#does everyone go nah lets all be lazy and then no one has to do any work every time

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for trying to get my disabled coworker fired?

I know it sounds bad which is exactly why I’m asking. Please give it a read-through before voting though.

I (18M) work a food service job. One of my coworkers, L (20sF), is deaf, which can make working with her harder than other coworkers. I don’t mind this, and have taught myself some ASL to communicate with her when phones aren’t available.

However, in my half a year of working here, I’ve noticed that she has bad habits compared to every other coworker I have. For example, L comes in late nearly every day. I wouldn’t mind it if it was only by a few minutes, but she regularly comes in over 20 minutes late, and on occasion, being over 40 minutes late. Being the only other person who works mornings in my position, this makes my job harder because I have no clue when I’ll have someone to help me. It’s especially bad during morning rushes, in which I have to do almost everything by myself.

She regularly lies in order to get off as well. At one point, she told everyone in the store she was sick. We let her go for the day, but 30 minutes after she left, she posted about going to a party on her Facebook account. There are other incidents, but this is one of the clearer ones.

There have also been incidents in which she messes up food. Bad. At one point, she poisoned a customer by putting something they were allergic to in their order. It wasn’t even a thing that normally came on the food, so I couldn’t chalk it up to a really unfortunate mistake.

When L does prep work, her stuff usually turns out super poorly as well. With the dough she makes, it’s always so thin that someone has to go back and add flour to it. With the in house sweet cream we make, it’s always unmixed at the bottom. And just a few days ago, the chicken salad she made turned out fucking pink. A coworker got sick giving it the benefit of the doubt and trying some.

L’s also, frankly, really unpleasant to be around. She’s incredibly bossy, which is rich for how lazy she can be. If you’re around her when there’s nothing going on, you’ll hearing about all of her personal drama. Complete with private messages between her and her boyfriend of the week, messages with her doctor with way to much detail about her sex life, and at one point, photos of a dead dog she had run over that morning. All completely unprompted.

She’s also been hitting on me and another coworker recently. I have repeatedly stated I have no interest in romance in general, and the other coworker is taken.

L continues to do these things, despite everyone telling her otherwise. Even when the manager or boss get onto her, she’ll only change for a bit and then go back to her old habits.

The reason I’m asking if I’d be the asshole is because I know it’s hard to get a job while disabled in this country. And L’s been at this job for 3 years somehow. I know that doesn’t excuse a lot of things, but I still have trouble knowing that someone could be going without money they need.

There’s so much more I could get into here, but I already fear that this is too much.

So TLDR: I’m considering pushing for my deaf coworker to get fired because she regularly shows up really late, endangers customers, and makes everyone uncomfortable.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[dhiings]

𖦹 Going Seventeen - The Guest Who Left Secretly (EP. 89)

"Huh? I could take it off now?", Jane said while taking her blindfold off. "This is not some kind of horror concept, right?", She continue to ask right after seeing the staff in front of her.

Today's Going Seventeen Concept is ....

"No one must know that I left” Goal = Leave their assigned individual space by going through the shared space. Then, they must get on one of the cars parked outside of the studio. If nobody calls them for 5 minutes.. they get to go home. The countdown will starts as soon as the car starts driving. ⚠️ However ⚠️ • If they went out of the individual space and run into another member, they must return to their individual space. • If the members think someone has left, they could ask the staff "Please call(Member name)" to recall a member and to be brought back. If five minutes have passed since they left or if they haven't left their room, nothing will happen.

[ROUND 1]

While waiting for 20 minutes, she starts to get bored. She has an abrupt idea to take a look of the situation from the above by climbing and standing up from a chair. At the same time, he caught Scoups doing the same thing as her. She just pointed him out with her fingers, the same too with Scoups. Both of them laugh silently.

Scoups mouthed to her to get down, "Get down from the chair, be careful or you're going to fall".

When she got down from her chair, she spotted a blank notebook and a marker. "Woah, there's paper... hm, what should i write in it~", She said and getting distracted from the goal right away.

Having an individual space that is located far away from the door to get out, located beside Jun's and Joshua's, making her to seemingly gives up faster. The shared space started to get noisier, "Woah, I guess they have started to try to escape", talking to the camera.

"Should i escape too?", Jane starts to think about it

"Nah, too lazy", She then proceeds to do whatever she does on the paper.

On the other side, Scoups is the first one to succeed in escaping. When he got inside the car, he starts to worry that the members will find out. "Please don't look for me guys. You usually don't anyway, so don't start now", he mumbled.

"They don't normally look for me, Except Jane, she always notices when i'm away. Please, just this one time", he quickly added.

On the same time, captured a peaceful Jane who's still working on.. whatever she's drawing now on her paper, we had no idea.

"They are so noisy. I might just go out and check the outside world now", She said standing up from the floor.

When she opened the door, she caught Jun catching Joshua who's trying to escape. "Joshua Hong", Jun said. Making Joshua laugh. "Moon Junhui", Jane added. All of them starts to laugh. All of them went back to their individual space.. well not exactly everyone.

Then, she hears Jun catching Joshua again, she quickly went outside just to said, "again?", and laugh in Joshua's face.

"Jane?", someone shouted her name.

"Yes?", she answered. No answer, just silence. "Who's that? It sounded like Joshua...", she mumbled to herself.

Being curious of the current shared space situation, she slowly open the door to take a peek. Joshua, DK, Dino, Jun, and Hoshi are standing in front of their doors. "Mingyu, what are you doing?", seeing clueless Mingyu walk out of the door not knowing everyone are looking at him.

Mingyu stared down at the floor, chuckling, and going back to his individual space.

"If we keep standing here like this and talking in front of the doors, no one can leave", Hoshi said.

"Yeah, let's go back inside"

"Yes, no one will be able to leave"

"Sure, let's go back inside and i'll watch in here so none of you can leave", Jane said.

"Eih... no"

"No, you can't do that"

"Let's go back on the count of three, if there's someone that won't go back is a stupid ones", DK uttered his idea.

