered by water resistance.

Cold immunity: Selkies, being adapted to the ocean, are completely immune to cold.

Pressure resistance: Selkies, being adapted to the ocean, are completely resistant to water pressure, especially at the bottom of the episode.

Water sense: Selkies are able to perceive the movement of/on a body of water with extreme accuracy, and determine where threats are located in aquatic environments and water sources.

Siren song: Selkies, similar to merfolk and cecaelia, are able to sing a song that is capable of hypnotizing anyone that hears it.

Sonic singing: Selkies, similar to merfolk and cecaelia, are able to sing a highly destructive blast of sound at high amplitude.

Water manipulation: Selkies are able to generate, shape, and manipulate water.

Aquatic life communication: Selkies are able to telepathically communicate with aquatic creatures.

1) 2)

3) Usopp doesn't like the idea of biting people because it makes him feel animal-like and he hates being compared to an animal because He Is Not. Also the nose makes it hard for him to bite people I would imagine. His molars are a little sharper than they maybe should be and he's got pronounced canines but he doesn't have the coral-shaped molars seals (apparently) have. His dad does tho, Buggy too but Buggy shaved his down a bit to hide better in the East Blue

4) yeah he's good at a quick draw but he still trips and stumbles sometimes on land. He's much more graceful in water because there is nothing to trip over

5) About as much as Canon, with is quite a bit.

6) His reflexes are pretty quick because his eyes are better than a human's, it doesn't mean he's perfectly co-ordinated and just because he can see something coming doesn't mean he can dodge without tripping. He gets a bit more graceful post-ts but he grew up without fighting, so he's learning as he goes

7) Yeah he's got more stamina than you would expect, but that's pretty much just canon

8) Stronger than you would think unless you tried picking him up. He can change his appearance but he can't change his weight and seals are 4000 pounds. He's very physically dense, even if he looks like the skinniest 17 year old you've ever seen, so picking up 300 pounds to him is like a normal person picking up 12 pounds he's not athletic pre-ts tho so no picking up twice his body weight or anything. The 1 ton hammer could have been real tho.

9) He does have really good night-vision, he does use his tinted goggles more because seal-eyes are more dilated than humans' and if it's too sunny it hurts his eyes

10) Yep! He can swim just as fast if not faster than most mer-folk

11) 12) He is a bit less resistant to cold and pressure than most selkies because his mother was human. He can stand pressure changes but he needs to take breaks and he can stand cold but can still get hurt when he's frozen.

13) He does have some extra spacial awareness in water, this is just how most selkies naturally pick up observation haki a bit more intuitively

14) Usopp has no idea, he only sings for Luffy but Luffy seems pretty hypnotized so,,,

15) Nope, and Usopp screams a lot

16) No

17) He convinced some of the crew he can, he can't actually

[goddessofroyalty]

Because we seem to be talking about Zaun Family Benzo and Silco tonight take the part of the ‘Silco trying to get Claggor out of him’ fic that’s Benzo’s POV.

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg

-----------------

“See you’re still pregnant,” Benzo says when Silco makes his way down from his ‘office’ to where Benzo and Vander have taken over one of the booths of the bar to pass the time before it opens for the night.

The fact the ‘mega hasn’t been able to sneak up on them for months now is nice. You can normally spot him before he’s behind you, slowly waddling around with his pup-full stomach.

“What was your first clue?” Silco asks dryly, one hand bracing his back while the other supports his protruding stomach.

Benzo ain’t ever gonna be a huge fan of Vander’s mate but even he has to feel a little sorry for him. The pup was clearly Vander’s by size alone and Silcos stomach looked twice the size of the ‘mega himself. The fact Silco has looked miserably uncomfortable for weeks now but still kept at his and Vander’s work towards their goals a testament to just how stubborn and tough of a bastard he was.

“Can’t be much longer though right?” Sure as hell wasn’t any more room in there for the pup to grow. And if Silco’s stomach got any bigger the ‘mega wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without overbalancing from it. And Benzo doesn’t know how his back’s still working from all that extra weight it’s got to be supporting.

Vander winces at the comment and Benzo just knows he said the wrong thing.

“They were supposed to be out a week ago,” Silco snaps.

“Taking over their dad then,” Benzo says with a nod to Vander who looks every part the guilty party for the situation. “He’s not one to leave once you have a good thing going either.”

The fact Vander’s stuck around with his mate evidence of that. Silco’s good at what he does and has dragged them out of poverty by sheen tenacity alone, helping ensure Vander would get his bar and then deciding freeing Zaun would be his next goal. And Vander’s clearly happy with the amount of affection he’s getting never looking for it elsewhere, plus the obvious fact Silco’s about to give him a pup. But Benzo doesn’t know many alphas who would actually be able to handle Silco as a mate – his mood caustic most of the time.    

Vander snorts at Benzo’s comment but Silco just glares. Undeserved in Benzo’s mind seeing he was just trying to make a joke.

“I don’t see how it can be all that good in there anymore.”

“You’d think they must be cramped in what little space they got in there,” Benzo agrees.

“Anything we can do for now?” Vander asks. Not that Benzo knows why he’s been included in the offer. But then again if he could do anything to make Silco a bit more comfortable he probably would. Even if just to get him in a less bitchy mood.

“I’m going for a walk to see if that will dislodge them. Can you join me or should I get someone else?” Silco asks.

There ain’t no way he’d go on a walk on his own in his current state. While most in Zaun like them well enough they had made their share of enemies while setting up all their businesses. As vicious as Silco was he’s still a heavily pregnant ‘mega and that was too easy of a target to risk it.

Vander looks at the clock his expression mournful.

“Got to open the bar up in about 15,” Vander says and Silco’s expression immediately sours.

Fuck it.

“I can open the bar, go take your mate for a walk.” Wouldn’t be the first time Benzo’s taken over the place for a little ‘cause somethings come up. Normally a bit more important than for Vander to take a walk for his mate but Benzo’ll make an exception this time.

Especially considering the hint of gratitude he thinks he catches in Silco’s expression at it.

“I owe you one,” Vander says as he gets up. His hands going to support Silco’s back as he stands at this mate’s side.

Benzo just waves him off with his drink.

“You can watch my shop for me the next time I need to do something.” He knows Vander would anyway. These little favors nothing after how long they’ve known each other.

Vander gives a nod before heading off with Silco at the slow waddling pace that was as fast as the ‘mega could go currently.

Benzo does truly hope the pup of theirs decides to make their waited upon entrance to the world. Can’t be good for either Silco or them for them to still be in him this long.

When Silco sulks down to their home beneath the bar instead up to the room he’s turned into his office and Vander takes back over without comment Benzo figures the walk didn’t achieve its intended goal.

[fizzyxcustard]

15 Questions and 15 Tags

(Which is technically untrue as I'm not going to tag anyone in this. If you read this post, consider yourself tagged and welcome to join in)

Thanks for the tag, @glassgulls @mismaeve and @sotwk <3 Thank you for thinking of me and allowing me to join in. <3

1. Nickname: Jay, Fizzy, JJ

2. Height: 5''3

3. Sign: Aries

4. Last Google Search: I honestly cannot remember. Probably a random actor because I'd seen them in a film and wanted to know who they are.

5. Song Stuck in my Head: "Hold It Together" by Mike Shinoda

6. Number of Followers: 3,241 (How?)

7. Amount of Sleep: Anywhere between 7 and 9 hours normally.

8. Dream Job: Writer or full time crafter.

9. Wearing: Bambi pyjama bottoms, FRIENDS jumper and grey vest top.

10: Movie/Book that Summarizes You: The Hobbit. I'm literally a little person who loves my home comforts (and food!) but can easily be seduced off onto adventures half way around the world; I say that but I was the one who talked my dad into going to New Zealand (from the UK) twice! And I love writing in my books, documenting everything.

11: Aesthetic: Cottagecore, dark academia, animals, shabby chic

12: Favorite Authors: J R R Tolkien, Stephen King, Jodi Picoult, Roald Dahl (he's a kids author I know, but I've loved him for years), Beatrix Potter (another class children's author).

13: Favorite Song: 'Lift' by Poets of the Fall. It's one song that upon first hearing it, I literally felt like I was flying to the moon; it was such an eargasm. I had goosebumps. And I've adored the song ever since.

14: Favorite Instrument: Drums. Love a good thrash.

15: Random Fact: I still live in the family home that my parents began renting over 40 years ago, and the property now belongs to me.

As said above, this post is open to anyone! So please do play along if you'd like to. I'm not tagging anyone specifically.

[voidze]

normally i don't comment directly on other folks' posts but i felt the need to here.

my dad was also very much like that. back in the day, they called it "locked-in syndrome". 'cause you understand and process everything coming in just fine, but in his case as well, he became quadriplegic, so he essentially had no way to communicate back. couldn't move his limbs or hands or nothin.

now to put a long and complicated story short, my dad had some major strokes and it rendered several portions of his brain pretty much... dead? like, back then everything about what happened to him was incredible, but even up to his death ~2 years ago doctors would marvel at his condition. they'd show us scans of his brain where there were big black portions. those were the parts that didn't work anymore.

but the other parts of his brain took over and he was able to keep on living! and oh my god i could write a book about the way my dad was infantilized and straight-up abused by medical professionals over the years. not an exaggeration in the slightest btw. 30 years of that shit.

now when this first all went down, my mom had to fucking fight to keep him alive and convince the doctors he's still in there. mom started with making him blink once, twice, not at all in order to answer questions. doctors dismissed this as reflexes at first. but she kept fighting, and showing them, until they listened.

fun fact: one of these doctors literally told my mom it would be too expensive to keep my dad alive and to just let him die. dad outlived this doctor :)

my mom was his uncompensated primary caregiver for those 30 years btw. we had people come in and help, absolutely, but mom did most of it, and she did it all without pay. and my siblings and i also did it too of course, but when we old enough, we each were employed through a company so we could scrape together a little bit of money.

furthermore, the reason why mom was an uncompensated caregiver and my siblings were not, is because my mom is a nurse. and where we live, there is a law that if you are a registered nurse, you're literally not allowed to receive any kind of compensation for doing what my mom did.

another fun fact: in the usa disabled people are kept poor. you're literally not allowed to make a certain (paltry) amount of money, you're legally allowed to be paid less than minimum wage, oh and also we don't have marriage equality. i can't marry either of my partners or i may never get (again, paltry) benefits from the government.

when i was like 12 mom had to sit me down and have a talk with how her and dad might have to get divorced so that we can keep living with dad and taking care of him. she told me it's not because they didn't love each other, but because of the way things out of their hands worked, they might have to do that. they thankfully never had to divorce, and dad actually died litrally like 2 weeks before their 50th anniversary. (ask mom, she has it down to the second. not even joking. she also felt his last heartbeat. but that's another story.)

anyway. so for all those 30 years, literally my entire life, it was like this. folks would go up to dad and bend down and talk to him real loud and slow, or ignore him and talk about him to my mom/etc. right in front of him. it's fucking bullshit. it's ableist bullshit. and i want you to know that. it's bullshit and you got every right to put people in their place and tell them to knock that shit off.

like i said i could write a book about dad's experiences in just those 30 years of his life. they would lay him flat on beds in the hospital with no guardrail - positioning that was extremely bad for him, plus if he coughed he could fall out of bed. ask us how we know!!! one time a nurse roughly grabbed his stomach and stabbed it with a needle. he didn't say anything. my sister witnessed it and was like "dad, did that hurt?" and he said it did. then the nurse freaked out like "i didn't know he could feel!"

on his deathbed a terrible doctor told us that he never understood any of us and that every conversation we ever had with him in those 30 years were just reflexes (even when he spoke in full clear sentences) and he was just a vegetable. and she proceeded to do a few procedures on him without consent that we also specifically told her not to do beforehand, and he aspirated, he got sicker, it hastened his death. god help her if she ever is unlucky enough to cross my path.

i'm sorry this is lengthy and all over the place but it struck a chord with me immediately. i know how hard it is to be in that kind of position, and how little help you get from anyone else. i want you to know that your family's got every right to tell doctors and shit to fucking listen, and it's terrible that any of us have to do that to begin with, but god, i want people to know. i want people to know no matter their age or disability no one else has the right to tell them their life is worth less than anyone else's, or that they don't deserve care, or don't deserve to be treated like a fucking person.

uhh also op if you wanna talk more about this kinda thing or something, my inbox is open.