To say Jane were shocked would be an understatement.

"oKaY! FINE! One, two, three", Jane tries to go back inside but caught Hoshi, Jun, Joshua, DK, and Dino do not leave.

"AHA! You guys are stupid", she sticks out her tongue and closes her door.

~silence, no sounds of the members laugh or argument is in the air~

"Jun oppa!", Jane suddenly shout his name.

"Yes?", he delightly answer her. "Nevermind hihi", she. tricked. him.

Jane continue playing with the domino set she got from the staff. "What? Scoups is done? Woah, what a betrayer, he doesn't even tell me", she quickly went outside.

"Where? Where are you going jein ?", Hoshi quickly ask her seeing she starts to sprint across.

"Ya! Jane, you're caught!", Joshua added.

"I'm just going to go to Scoups for a minute!", she quickly answered, and shuts the door. She had no idea that the cameraman follows her too.

She finally meet scoups who's standing right in front of the door wanting to return his mic. "Why you leaving so fast huh!", Jane lightly punched Scoups. He just laughed.

"I just got lucky, i guess", Scoups finally answered.

"You no fun. Give me tips on secretly leaving, will you?", Jane plead.

"Just make you own strategy! Go.. go inside", Scoups said while pushing her to go inside the building.

When she comeback inside and open the shared space's door, she was stunned by her older members doing. "Why are you all doing butt dance!", she protested.

"Jane!", Wonwoo shouted out of nowhere.

"hUh? Why?", he answered.

"Can you please open up my door?", He continued.

Jane quickly laughed and open his door.

"Thanks jagi~!", he quickly opened the door and greet Jane who's in front of him.

"Jane! Open mine too, please!!", Hoshi pleads.

"It's okay it's okay, i'll open it", Joshua interfered.

Jane goes back to her own place.

"2.. 1... time's up"

[ROUND 2]

"Oh-", Jane startled by the sudden presence of joshua entering her individual space.

"What're you doing?", laughing seeing Joshua's confused face.

"Oh! Sorry, ah~ where's my room?", he then closes her door

Jane slowly step out of her room to grab foods to eat. She encounter several member trying to leave, but all of them are caught by her. All she does is smile at them, and they just automatically go back to their space.

"Oh! Hao oppa, try that, so goood!!", she points out on one of the food displayed in the shared space.

She then walk straight to her space and starts eating.

"Hello everyone, so i have tteokkochi, some chicken, and pizza!! I think i bring too many chicken, do you want some?", asking the staff in front of her.

"It's oaky, just take it. I will be too full if i finished these by myself"

"Oh, i also have orange juice here~ I don't really like americano hihi"

She then starts munching on her foods.

After awhile, the shared space gone silence...

She takes her chance and start running towards the car.

"Woah, let's go. Let's start the timer", putting on her seatbelts.

"Wait, how many minutes should we wait? 5? woah", talking to the staff.

She then open her phone to check how many time has passed. But, she accidentally open the Camera app, making her chuckle.

"I look so ugly, my hair is flying everywhere. Why don't you tell me?", complaining to the cameraman.

"I hope they don't notice me when i'm gone. I guarantee you, they will not notice it. I don't really talk that much, so.. i guess they think i'm playing by myself, hopefully", staring at the camera.

On the other side..

"Where's Jane?", Wonwoo ask Woozi in the shared space.

"I think she's inside playing and eating alone. I saw her just a minute ago tho, she said she's re-stocking her food supply. Then, grabs piles of pizza. Went straight back to her room", Wonwoo laughing hearing that.

"Okay, little bit time more then it's going to be the next ro-"

"OH! JANE?!", Hoshi shouts.

"Hi guys~ I'm back~~", Jane happily skipping her footsteps.

Some of the members went out of their individual space to catch a sight of her.

"Oh my gosh! All this time, you were gone?!", Vernon said.

"Hehe, yup", She's smiling from ear to ear.

"What a sneaky move, good job", Wonwoo patting her head while helping her to remove her mic.

She went back to her individual space to get her stuff back. She also said thank you and good bye to the staffs there.

"Bye guys!! Stay strong and good luck!!", leaving the set.

Jane, the 3rd person who succeed in today's mission.

[THE END]

hehe, hi guys. it feels such a long time for me since i write something. truthfully, i have lots of things in my drafts.. but i can't upload it yet cuz it's only half way AND i feel like i can't write anything gooddd aaaa!!

hope you guys like itt, see u with my another writings!

#𓇼 svt-jane's #kpop female oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen imagine #seventeen female member #seventeen x svt! reader #seventeen added member #seventeen female oc #seventeen x oc

[dovahkinniez]

You're resurfacing my old Skyrim crushes omg 😳

I'd absolutely love to read any nsfw you have for Brynjolf, alphabet or otherwise, but do not feel pressured at all !!!

` 𖤓 . . . NSFW ALPHABET: BRYNJOLF.

Omfg, I'm glad. That's the aim, let everyone be obsessed with their skyrim favs. <333 for the amount of love I have for Brynjolf I never seem to write him. So I'm excited for this.

Most likely wont proofread - im lazy xoxo. If there's any mistakes, just tell me and I'll change it.

18+ only!! Sexual content ahead, minors dni!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He isn't a young man, he's lived a life before you and over the years he's learnt the art of aftercare. He's loving, gentle, tender, all the things you wouldn't expect him go be due to his occupation and reputation. He's especially more caring towards you as he loves you, he gives you everything you want and more.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: his mouth. It's skilled, it makes you feel good and it allows him to say things that makes your toes curl with excitement, so naturally he likes his mouth due to what it does to you.

You: ass. I see him as an ass man. Loves to lay his head on it, grab it, smack it. Everything and more.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Likes to cum inside you. Likes to fuck it deeper too as he tells you to take it like a good little pet, and you do. Obviously!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's usually dominant but he's has multiple fantasies of you domming him, and being pretty mean about it too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot. As I said, he isn't young. He knows what he's doing. His fingers aren't just good at picking pockets. ;)

He's good and he knows it, he can be quite smug about it at times but it makes it hotter tbh.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Doggy, reverse cowgirl, anything where he can see your ass and take a good grab at it. This man loves to smack it until its red, watch it bounce as he slams his cock back in you. Yeah, any position he can see your ass.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Eh, nah. I don't think he's that goofy. He isn't exactly serious but he isn't a comedian in bed either. If something funny happens you both laugh and then continue like it didn't happen.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's a hairy man. Like body hair, yes. I'd say he wouldn't leave it until it's like a literal forest but he doesn't take much thought on it tbh. He's got better things to do than worry about something as natural as hair. He views it the same way with you, you could have longer leg hair than he and he still wouldn't care.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's more intimate during the aftercare part, and during foreplay if he's feeling sentimental. In general he just likes to rail you, as he should.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it, but not too much. He has you, he doesn't feel the need and it's not like he's always horny anyway.

When he does he likes to watch you, loves when you masturbate with him, makes him feel closer to you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Degradation: his voice is like literal honey and if you thought praise sounded hot, wait till he degrades you as he fucks you into the sheets. Damn.

Impact play: he loves to see your skin mark up as his hand smacks against it, he's never too rough. But enough to see a mark, for you to groan out. Its hotttt.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He'd definitely love to fuck you in the houses of those you steal from. Taking all their valuables AND fuck all around their houses? Beautiful.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Not related to you, after a good job. It peps him up, and he'll use that energy out on you. Related to you, when you touches places like his neck, his thighs. That sorta thing. If you start kising all over his neck he's ready.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing involving seriously hurting you, he'd never actually want to see you in pain, even if pleasure mixes. He'd feel too guilty.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Personally, I think he'd prefer to receive it. Not saying he doesn't like giving, he just loves watching you play with his cock and balls, watching you suck and lick. He loves it. When he goes down on you he loves when you sit on his face. He can grab at your ass and just zone out and enjoy it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and a mix of fast and slow. Depends on the mood, how he wants to fuck you, how you want him to fuck you. He likes it either way but he loves to pound you either way.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not too keen on them, he doesn't like to rush perfection, if you're fucking he wants actual time to do it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

To fuck you in the cistern while everyone is asleep, seeing if you can fuck without waking anyone up.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Depends really. He can't go many rounds, he's not as young as he looks. But he can last a while, yeah.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He uses them, yes. Sometimes he'll steal them from shops and surprise you with them, he likes to make you feel good and if you enjoy toys he will love them too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be, yes. He's a natural tease, loves to talk you into a orgasm just to pull away, just to watch you beg for release. Boosts his ego.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not too loud. He grunts and groans but beyond that he doesn't moan very loudly.

W = Wild Card

Would break into your exes house just to fuck you on their bed as a silent 'lol they're mine now xoxo'

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Thick. Meaty. Big. Curves upwards. Juicyyyyy. LMAOOO.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Notttt too bad. He loves sex but he's a busy man, rile him up and he's ready to go.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bro sleeps like a log. After he knows you're both relaxed he's dead asleep. It's kinda funny how fast he drops off.

#skyrim x reader #elder scrolls x reader #skyrim headcanon #skyrim scenarios #skyrim x dovahkiin #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #elder scrolls #skyrim farkas x reader #farkas x reader #farkas x dragonborn #skyrim farkas #farkas

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - A Pops in all but blood

I was in the mood for some wholesome and silly shenanigans of the Vampire family (Bright Eyes, Frederick and Sam) + Tanker so I started writing a bit. I wanted at least 3 scenarios but since I'm juggling with two other fics, this one took a step back.

But here's the first scene! I'll try to add more once I'm in the mood again~ Tagging @moonandstarlightsposts because she hyped me up!

-

“Bright. You need to drink.” 

“Nah, I’m good actually. Had a sip of Freddy.”

“Hmm. Freddy then. Have you drunk yet?”

“Uh, I’m actually not hungry. Thanks, Sam.”

“OK, enough’s enough. Why aren’t y’all drinking any of the blood bags in the fridge?” 

Vincent pretends to occupy himself with his phone but in reality? He’s doing his best not to grin the moment Sam puts on what he likes to call ‘The Disappointed Dad™’ voice. When he dares to peek above his phone, Sam is close to wearing an expression to match it. Sprawling on the couch on top of a sheepish Frederick, Bright Eyes pretend not to notice as they watch TV. They’re like an indolent, spoiled cat and Vincent knows how Sam, Frederick and even William spoiled them terribly. 

Tonight Vincent was supposed to pick up the cowboy to a meet-up with William for a short meeting and then the two of them could grab dinner since their respective lovers are hanging out. Some bro bonding time, you know? (Vincent has a feeling that Sam would smack him on the head if he ever says it out loud). But the moment he lets himself into the Collins’ residence, Sam absentmindedly waves him to the lazy chair, too absorb with his Newborns. 

Who apparently, is in a fussy mood today. 

“Because.” Bright Eyes simply reply and switch to a horror channel. Completely unbothered as Sam sighed. 

“Bright, you know you can’t rely on Frederick’s blood forever. You need to start getting used to another source of food. It’s our way.” 

Vincent is surprised when Frederick chimes in. “We know. It’s just that, uh, the blood bags were off.” 

Sam and Vincent are left bewildered at that. So Vincent interjects. “What do you mean ‘off’? Blood doesn’t go ‘off’.” 

Bright roll their eyes and finally switch off the TV. They made a grabby motion at Frederick who easily and gently, pull them up so they could sit on his lap. Everyone in the Clan finds it adorable how touchy-freely these two are with each other. “Yeah, it does. Took a little taste earlier and some of them are just - blergh.” Bright scrunch up their face, recalling how their tongue cringes earlier.

Frederick nods but made no further comment. It made Sam narrow his eyes at them and Vincent is giddy. That means Sam’s about to go all parental on them. 

“By any random chance, are the ‘off’ blood bags happen to be B+?”

“Don’t know,” Bright Eyes says a little too quickly. Meanwhile, Frederick hides his face by pressing it against their neck. “Wasn’t really looking.” 