My grandfather has a brain thing right now that makes it hard for him to talk in more than one word sentences but he can understand people just fine and lately it’s been kinda pissing me off how many healthcare providers talk to him like he’s five years old. Like he can understand you. He can answer yes or no questions. We just told you that. You don’t have to talk about him to me like he’s not here.

[leaving-anorexia-behind]

19/09/24

TW

I've been in an eating disorders unit in London for 17 days now. The first week I really struggled to comply with my meal plan. I ate half the starter plan (around the same as what I'd been having before) and lost a further kg. I found it strangely tolerable, most likely since I was eating the amount I could tolerate at the time, I also had my stash of sweeteners in a hairbrush in my room and went to the garden (twice).

On the fourth day, I was asked by my new consultant psychiatrist to come with her to the clinic room. I sat on the bed waiting. She looked concerned and told me my lithium levels were too high, I wasn't too fussed, I was sure that could be amended. Only she went through symptom after symptom. The only ones I had weren't related to it (dizziness and chest pain to which I'd been experiencing for some time so wasn't worried about anyway).

So asked how I was getting on with my meal plan, to which I said I was struggling. She got to the point quickly and asked if I'd consider the NG. I said I couldn't since it had gone so wrong before and didn't want it to happen again. She nodded and we spoke about my physical health as she was saying I was very unwell and at such a low body weight. I told her I was ok and was probably wasting a bed here. So, she told me that normally she gives longer but she needed to apply for a mental health act assessment as my physical health was too unstable.

I felt sad and frustrated, but in a way I had already had a feeling it may be suggested. I saw my dad that afternoon, where I got a cherry pepsi max and we caught up with each others week before I went to the garden for my second supervised sit down on a bench with another patient. The OT came over and said she'd do an assessment with on Monday, to which I said I probably wouldn't be there for (I was planning to self- discharge the next morning prior to the MHA assessment).

I thought nothing more of it when my psychiatrist came knocking at my door with a member of staff, a mixture of concern and irritation on her face. She said she had just received a call from the OT saying I was going to abscond (I never said that) right before she was about to go home. I explained I was going to pack my things that night and self-discharge the following day as I wasn't using my bed well and didn't feel I needed to be there. Again, she spoke about how physically compromised I was and combined with my lithium levels I was very unwell.

With that, she said she wanted me on 1:1, I reminded her I was a voluntary patient and had the right to refuse that. She agreed, then put me on a section 52 (holding section) as well as stuck me on a 1:1. That was not the response I thought she would have. I had hoped she would have been irritated enough to tell me to just leave and I could have gone. It clearly didn't work out that way!

The following day, just before lunch I was called into the MDT room where two people were waiting (a man and a woman) the man, Seb introduced himself as an AMHP and the lady was the psychiatrist. They were there for a MHA assessment and I inwardly groaned. It didn't last too long, they asked a few questions, before saying how my consultant psych feels I'm at high risk of cardiac arrest among other life threatening complications as a result of "severe" anorexia and very low body weight, especially combined with high lithium levels. Not to mention the fact I wanted to leave.

They went on to say I had a severe lack of insight to the severity of my anorexia and placed me on the dreaded section 3. They didn't even ask me to leave the room so they could discuss, just straight onto a section 3 there and then.

Since then it's been a very testing time. I've managed to mostly avoid the NG, only having it once last week which was enough to cause flashbacks and dissociation. I've gained 1.6kg in 1 week and completely panicked. I can feel the weight gain already and I absolutely hate it.

[purplesurveys]

1634

What colour is the photo frame closest to you? Purple. It’s this one:

Are your pets asleep right now, if you have any? They probably are napping downstairs, yes.

Would you have any idea what your parents are doing right now? My mom is either watching a documentary or scrolling through her Facebook in the other room. I would guess my dad is asleep but will be waking up in a bit to prepare for work.

How many windows (roughly) does your house have? Idk man. Somewhere around 20. Each room has 3-4 windows.

Do you have a good relationship with your cousins? I can’t possibly be close with all of my cousins because Filipino families are monstrously (is this even a word?) large – but I do have good relationships with at least my first cousins, and to some extent my second cousins. There are first cousins I like a little less due to differing political opinions, but for the most part I’m able to keep it civil and just try to be the Responsible and Kind Big Sister/Cousin for everyone lol.

What was the last kids movie you saw? Toy Story but I wasn’t able to finish it; I largely turned it on for background noise at the time.

Do you know anyone who was born in Africa? Nope. 

Have you ever been to an internet cafe? Yeah, of course. As a kid I used to sneak into internet cafés to check on my Friendster account that I had to keep secret LOL (my parents were very strict about the “You need to be 16 and above to create an account” rule of Friendster), then these days I still go to a café if I need to get something printed.

Are there any upcoming events for you to look forward to? Jimin’s album this month, my birthday next month, then we’re going to Thailand in June! We’re going to shoot for Yoongi tickets at the Bangkok shows, but we booked the flight in advance just so we can also get a vacation out of it, whether we manage to secure concert tickets or not.

Has the year gone quickly for you so far? I feel like it has gone by a normal amount. January took forever to end, but February went by like a breeze. It’s too early to tell.

How many siblings does your significant other have? I don’t have one.

Are you one of those people who can drink vodka straight? Tried a shot of pure Absolut once, honestly wouldn’t do it again. If I had to have a shot, tequila is a lot more manageable for me.

Have you ever done three or more shots in a row? Man. Three shots in a row just sounds like you’re asking for death. Hahaha no. I like to space out my shots, but this is also considering the fact that my tolerance is shit.