“Bright, if I go check the fridge and see fang marks on them B+ bags, it means they’re not off. You two are just picky.” 

No one says anything. So Sam pretends to impatiently tap his boot.

“I’m counting ‘til five. If I’m right, the next batch will be nothing but B+. One… two… three… four -”

It’s Frederick who gives in first. “We don’t like how it tastes! B+ taste funky and not the cool retro kind!” He whines. Bright Eyes pats his cheek comfortingly and he just soaks up their affection. 

Vincent coos at them while Sam just rolls his eyes and mutters, “Never met a Vamp fussy about blood types and now I got two of ‘em.” He then clears his throat and replies, “None of y’all are gonna make it far in life if B+ blood is stopping you from drinking. What? Are you going to run around asking people for their type before a sip?”

Frederick and Bright Eyes exchange a quick look. “Yeah.” 

Here Vincent interjects, wagging a finger at Sam’s kids. “I’ll pay real money to see you actually go around the clubs, asking people about their medical records. That’ll be hilarious!”

“Don’t encourage them, Vincent. Look, I’ll ask William for a batch other than B+ tonight but you two need to settle in already. Don’t give me that look, Bright; Darlin’ didn’t go easy on you during training. You need to eat so hop to it now and then bed.” 

It’s with fascination and a bit of admiration from Vincent as he watches Sam easily corrals the fussiest Newborns that he ever met to the fridge. Bright Eyes stop complaining once Sam triple promise to bring back ice-creams that Vincent has never heard from a foreign brand. He also observes how Frederick hesitantly drink from one of the blood bag and grimace, but a gentle push from Sam help him drink his fill. After a quick dinner, the two bid Vincent goodbye (well, Frederick, the sweetheart, did at least. Bright Eyes just gives him two finger guns and off they went upstairs) and he and Sam slide into the Vampire Prince’s new, shiny Bugatti Veyron. 

Just as Vincent is about to pull away from the house, Sam pointedly looks at him. “Not a word of what you saw tonight to William.” 

“And why’s that cowboy? Got a street cred going on that I don’t know about?” Vincent can’t help but tease him. Hey, never say that he didn’t enjoy living on the edge every once in a while. He yelps when Sam pinches his side though. 

“Cute, but no. William spoils them enough as it is. Heard him talking to some architects and woodworking folks about the kids' soon-to-be house. Gotta put my foot down somewhere.”

“Uh-huh. So does that mean B+ will still be in the fridge?” 

“...Not until Freddy and Bright are used to their diet.”

“Of course, Sam.” 

#monotony's rambling #redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns for bright eyes #bright eyes (listener) #frederick #sam collins #vincent solaire

[superblycaffeinated]

Year One: At Home In the Dark masterlist

warnings for series: mentions of alcohol/being drunk, mentions of violence/blood imagery (with warnings for specific chapters), mentions of anxiety and depression symptoms (with warnings for specific chapters), swearing - please do not read if you may find any of this triggering and take care of yourself.

“The proverbial saying ‘All’s fair in love and war’ expresses the idea that, like war, where any strategy is accepted, affairs of the heart are also no-holds-barred contests.”

Chapter One:

“Your mission, should you choose to accept is-“

Groans fill the room and Rebecca Baxter rolls her eyes at everyone. An amber bottle pressed to her lips as she nudges his shoulder. A silent, ‘Can you believe them? They’re absolutely no fun.’

Zachary Goode snickers into his own beer, a silent response of ‘No, you’re just overly dramatic as usual and Cam has probably had too many glasses of wine for this.’

“Alright, alright, fine.” Bex waves her hands and to look at him fully. “Truth or Dare? Clock’s ticking Goode.”

Maybe it’s the way he hasn’t felt this light in a long time - maybe ever, that they’re all together again for it too. Summer evening wind blows at his hair that’s gotten a little too long. From their spot on the porch, he can hear the hum of crickets and cicadas, smell the familiar scent of leaves that are ready to turn for Autumn in the air. He doesn’t even have shoes on, he can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel the need to be ready to go. Or it could be the way his heart does this funny thing of swelling and aching in the same beat when Cam blows hair off of her cheek, giggling like she’s eighteen again as Liz pours more wine.

Or maybe he’s just drunk.

“Truth.”

Yeah, definitely just drunk.

The entire circle falls silent, cups and bottles half suspended to parted lips, laughter trails off as eyes widen. Every single one of them can hear each other’s heartbeats, the distinct ping of water from the faucet hitting ceramic inside and down the hall, and the ticking of the clock just inside the dining room.

Cammie sits up straighter, wiping at her lips. “What?”

Bex sits back against the porch column hard. Liz props up on her knees - clearly criss cross applesauce is too child’s play for what’s at stake here. Macey narrows her eyes at him from her spot on the couch above the other two girls as she tosses back the rest of her wine. Even Preston and Jonas look at him with furrows forming above their brows.

Jesus, they’re all so dramatic.

He rolls his eyes and turns to Bex. “You gonna ask me the question or not?”

“But you, you never pick-“ she looks around the group and he marks the date in his calendar. Rebecca Baxter has been rendered speechless and actually physically appears frazzled as she drums her fingers on her knees and looks at the stars. “I mean, what do I ask? I never thought I’d actually get the chance.”

Cammie narrows her eyes and points at him, “Ask him where he hid the M&M’s because I know he did.”

Zach grins, blowing her a kiss that she rolls her eyes at but smiles into her wine glass because of nonetheless.

Bex waves off the suggestion, not serious enough of course. She snaps her fingers and Macey moves to the edge of the couch cushion. “Oh! Private jet and the Russians!”

Bex counters, “Finland, embassy with the Duchess?”

Cammie laughs, “Idaho, potato farmer?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, don’t waste it on that one, I have pictures.”

Zach makes a mental note about finding and deleting those, beginning to hum the jeopardy theme song. He’s definitely drunk, because he should have been noticing the one girl who was far too silent. He should have known that when Elizabeth Sutton is quiet, that means she’s thinking big things.

“What about when he fell in love with Cammie?” The question is calculated, lazy almost in her tone, but it catches him off guard and Liz is far to perceptive to let it slip. His eyes widened, pupils dilating. His breath changed just so, stuck in his throat. His heart rate increased. Damn stupid beer he was never drinking ever again.

The two men opposite him groan at the suggestion and the four women turn on him. Hawk eyes, lioness’ stalking their prey. He was done for the minute the question was suggested. He has one of two options as he sees it now. Lie his ass off to the room of people who know all of his tells or plead with the love of his life.

Zach shakes his head, staring directly at Cammie. “Cammie, no, please don’t make me talk about this in front of everyone? You hate attention, it’s complicated and-“

She hums into her wine glass interrupting him, “I dunno, Zach, I think high school Cammie really needs some answers. You messed with her head quite a bit.”

Shit, bad move. Should have lied right away - ‘I loved Cammie the minute I laid eyes on her in that DC mall. Truly love at first sight, I just had to figure out who that Gallagher Girl really was’ is not gonna cut it now, they’re far too hungry for juicy gossip like they’re back in school.

“We’re married!” He holds up his left hand to prove the point, grasping at anything to make this all go away. Zach gestures out the entrance of the porch, “Our children are asleep down the hall!”

Cam only levels him with a look he’s grown to know very well. It’s the look she gives the kids when they lie and say they brushed their teeth before bed. He’s busted.

Liz stands, the girl closing in on him until his back hits the porch railing. She nudges his chest as she speaks so threateningly for someone with ducks all over their pajama’s. “Spill, or I get the truth serum.”

“You know, I forget that you’re the scariest one of the bunch sometimes Lizzie,” he gulps as Jonas cackles from his spot on the ground.

The four girls simply raise their eyebrows, and he admits defeat. His hands lift to the air beside his head. “Okay, okay, but I need another beer for this.”

Giddy with their victory, everyone settles into comfortable positions, eager to not let him get away with anything but a good and long story.

Zach avoids the creak of the floorboard as he heads into the kitchen, listening intently for the sounds of his children stirring at all. His hip hits the fridge closed in just the right spot, pulling the opener from it’s drawer.

He looks at the fridge as he leans against the counter, a picture of him and Cam in front of Gallagher on the day of Rachel and Joe’s wedding held up by a hand painted magnet. Red splotchy paint covering the words ‘World’s Best Dad’ glazed and shiny from a kiln. It’s not that he doesn’t know when he fell in love with her, he does, it’s just not so simple.

The bottle cap pops off with a hiss, then a click of it hitting the counter. He watches the green metal spin, slowing as it gets closer to meeting the flat surface of the countertop.

“Goode!”

Zach snatches the copper coin he’d been spinning against the tabletop before it flattens and stands, hands held into fists behind his back at attention.

An armed guard with flushed cheeks and a forehead dappled with sweat marches towards him.

Oh swell, it’s Jeff.

At Blackthorne, any guard calling your name in that tone isn’t gonna be great, but Jeff has this way of spitting when he talks, of not realizing what the words personal space mean, and probably has never ever heard of breath mints and their miraculous powers to ward off coffee breath.

Zach’s fingers fiddle with the coin behind his back. He’s getting better about the whole restless energy and showing it thing, but he figures it’s not dire circumstances to be on his game right now. His mind wanders through the possibilities of what today could be about. One of his bedsheet corners wasn’t tight enough, someone found the little yellow package of chocolaty goodness in his sock, or perhaps Jeff didn’t get his coffee and donut this morning and he just feels like picking on someone.

The cafeteria grows more silent as everyone decides that the show that’s about to go down has got to be better than eating the mystery meat on their trays.

“Sir?” Zach questions, staring at the spot just above Jeff’s left ear. A thing Jeff positively hates, causing him to continuously look over his shoulder and wonder what the hell Zach is staring at - but a thing that fills Zach with a small amount of joy.

It’s the little things.

Jeff does just this, head whipping around so fast he’s surprised the man doesn’t give himself whiplash. Jeff’s gaze darts across the wall and back to Zach. Beady, narrowed eyes meet his, Zach’s lips twitch slightly, revealing too much - another thing he’s still working on. But Jeff is fairly harmless and hasn’t quite mastered the art of interpreting Zach’s smaller tells.

“Visitors,” Jeff snarls and Zach’s shoulders fall.

Fuck.

The room grows even more silent, the quiet din of metal silverware hitting their trays and cups hitting wood vanish completely now as the unmistakable red head of hair floats through the cafeteria towards him. Shoulders straighten, voices cease, and breaths are held with each click then clack of black pumps against the concrete floors.

His mother is here, and she’s brought friends.

“Hello darling, miss me?”

Catherine Goode commands attention, she just does. A room full of hormone crazed teenage boys was already going to be acutely aware of a woman wearing a black dress accentuating her curves walking amongst them, they were already going to stare, Zach knows this. But Catherine has something else, the strong voice of a soldier mixed with a soft femininity enveloping each word she speaks, making you think each word is somehow meant only for you. A perfect way to get what she wants that he’s seen in action enough times to know she’s mastered skillfully. Her loss ratio is zero, she has the control every time.

For everyone except her son.

“Can’t say that I have, Cat.” Zach presses the coin between his thumb and forefinger, the indent of Abraham Lincoln surely going to be preserved in his fingerprint forever. He knows it’s a shot in the dark. Sometimes she’s pleasantly surprised by his resistance, dare he say almost impressed. But most times, it ends poorly for him.

Catherine Goode’s eyes - his eyes - narrow, her playfulness disappearing with an art that Houdini would envy. “That’s no way to talk to your mother, Zachary. Let’s go. I have people I need to introduce you to and we have something important to discuss.”