Do you share a middle name with any of your friends? Not exactly the same spelling, but I have a handful of friends with different variations of the name. It’s a fairly popular middle name.

What was the last movie you saw in theatres? BTS in Busan, if that counts as a movie? Anyway they had a theatrical screening for it and I watched it twice, so. Are you interested in international politics? Maybe just facets of it, but I don’t keep up as much as I do with Philippine politics. Like I used to give a big fuck about Donald Trump’s presidency just because I felt like racism was inherently linked to his administration (and as an Asian, that...just doesn’t bode well for me and my family lol). Things like that.

How many pairs of jeans do you own? I have around 15 bottoms but out of those around 3 are jeans.

When was the last time you showered? Last night.

Do you know the name of the pharmacist at your local drug store? No. What was the first cellphone you had and how old were you when you got it? I got a Nokia 3310 for my 7th birthday.

Do you use public transport in your town or city? Nope. The public transport here is shit, so I learned how to drive so I can avoid the long queues and inconvenient commute. It’s definitely privilege at work and I’m well aware of it, and am just grateful I’m in a position where my parents can pay for my driving lessons and provide me a car. I would love for commuting to be an option for me someday, but something has to be done about improving the system first. Until then, I’ll do what’s personally convenient.

Have your parents ever worked in a factory? No, neither of them have.

Do you have several best friends? I have two.

How many lights are in the room you’re in? One, just the lamp at my work desk. Is there a Hard Rock Cafe in your town or city? Not around here, no.

Do you eat fast food more than once a week? Yes, my mom usually brings home some fast food for us when she drives home from work.

What flavour is your toothpaste? It’s just a generic minty taste.

Have you ever shared a shower or bath with someone as an adult? Yeah.

When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Last Octoberish.

Are you sleepy right now? Nah. I took a long nap this afternoon so I’m pretty awake right now haha.

How big is your backyard? It’s a moderate size. It’s enough to fit a couple of cars and my dad to play basketball when he has the time, so it’s very comfortable.

Do you know anyone with Tourette’s Syndrome? No, not personally.

What time does your alarm wake you up in the morning? I never set an alarm as I’m able to wake up on my own in time for work. Alarm ringtones stress me out for the most part, too.

What was the last zoo you visited? I try to avoid zoos as much as I can, but back in like 2018 we did go to this ecopark in Bohol where there were tarsiers and a few other animals I believe.

Do you like crime films and tv shows? Not if it’s about fictional crime. I prefer documentaries that break down the facts of an actual crime. Take Buzzfeed’s Unsolved and its technical 'spin-off,’ Ghost Files – Ryan and Shane are a fantastic duo at narrating crimes.

When you shop, do you take a basket or a cart (trolley)? Usually a cart.

Have you ever tasted milk straight from the cow? No, but I’d love to try it once!

What’s your favourite sleeping position? On my side.

What colour is the bra you’re wearing? Not wearing one at the moment. Have you ever seen A Clockwork Orange? Yes, it’s one of my favorites. There’s one scene I do prefer to skip every time it comes on but for the most part, that movie is a fascinating level of fucked up that I can’t help but enjoy.

Are you bitter about anything? Reena is being a big, inconvenient pain in the ass about our Thailand trip, and always seems to be on the verge of jeopardizing the plans we’ve made. This morning she spoke up in the group chat saying how she feels like she has had little input so far on the flight and Airbnb we’ve booked, and it’s taken every ounce of self-control in me not to tell her that the probable reasons she feels that way are 1) she hasn’t even asked permission from her parents yet, and 2) she doesn’t even have a fucking passport.

Do you like to make games out of chores to make them more enjoyable? Not really? I feel like that’s the kind of stuff you do for a kid to make chores more enjoyable for them, lol. Anyway, I do pick out a playlist or a video to play in the background just so that the work doesn’t feel so monotonous.

How many letters are in your best friend’s surname? Both of them have 7, come to think of it.

Is there anything in your possession that probably shouldn’t be? I recently found a top buried deep in my closet that actually came from my ex, so I panicked for like 5 seconds when I found it LOL but immediately threw it out also, so we’re good.

What is your favourite flavour of yoghurt? Never liked yogurt.

What was the first online account you remember having? Apart from a Yahoo email account, Friendster.

Do you listen to music to fall asleep? Nah. I either pick a video to watch or scroll through Reddit until my eyelids start getting super droopy.

Where did you go last time you left your town or city? I went to Makati last Wednesday to meet a client and to go to an event we had to help manage.

Do you use emojis? Yeah, I tend to use them often when talking to friends or posting a status on social media.

Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer? I considered it very briefly in college because I thought it’d be cool to follow in my great-grandfather’s footsteps, but all the horror stories about law school profs routinely terrorizing and humiliating students turned me off from it. My heart was never in law anyway so I had no problem detaching.

What percentage of battery does your phone currently have? 100%.

What was the last type of soda you drank? Probably a Sprite? Idk I hate soda for the most part but take rare exceptions for Sprite since it tastes on the milder side for me.

How far away from your house is your favourite place to shop for clothes? It’s around a 20-minute drive away.

Do you have supplies handy right now to draw something if I told you to? Not in my room but I can easily ask my sister for some pens and markers and such, so yeah sure!

Have you ever been married? Nopes.

What does your deodorant smell like? It’s a faint papaya scent.

Is your bedroom more messy or clean at the moment? It’s neat.

Do you use Twitter? Yeah, it’s my main way to get updated on all things BTS. I had a stan account like two years ago but hated how cliquish everyone was being, so I went back to my personal and just stay updated from there without the pressure of having to be active per se in the fandom. Are you any good at baking cakes and cookies from scratch? Not at all. I’ve tried baking cookies in the past but they always turned out bland at best, and my heart wasn’t in it enough to want to improve.

Is there a floor lamp in your bedroom? Not a floor lamp but I do have a desk lamp on my work table that I like to keep on 24/7 even if it’s already naturally bright. I feel uneasy when it’s off, so. What does most of your weekly or fortnightly income go towards? Food, tbh.

Have you ever been to another continent? No, just around Asia so far.