She gestures to the men behind her as she speaks, before stepping closer. Her head dips - like a snake ready to attack. He visualizes it perfectly before it happens, a hand wraps around his bicep, squeezing. Not in a loving, motherly way, but in a warning - strike one. Her voice lowers as she hisses, “Behave,” while fingernails dig into his skin leaving small crescent moons. The snake is playing with it’s food before it tightens it’s coil and removes his oxygen.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinds his teeth, jaw clenching as the toes of his boots tap together when he straightens to formal attention again.

She smiles, satisfied with his submission and pats his cheek a little too harshly before turning on her heels and clicking away. Her fingers curl behind her head as she walks. “Gentleman.” Then they waggle out to the faces of the cafeteria in a wave, “Boys.”

He hates that he ducks his head, that he follows her blindly. His gut twists as he counts the cracks in the concrete he already knows the number of, knowing that if he were to lift his head, his classmates - if you can even call them that - would be looking at him with eyes full of pity. Sometimes he envies the ones who have nothing, it has to be better than her. But then, it’s like she knows he’ll have a thought like this. She’ll do something almost nice, she’ll make him feel guilty. How dare he wish he didn’t have her, there were good times once upon a time right?

He shakes his head, no, this is what she wants. He simply follows, choosing to hold his chin up in defiance of any pity that he can feel hitting the back of his uniform as he walks out of the cafeteria.

The men she’s brought follow closely behind her. Suits. Not terribly expensive, they’re not big deals. One is slightly taller, a thick brown mustache. This man watches his mother with sharp blue eyes, he’s not fully under her spell it would seem. As Catherine smiles and gestures into a door, the man nods and enters. The slightly younger and shorter one gestures for Zach to enter first. He’s blonde, strong shoulders, with brown eyes that look at Zach in a way that makes him feel like he’s under a microscope. This man closes the door and stands in front of it and Zach would bet his next few meals that he was Secret Service.

Mustache man sits with a groan loudly in a chair as his mother leans up against a low bookshelf. A fairly empty classroom that wasn’t used much these days. While the weather was nice, it was strictly outside for use of the range, running drills, and perimeter and mountain trail runs. Classroom time was for the bitterly cold days that even the teachers and guards knew wasn’t worth making the boys get frostbite over. Catherine fiddles with a cup of pencils, a finger swiping over the top of the shelf and leaving a streak of clean wood in its wake as her mouth pinches in disgust.

Lovely place you send me to school, huh, mom?

“Well, Zach,” mustache man’s voice is gravely, it leads Zach to believe the man used to smoke. The fact mingles with the face in his brain, a connection trying to surface to the forefront of it. Mustache man continues while holding his hand up at a height not too tall, “You’ve grown! You weren’t more than ye high last time I saw you I think.”

Zach’s always hated this greeting. What was a person supposed to say back to that? Thank you? That’s how time and puberty works? That’s what happens when you get three meals a day and stop wondering when the next one will be?

He mashes his lips together in a thin smile with a nod. He’s pretty sure that was a better move than opening it and saying any of that.

The man looks to Secret Service man and then his mother before giving another nod. “Right, well, you must be wondering what we’re here for.”

No, I love being humiliated by my mother in front of groups of people and then following her and two strangers into a dusty classroom to sit in silence, dude. I live for it, it’s my shit.

Again, not saying that, so he remains silent. Mustache man claps his hands together, looking to his mother for further instruction so it would seem. She smiles at Zach, her salesman one - the one he knows she pulls out when she really wants her way.

“Darling, these men, they have a proposition for you. A mission.”

He stands up a little straighter, unable to help himself at the word mission. A real mission? Involving his mother? The men furrow their brows slightly as Catherine continues and his apprehension and curiosity fight bay-blades style in his head - whirling around and knocking edges, unsure of who’s going to pull out in the lead just yet.

“They need some information. Some information that they think only you may be able to get for them.”

Zach waits, knowing his mother is just getting started. She’s setting a trap, complimenting him, loosening some stones in his closed off exterior, weakening it until it’s ready for a final strike. He rolls the grooved edge of the coin between his thumb and forefinger.

Catherine walks along the wall, her hands clasped behind her back. Her heels click against the tile, gaze lost on the tattered map hung on the wall. She leans in, feigning inspection as she speaks again. Her tone somehow lazy but dripping with an authoritative quality that when combined, made you lean in and feel the need to listen carefully. “As you’ve most likely come to know in your training, it’s important, in some missions, to get close to a subject. To have a relationship with them, to make them an asset.”

The mustached man cut in, “An asset is-“

“A person within organizations who provide information to outside sources. Yeah, I know.”

“Zachary.”

Warning number two, he won’t be given a third.

Silence fills the room again at her sharp use of his name. Zach’s head bows and the other two men focus on her - it’s her happy place, he knows this. She controls the room, two grown men with their entire attention fully on her and her son’s submission, she’d bask in it like it was the sun on the beach for hours if she had the time.

Zach begins to flip the coin, impatient for the details of how this all affects him, what exactly it is he’s being asked here. He watches the coin arc in the air and land in his hand several times, waiting for her big finish.

Her slender and skilled fingers intercept the coin on his next toss. Her green eyes hold his and this time, even he can’t deny them as she delivers his very first official mission.

“We need you to get some information from Joe.”

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #zachary goode #catherine goode #zammie #bex baxter #cameron morgan #liz sutton #jonas anderson #preston winters #macey mchenry

[bluebird990]

Hello again! I literally loved your analysis! I wanted to know what zodiac sign you think the characters would be? literally whoever comes to mind (I ask this without any proper knowledge about zodiac signs myself lol)

- 💫

Omg anon you have no idea how much I appreciate this thank you so much 😭

I had to do a lot of research for this (read: watched one video on YT)cuz the only reason why I can even name all 12 zodiacs is Fairy Tail XD I had zero knowledge about them before this day. I had fun writing this. Hope you like it ;)

Gray Yeon

Apparently Gray is canonically a Taurus. I kinda agree and kinda don't.

He's loyal and patient but he's far from being materialistic or lazy.

He strikes me more as a Virgo honestly.

Analytical, observing and reserved. He used to be kind of cold too before Stephan, Ben and Eugene happened.