Do you have any hidden piercings? (this includes bellybuttons) Nope.

What month is your birthday? April.

What can you hear right now? A vlog of Cong’s.

[bearsprings]

I posted 6,066 times in 2022

That's 2,985 more posts than 2021!

72 posts created (1%)

5,994 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hiveswap

@meeowerzz

@toesuckler

@cosm-ixx

@timedeo

I tagged 3,043 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#wc - 651 posts

#dsmp - 297 posts

#warrior cats - 198 posts

#fav - 179 posts

#grian - 144 posts

#hc - 134 posts

#dream smp - 118 posts

#wilbur soot - 107 posts

#ranboo - 92 posts

#tommyinnit - 88 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#gotta love that leafpool was literally the only female pov character w/ she-cat friends that weren't just her sister

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I already love Flamepaw. So much. His relationship with Baypaw and Lilyheart is just. chefs kiss, amazing, i love it so much.

We're getting some grandparent and grandkit content!! And the fact that he genuinely seems to see Baypaw as his brother.

asdfghjklkjhgdsa

And his relationship with Sparkpelt seems painfully relatable (minus the dead dad part, rip Larksong lol)

Prologue and first 3 chapters of River

51 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

#4

nice hair king

51 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

#3

just finished river

5 out of 5 gold doubloons, will be rereading later

anyways vomiting some thoughts

dont have much to say about sunbeam, defiantly the least interesting pov imo. blazefire is pretty cool, kinda hate his name tho

sunbeam and nightheart just hanging at the gathering before his third assessment and them just taking turns venting and sunbeam reassuring him that he was gonna pass was really nice :)

mf really failed his assessment twice lmao

lilyheart is so lovely <3333

the part with beetleheart being like "join the xenophobic dark side my lovely daughter <3" was interesting, excited to see were that goes

nightheart is so stupid and dumb and in dire need of love and attention. i jusrahfebdghfjfg

squirrelflight felt so ooc what the fuck. and?? crow and bramble never had a 'bond'???? they mildly disliked eachother for the entirety of tnp and then never spoke again.

i hope bramblestar is dying lol

not everyone collectively screaming when nightheart said he didnt like the name flameheart. love your new name queen <333

your telling me shellfur and fernstripe are in a relationship?? shellfur, son of the xenophobic power couple that is blossomfall and thornclaw, former avid supporter of imposter bramblestar, has a relationship with a windclan cat??? that just. feels. so weird.

fringewhisker and spireclaw, however, are going to live happily ever after and nothing bad will ever happen to them or i will cry :)

that five second long scene of jayfeather deciding to mildly annoy mothwing and kestralwing is just. perfect.

'eaten any good voles lately?' had my giggling a Normal Amount.

rip those old people btw

might read mistystar's omen to grasp at some mothwing and mistystar content, mothwing mourning for about five minutes was very enjoyable to read

riverclan really just ran to all the clans and went "has our deputy been trespassing on your territory? no? ahahahaha alright thx bby 🥰"

riverclan is in shambles and i love it

the way that starclan (if its starclan?? feels real unstarclanlike rn) communicates with frostpaw is so cool. i imagine this is kinda what starclan was like for medicine cats in the first arc, very much enjoying it

curlfeather :(((((

the "keep riverclan safe, and trust no cat" and the description of curlfeather screaming in agony as the dogs practically ate her was. Mildly Horrifying.

god is already destroying frostpaws mental health bit by bit, poor lady is so stressed :(

107 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

#2

2/3 OF OUR MAIN PROTAGONISTS FOR A STARLESS CLAN ARE FATHERLESS AND FLAMEPAW HAS MAJOR MOMMY ISSUES. I FIND THIS FAR TO FUNNY.

153 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

dude i love mothwing but i just. fucking hate how shes boiled down to "gay little medicine cat" bc she is. so interesting!!!!! her relationship with her brother, with mistyfoot, with her mother and the fact that shes part of the tigerstar bloodline, with the god that she believes abandoned her, how strange it must have been to watch willowshine grow up worshipping that god, to have everyone around her shame her for not believing in something that does not care for her or anyone that shares her blood, if hawkfrost is any indication. she is just........ ajdfhefihifl interesting kitty cat that is honestly more interesting if you look past her whole thing with leafpool .

609 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[izzysarchivedblogs]

HIS EYES FOLLOW TONY'S. Sees him register what Clint's put on and he knows that this kind of bad no-science conspiracy trash would go absolutely against any of Tony's sensibilities. He grins, but than is aware that Tony is actively putting his attention onto Clint.

Considering the amount of times that man has said he's PROUD of him, whether in words or the way he was looking at him said enough. Maybe he should instate a PROUD OF YOU quota on Tony because if he kept going and he start to gain traction upward, there would be a lot more of THAT. The fact Tony's looking at him and not succumbing to the fallacies of the Ancient Aliens guy only proves that.

He hadn't even thought that bringing up his mom was that big of a deal, but that he's never really done that. He's never stated anything about her, not much to anyone because he had never thought it mattered. Even though, it's a part of him that made him up. There's people, who he's worked with for years, that only knows that he was an ex-carnie because of the fact that he would mention his skills come from that. People who don't know that his parents died when he was seven, that he didn't join the circus until he was eleven; that there was four years where when from the orphanage to another abusive home.

People may have only known his father was an alcoholic because he'd mentioned when he recognized the behavior in others, like calling out Tony once or twice. Clint find himself guilty about too. YET STILL CLINT'S THE MOST OPEN LOOKING CLOSED BOOK.

Right now, he feels a little too raw yet he's sharing because there's something about hot dog in mac and cheese that made him just think of his mom, of Edith. He actually didn't know too much about her beyond what memories and what Barney told him.

❝ Yeah, I don't know, sometimes I think she didn't know what to do with us but she'd leave me a bowl of mac and cheese with hot dogs in it. ❞ Sometimes the food almost felt like an apology because neither of them had any control against Harold's abuses, and she was just trying her best. ❝ I think mom- Edith didn't know how to cook much, but boxes of mac and cheese and meat from Harold's butcher shop would be easy. ❞

He snorts as Tony says he'd have to go to London for his comfort food, but he gets what he means with that. ❝ I can't help you on that; I hate baking. ❞ That does imply that he would have tried to do something about that, scones and tea.