He used to be very reserved and skeptical at the beginning of the series but is extremely trustworthy and gives good advice to those he warmed up to.

Goes to show how far he has come. I'm so proud of him.

Ben Park

So Ben is, according to canon, a Leo. Let that sink in. A Leo. Bruh hell nah. Just no.

Ben is anything but a Leo???

I think he'd be either a Cancer or a Pisces.

He's definitely the most selfless person right after Stephan.

He fits the description of a Pisces the most. He has the instincts of a wild animal and is adaptable when it comes to saving his friends. He's definitely sensitive, loyal, kinda clingy and very protective of his friends.

Now that I think about it, he could be an Aries too. I mean he is a great leader, enthusiastic, impulsive and very energetic.

Idk what do you think? Ben is Aries or Pisces?

Gerard Jin

Canonically, he's a Virgo which, I kinda agree with.

He is hardworking, kinda reserved and reliable but he's definitely not cold. He tried to be cold in middle school but that failed not-so-horribly in him saving the kid from the railway track.

I think he'd be fussy about his food cuz of his old man taste XD

He's also always been analytical and observing. An example of which would be him following Gray after gray beat up Colton, knowing that Colton wouldn't let it go so easily.

He's also really trustworthy after you warm up to him. Honestly no other sign fits him as well as Virgo does.

Alex Go

Alex is an Aries canonically and I definitely agree with this. Aries fits him perfectly.

He's enthusiastic and energetic. He is insecure because he thinks he's weak and hates it when Ben or someone else has to get hurt to protect him.

He has a desire to succeed and stand tall alongside Ben.

He can get moody and impulsive. He loves adventure. He even had his chunni era XD and can't stand boredom that's why he's messing around and skipping classes with Ben XD

Donald Na

Donald is a Capricorn according to canon, which fits him really well actually. Tho he could be qualified as an Aquarius too.

The only problem with him being a Capricorn is that he's not sympathetic or caring. Tho he would have a unique sense of humor I think. I hc that his sense of humor is either dark or dork and nothing in between XD and sarcasm. Definitely sarcasm.

Although Aquarius does fit him perfectly.

He is a progressive thinker and is intellectually driven cuz of his past.

He's rebellious, stubborn, emotionally detached, sarcastic and aloof.

Tho let's hope that he goes from an Aquarius to a Capricorn by the end of this manhwa *fingers crossed*

Wolf keum

This is a tricky one. It would be so much easier if we JUST KNEW HIS BACKSTORY AJHHEJDJEHRJJD.

Canon says he's an Aries. Which I don't know what to think of.

He is enthusiastic and energetic (only in relation to fighting). He is independent and extremely moody, impulsive and kinda selfish too.

He also has a low boredom tolerance but he definitely would not be a good leader. He's more of an uncontrollable wild card.

Does he have insecurities tho?? Everyone does right? So this mf should too. Let's just hope we get his backstory in this arc *tired exhale*

He definitely has a desire to succeed and win (again only in relation to fighting) so I guess Aries is a good fit for him. He could also be an Aquarius tho. Yeah definitely could be an Aquarius (less the progressive and intellectual thinking)

I never thought I'd be putting Wolf in the same category as Alex...

Jimmy Bae

According to canon, he's a Cancer, which I am totally in agreement of.

Before his backstory reveal, I would've thought of him as Leo but afterwards, oh boy, he has so much more to his character.

He's actually really sensitive, loyal and dependable. He's also very protective of his friends (Jack). My man readily threw his precious pride out the window for saving Jack.

He's also very moody tho and can be a little self absorbed too sometimes. Especially when it comes to training.

He can also be misunderstood by people really easily. Just like how half of the fandom had (including me) before his backstory.

He can be really difficult to understand but is definitely the kindest to a select few people (Jack).

Jake Ji

Jake is another tricky one. Canonically he's a Scorpio which is a 50-50.

He is independent, passionate and very emotional (Ace's death broke this boy XD).

He is unyielding in his principles and priorities but has to dance around Donald's pinky cuz he owes him one (which is so unfair).

He can be moody too but doesn't let it influence his "work" or his actions.

Tho I don't know about him being possessive, jealous or manipulative. He does strike me as a possessive guy but he's definitely not manipulative. I don't think he has that many brain cells or mental capacity to do that XD

He could also be a Pisces or Cancer because he's dedicated to keeping his friends and family safe. He could be an Aries too, honestly, I don't even know anymore XD tell me what you think would fit him best.

Alright imma end it here. This is getting a bit too long. Lmk if anyone wants a part 2 and I'll write about the rest of the characters.

I had a lot of fun doing this. Thanks to you anon, I finally got around knowing more about the zodiac personalities. I had wanted to know more but always kept pushing it down so thank you :D

P.s. my knowledge of zodiacs is limited to the one video I saw of Psych2go describing them so yeah if I made some mistakes regarding the qualities of the zodiacs then blame them not me XD (jk)

#weak hero #weak hero webtoon #wolf keum #gray yeon #donald na #ben park #alex go #gerard jin #jimmy bae #jake ji

[rarepears]

That twink!Sung Jinwoo X Endeavor idea I keep forgetting to post to tumblr

But it's finally here. And copy-pasted from Discord, so it's a bit of a mess, but I'm too lazy to clean it up. (Also wow! This is my 1,234th post on this blog.)

Why do i want to pair twink!sung jinwoo (who's really like a thousand years old and just hopped to a new world called bnha) with DILF!Endeavor?

Shouto (14 and about to start attending UA) is Not Impressed that his dad is having what's clearly a midlife crisis and dating this young twink that looks to be like Fuyumi's age. It's Awkward And Are You Sure He's Not Jailbait, Father????

Okay, so Jinwoo can control his appearance. and he's found that when he lands in a new world, it's best to be 18 or so for paperwork. He can claim to be homeschooled for highschool, but he can't just whip up fake college papers. it's hard, it's pretty easy to get discovered once his so-called classmates are asked, and just... nah. Instead as a barely 18 year old, he can claim that his parents are conspiracy theorists who didn't let him have official documentations or that he doesn't know where they are since he ran away from the crazy people.