IF YOU'RE EVER A DAD. That's a loaded statement for Clint, but that's not something he think he will ever go into. He thinks he'd have missed the chance in life. One shot. ❝ Probably, it's pretty soft food for kids with growing teeth. ⸻⸺ Actually, maybe that was my first food. ❞

That's one of those things that's missing, knowing these details about himself. Having a less than ideal or normal childhood. Than there's the fact that he'd say I think when it came to Edith, because he doesn't know as much about his mother besides she was married to Harold and was his mother.

Clint shrugs his shoulders, finishes eating from his bowl and moves toward to put the bowl down than leans back, shuffles himself closer to Tony. He thinks that he is just raw enough, feeling just good enough, that he'd keep talking or answer questions if asked. Overwhelmed, but crying had brought him back to below his limit.

Tony glances at the TV when Clint starts looking at some show called Ancient Aliens and he's already sure it's going to bug him. He's heard of it in passing, and he's fairly sure that it's where that meme comes from. This was going to be torture. Apparently Clint came home from a meeting and specifically wanted to torture Tony.

Tony's attention isn't on the show though. He's completely captivated by Clint. There had been times in the past that Clint had gotten all braggy about learning how to do things as a carny. If he managed to perfect the perfect back flip onto a plank, he'd follow it up with the announcement that he learned that move in his old carnie days.

He'd never really spoke about the time before that. There were things they'd talked about when they were both just trauma dumping, but that was rare. Tony had always liked letting people know how shitty his childhood was. Clint seemed to like to bury that as deep inside him as he could.

But as little as Clint had spoken about the shitty stuff, he spoke about the good stuff even less. Tony had heard just about nothing about Clint mom. And when he spoke about Barney there was sometimes things that sounded good, but often it was just in relation to the drinking and the abuse.

Tony smiled as he listened and he reached over and rested a hand on Clint's leg. "I love that. It's great you have something so simple that is such a strong positive thing. Jarvis made me scones and tea. Now I have to go to England if I want comfort food."

He laughed and shook his head. "If you're ever a dad, I bet that's what you end up feeding your kids."

[fixatedonfandom]

Mask Off

[I have a tf2 prompt I wanted to write but I don't have enough of them to make a prompt compilation so I figured I'd just write it here and hope everything goes well. I did the absolute most on the French so pls fix it if it's wrong]

BTW I HAVE SURGICALLY GRAFTED HUMAN EMOTIONS INTO EACH OF THE MERCS IN MY FICS SO THAT'S WHY THEY'RE 'like that' (normal). I have grafted double the amount of emotions into Spy as a treat.

Synop: Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea.

~~~

"Hold his arms! Now!" Medic snapped, not knowing nor caring who listened. Demoman had been hovering near the bed, and latched onto Scout's wrists to pin him down before the thrashing began.

Scout was feverish, slurring out something incomprehensible, almost as angry as he was frightened, and was pushing up against Demoman’s hands with every ounce of fight he possessed. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing, and nothing the Medic said or did could bring them around to focus.

”What’s now, doc?” Demoman barked. As Scout bucked against him, Demo laid down right on top of him, using his chest to keep Scout on the mattress.

Medic did not speak; he grabbed one of Scout’s arms and held it fast against the bed, then slapped the strap of a soft restraint around his wrist and yanked it tight. Demo fumbled for the one on the other side and did the same, and moved to Scout’s legs to keep him still. All the while, Scout was yelling out nonsense, interspersed with things that sounded like pleas.

“Jus-no, ge-get off! Get off me! Leave, no, please-” 

”You’re a’right, lad! You’re a’right, it’s Demo!” said Demo, with heaving breaths. “Demo? Scout, lad-”

“Ge-get- fuck- let-let me go!” Scout gasped in turn. His thrashing rattled the bed, only then being kept in place by the wheel locks, and he was straining his arms against the restraints hard enough to leave a bruise.

Medic was frazzled, composed as he may have looked. He’d almost made the decision to lunge for a syringe of sedative when Scout began to calm, by nothing but him exhausting himself, until his head lolled to the side and all that remained of the fit was mumbling and an occasional spasm.

Demo backed away from the bed, swiping a large hand down his face and clearing the accumulation of sweat from the rim of his eyepatch. “Tha’s a worse one. Didn’t say nothin’ compr’ensible.”

“Least he kept his hands to himself,” the Engineer cut in. He’d been sitting by Scout’s bedside in a creaky metal chair, and had one hand thumbing through a book of known ailments, and the other nursing a cold-compress- one of the few Medic could spare, given the circumstances -to a blossoming bruise on his jawbone.

When push came to shove, as it often did, Scout had a mean left-hook. He was so scrawny-looking that it was easy to forget.

“Not tha’ we gave ‘im much choice,” Demoman sighed. “I feel for th’lad. Cannae imagine wha’ he’s seein’. Wee lad’s prolly thinkin’ he’s fightin’ off ghoulies ‘n ‘his own personal hell.”

“That will be all, Demoman,” Medic sighed over him and ran his fingers, ungloved, through his hair. His black hair was dull, limp, and greasy-looking, and as unkempt as the man who wore it. Both had gone at least two days without a proper wash.

“Aye,” acquiesced Demoman, and picked up another ailments book to flip through with Engineer. Medic would have been doing the same if not for Scout needing spontaneous care. The Engineer and Demoman had offered to help him, overwhelmed as he was with keeping Scout’s fever down through the past two days and trying to find the source of the illness, and stayed in the infirmary with Medic.

Each RED team mercenary displayed his concern for Scout’s wellbeing in his own way.

Heavy had been one of Medic's assistants for the first day, but stepped away when the look of Scout in the throes of fever became too much for him. Too many memories, and none of them good. He spent his time researching for the doctor, much like Engineer and Demo. He'd also made a sandvich for when Scout wakes with an appetite, just in case.

Engineer and Demo needed to be useful, and stepped up on the first day to help. Engineer had no head for medicine and a piss-poor bedside manner, but he could read and research better than most anyone. He turned up to the lab, grabbed an armful of medical textbooks, dropped himself down in the chair besides Scout's bed, and remained there for two days straight. Demoman could comfort- he was a touchy-feely guy, and he was strong. When Scout first awoke two days into the fever and started fighting, Demo appointed himself to Scout's bedside to catch him when he flailed.

Soldier wasn't much for medicine work, and he hated the infirmary, but he became the one that everyone relied on for routine since theirs was so disrupted. He enforced breakfast and dinner like a drill sergeant, bringing food when Medic couldn't leave. In the absence of anyone else to talk to, he'd managed to clean the base spotless too.

Pyro drew pictures, and sent them in like clockwork. Doodles of the team, filled with colors, smiling scenery, and a healthy, happy Scout in the middle of each one. He didn't come by to visit. Knowing what Scout was acting like, he knew he might be too scary for him.

Sniper did what he did best- he kept his distance. Once or twice he came around to visit, but saw how overwhelmed everyone one was stayed out of the way. Somehow, though, the coffee pot in the kitchen never emptied, no matter how many cups were taken out of it, and the dishes were cleaned despite no one sticking around the kitchen long enough to do them.

Spy was different. To the outside eye his concern, if any, hadn’t manifested at all. He still smoked his cigarettes as though he had only a day left to live, and still holed himself up in invisible corners around the compound, only appearing when least desired. If RED were not a team, one could think him heartless and detached. 

They were, however, a team, and even the least observant among them had seen the signs of stress he carried. Spy’s aura was tense, and he carried himself with more urgency, when he was ever seen. If he was not in his smoking room, he was in the infirmary, watching, an unlit cigarette bitten between his teeth to satisfy the fixation but not disturb Scout’s breathing with smog. In the times between Scout’s waking bouts, he would step aside with Medic and ask questions regarding Scout’s health in hushed tones, like hiding his fears from prying ears. 

It was then, when Scout had settled into fitful sleep again, that Spy melted out of the shadow of the infirmary wall to approach Medic from behind, with his usual inquiries.

“Finally utilizing those restraints, I see,” Spy remarked, equally delicate and ironic. “How is the boy today?”

“Worse. Only getting worse,” replied Medic in a rough tone. He’d turned to his shelves of medicines and concoctions, shifting through the bottles and making them clink together. “Verdammt, where is it?”

Spy came around him and looked over Medic’s shoulder. “What are you looking for, my friend?”

“Fever reducer. I tried to give him one earlier.” Medic picked a bottle, read the German label, and set it behind him on his desk. “He spat it out.”

“Not surprised.”

“It was too weak, anyway,” Medic said. He paused in his rummaging to glance back at Spy, perhaps to see if he was listening. “I was a trauma surgeon. I have not treated sickness in many, many years.”

Spy’s cigarette had turned into soggy, unpleasant paper mache in his mouth, and the tobacco leaves had fallen out onto his tongue in bitter mush. He put the old cigarette in the bin near Medic’s desk, then pulled himself another.

“I hope you have some idea of what this illness could be, yes?” Spy ventured as he put the cig between his teeth. Medic sighed and did not meet his eyes, just shaking his head and whispering something. “Then how do you possibly plan to treat him?”

"I...I don't know. Verdammt, I do not know!" Medic admitted like he was spitting out a tooth. He clutched the sides of the cabinet doors, and the wood creaked under his hands. "He will not take fluids, he will not eat. If I cannot get him to calm down I will have to sedate him until he's not at the immediate risk of death. That alone poses its risks, but I would rather those than...this."

Spy glanced over his shoulder to trail his eyes down Scout's body, quivering and sweat-soaked, as he fitted in his sleep. "What kind of risks?" he asked.

Medic collected his thoughts and sighed again, a forceful huff through his nose, then replied, "Delirium. Worse than this. If his breathing continues to get worse he will have to be ventilated, which doubles the risks of prolonged sedation. Depending on how he processes the sedatives it could take him several days, maybe weeks, to recover. This is all assuming that I can fix him while he's unconscious, without having to resort to more intrusive methods."

Spy shifted his stance, his hands itching for the lighter in his coat pocket. He resisted it, naturally, but the urge was biting at the tips of his fingers.

"How would you suppose we get him to calm down, hm?" Spy asked.

"He does not recognize anyone or anything. If I could bring his fever down enough for him to regain some lucidity, that would help," Medic said. "As it stands, unless we can present him with something familiar, he will refuse to cooperate. Something his mind will recognize intrinsically, as confused as he is. He believes we are the enemy."

Spy hummed as his response, pretending to be distracted, and hesitated to consider the idea that had begun to brew in his head. "His mother, perhaps?"

Medic shook his head. "Nein. Not realistic. Even if we could get her to the state in a timely manner, by the time she’s gotten through the company's bureaucratic hoops to set foot on base, he might not be lucid enough for it to make any sort of difference. If I allow him to get to that point I may not be able to restore him."

“And if he does get to that point?”

Medic hesitated. He was given no chance to respond.

"Doc! Lad's comin' round."

They both turned. Demo was leaning over Scout's bed, hands primed to grab Scout's arms should he start thrashing again, and Scout was rousing slowly, turning his head, furrowing his face as he came to a no-doubt painful consciousness. 

“We have tried Respawn, and he came out just as sick as before. Respawn cannot save him,” Medic whispered to him, then turned once more to his shelves with his back to his patient.

“No…no, l-let me…s-stop,” Scout moaned out, already pressing up against his restraints and Demoman’s grip.

“Lad- lad, c’mon, stop- stop it!” Demo hissed back, straining to keep Scout on the bed while taking care not to frighten him with shouting. Demo tensed, with gritted teeth, as Scout started to cry.

“Pleas…please, please…l-let m’go… get- let me go!”

“No no no- aye, lad, c’mon. C’mon it’s me. It’s me, it’s Demo, lad.” Demoman leaned in close to Scout’s face. Scout reeled away as far as his head could press into the mattress, chest and shoulders still wracked with suppressed sobs. Even unconscious, Scout couldn’t let anyone see him cry.

“P-P-Papa,” Scout hiccuped. It could’ve almost been any other word, as slurred and warbled as it sounded, but to Spy’s ears it came as clear as the ringing of a church bell.

Spy’s thoughts left through his lips before he stopped to consider them properly.

"Everyone barring the doctor, please step outside," Spy announced. He approached Scout's bed, shooing Demo aside. "Now, would be ideal."

Demo stayed put with stubbornness and clear hesitation, and Engineer looked up to him confused. Medic fixed Spy with a curious look, but said nothing against him.

"Er, doc-"

"You heard the man." Medic was fixing another cold compress, distracted. "It seems Herr Spy will be taking over, Herr Demoman. Everyone, out!"

Scout winced, whimpering on the bed. Demo stepped back slowly and released Scout, though keeping his hand extended, but Spy shooed him again and he made for the door with the Engineer. Neither looked convinced they should leave, but did regardless, and Spy and Medic were the only lucid ones left in the infirmary.

"I should hope you have reason for disposing of my assistants-" began Medic, then cut off by Spy.

"I would prefer this be observed by as few as possible, doctor," said Spy. He slid off his leather gloves and set them on the metal side-table. "Should this even work."

At that moment Scout's eyes opened, glassy and damp, to the ceiling. Spy put his bare hand on Scout's forehead, expecting the flinch that came.

"No, no! Get...g-get off'me! J-Just-!" 

In a single, fluid swipe, Spy tugged his mask off of his head, and brought his face into Scout's line of sight before the struggling could begin. His salt-and-pepper hair was tousled and untidy, though obviously well-groomed, and his olive-toned jaw had a deep shadow indicating days of neglect. He startled Medic badly enough that Medic fumbled with the medicine cup and sent it splattering across the tile, but neither paid it much notice.

"Sois calme, mon lapin," Spy whispered in the most delicate voice he could use. "Sois calme."

Scout froze taut, staring wide-eyed at nothing but the ceiling tiles. Medic watched him, wrapping his prepared compress in a thick towel, and waited.

"P..." Scout murmured, unfocused. His eyes scanned the lines of Spy's face, sluggish, and a dull recognition lit up behind them. "Papa?"

Relief sent Spy slumping over the bed, closer to Scout, and he ran his hand through Scout’s sweat-damp, greasy brown hair. "Oui. I am here, Jeremy. I am here."

Scout said nothing, but his left hand tugged up against his restraints. He seemed surprised when his hand wouldn't move.

"Wh-wh’s…” Spy saw the panic building, and rubbed Scout’s scalp again.

“You are very sick, mon trésor,” Spy explained in simple words. His unoccupied hand made quick work of the soft restraints, and they fell from Scout’s arms to dangle off the sides of the bed. “You are with the doctor. He will take care of you.”

“Oh…” Scout whispered. Scout’s eyes trailed around the room, slow and stuttery, until they found Medic, still standing frozen by his desk. Like melting ice, clarity emerged through Scout’s bleariness, and it manifested in a single word as Scout whispered, “M...Med…?”

It snapped Medic out of the trance he’d fallen into, and he scrambled to put together another cup of medicine and bring it over with his wrapped cold-compress. For a moment he and Spy locked eyes, and Spy recalled that Medic hadn’t seen his face in the years since his initial physical. Politely, Medic didn’t stare. 

“Herr Scout,” Medic uttered, allowing Scout to get his bearings before lifting Scout’s hand and having him hold the small cup. “Drink this.”

“Wh-”

“Fever reducer,” said Medic before Scout attempted to stumble through a question. Distractedly, he placed the compress alongside Spy's gloves on the table, appearing to forget about it. “I will bring you something to ease your sleep, if you will take it this time. And water. You may also need…” Medic trailed off and wandered to his shelves again, muttering under his breath all of the things he could have Scout take while he was conscious.

Spy moved his hand to support Scout’s and helped him guide it to his lips. “Drink this, lapin. You will feel better.”

He could see the hesitance screwing up on Scout’s face, and trusted Scout’s reflexes were too sluggish to resist when he poured it into Scout’s mouth.

“Swallow, Jeremy. Swallow, s’il te plaît.” Spy put his hand over Scout’s mouth when Scout tried to spit it out, foul though it may have been. He kept his hand until he felt Scout swallow. "Ah, Très bien, mon chou.”

“Has he spit it out again?” Medic returned with a glass of water in one hand.

“Non, he’s swallowed it.” Spy swept the sweat from Scout’s forehead. “Water, please?”

“He’s swallowed it?” Medic’s voice held a relief so palpable it was almost suspended in the air. He passed the glass into Spy’s hand. “Truly?”

“Yes.” Spy let silence fall between them and guided the water into Scout’s limp hand, then tilted his head back for him to drink. He took to the water much more readily than the medicine. Once it touched his lips he began to swallow like a man on the verge of death, and Spy had to pull the glass away twice so he wouldn’t choke. “Pace yourself, mon chou.”

“I have not been able to get him to drink anything in days. I would allow him some desperation,” Medic said. He’d removed his glasses, rubbing out the smudges on the edge of his vest. “I do not know how long you’ll wish to stay, but if I may-”

“I’ll stay until the boy can take a drink on his own,” Spy spoke over him, though only giving Medic half of his attention. “Perhaps after, if more problems arise.”

Scout blinked slowly, like a barn owl, and each blink after that was heavier than the last. It didn’t take long for Scout’s eyes to fall shut and for his breathing, though still labored, to come in even strokes. Spy let his hand rest upon the boy’s cheek, and a long-dead warmth that Spy had not experienced in decades washed over him like a baptism.

“This time, mon lapin,” whispered Spy, stroked Scout’s cheekbone, and pulled his hand away.

“Hm?” That was Medic, somewhere by his desk.

“This time,” Spy repeated. “I would like to stay for him.”

~~~

Also I did not edit this so...lol

tanks for reading :)