But when he starts dating. Um. It looks weird, very weird because he prefers mature people. but he looks like a twink.

-

Shouto: why does endeavor listen to the twink so much when making decisions? Endeavor: i know that my husband is far more experienced in this type of stuff so i'll listen to the expert Everyone else: yes that's totally a midlife crisis

-

Hawk: THAT could've been me WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT ME

You know what would be even better? Jinwoo's made up background says that his nonexistent parents who believed in conspiracies hid Jinwoo and prevented him from getting official documents because "they feared that jinwoo would be kidnaped by some government agency for his quirk and get brainwashed to become their agent."

Now cue jinwoo being known publicly as endeavor's twink husband.

Hawks sees this background info on jinwoo and boy oh boy does it sound incredibly ironic to him because he was the kid kidnapped by the government agency and brainwashed to be their agent

Hawks: why is Jinwoo living the life that I always wanted to have????

-

Jinwoo looks like he has daddy issues. With that kind of "background", Jinwoo would 100% look like he has daddy issues.

Shouto: Jinwoo's waist is so thin that endeavor's one palm can wrap all around it Shouto: now that endeavor doesn't need babies with powerful quirks, he can look for people who look as delicate as glass to love huh?? angry puppy eyes

Shouto is no longer the baby of the family. Jinwoo is the baby of the family, the baby in Endeavor's heart.

Shouto: i could have had a crush on jinwoo if jinwoo didn't show that he had terrible taste in men to like my dad of all people

-

Dabi: let me try to steal my dad's flame from him

Insert love triangle between Dabi, Endeavor, and Jinwoo. And if you know just what's actually going on, it's even weirder that father-son are competing for the same twink now.

-

Shouto: one look at this small twink and endeavor has suddenly thrown all his ambitions to defeat all might as the No. 1 hero???? Is this the legendary power of a thicc booty???

all endeavor needed was a good lay???

endeavor: from asshole to slightly less asshole

-

Shouto's first meeting is seeing Endeavor "rescuing" jinwoo from villain. (Shouto tagged along on Endeavor's patrol.)

And then Endeavor doesn't let Jinwoo go, offers the twink some candy instead, and kidnap Jinwoo to his home, or so Shouto believes. (Shouto didn't realize that the two have been dating for a few months already)

Shouto to Jinwoo: Did no one ever teach you not to follow the adult men who give you free candy???

Shouto: I HAVE SO MANY COMMON SENSE THINGS I NEED TO TEACH MY NEW STEPMOM

Shouto: number 1 - if endeavor tells you to do something, you need to do the reverse

Jinwoo: so if he says that he's too tired at night...?

Shouto: uh-

-

Wait.

Sung Jinwoo has a walking, talking sentient shadow monster. Shouto immediately sees his new classmate and yells at him: "I HAVE FOUND YOUR LONGLOST COUSINS PLEASE TAKE HIM AND NEVER LOOK BACK."

Tokoyami: ...is this my first instance of high school bullying? Kuroiro: ???

Everyone's first impression of shouto: this is a second Bakugou?

At USJ: We have shouto seeing kurogiri and going like "hey i found your younger brother". Shouto is very desperate to separate Sung Jinwoo from bad influence!Endeavor.

Kurogiri is so bamboozled that the attack doesn't happen. He gets his coordinates wrong and dumps the kids in the wrong location.

Shouto: I KNEW THAT JINWOO"S OLDER BROTHER COULDN"T BE A BAD GUY

-

Meanwhile a shadow butler is washing dishes in the background. Another shadow butler is trimming the lawn. And a third is cleaning up all the muddy footsteps that Shouto trekked through the house. Then there's just a bear rolling around in the middle of the living room.

Jinwoo's past time involves reading books like "how to get along with your spouse's children" + "101 ways to be a good stepparent". One of the tips is reaffirming your stepchildren's dreams.

Shouto's dream is to convince jinwoo that he's too good for endeavor. Sung Jinwoo just nods along. Shouto thinks after every conversation that he's managed to successfully convince jinwoo; he's very disappointed to see jinwoo the next morning, sitting next to endeavor at breakfast.

Shouto: new conspiracy theory being that Jinwoo is a mail order bride

all for that japanese citizenship

-

Jinwoo just really enjoys climbing trees. That's the official hobby listed on his biography: tree climbing.

Hawks reads it in a very different way.

In another interview, jinwoo talks about how he knows how to ride horses.

Hawks: sTop it we all know endeavor is hung like a stallion!

Honestly, if this were to become a oneshot, half of the fic would just be bullying Hawks. Hawks just being salty the whole time-

WAIT so we all know jinwoo's crazy transformation from like chubby cheek 18 year old who looks like he's younger than his younger sister? And then by becoming S rank, he gets HOT. I'm talking sexy hot model hot.

So Hawks just watches in great annoyance as Jinwoo goes through this insane transformation at "20" And then jinwoo starts... stealing modeling jobs and magazine covers.

Jinwoo the model.

Hawks: is this man out to attack him? Hawks: i came into this life to have a good time and i'm feeling very attacked now. Hawks: WELL IT'S NOT LIKE HE CAN FLY Jinwoo: brings out a dragon Hawks: ...

More in the #twink!Sung Jinwoo (except he's the immortal monarch of death) X Endeavor au where hawks is SufFeRiNg

#sung jinwoo #hawks #endeavor #todoroki enji #sung jin woo #bnha #boku no academia #bnha ideas #mha #solo leveling ideas #solo leveling #endeavor x sung jinwoo #twink!Sung Jinwoo (except he's the immortal monarch of death) X Endeavor au where hawks is SufFeRiNg

[flowerfan2]

Read the coda to 8.03 on A03 here, or from the beginning here.

A continuous story of season 3 episode codas which creates one unified story - the Ted/Trent interactions we don’t see...

Chapter 8

Ted watches the cab with Michelle and Henry in it pull away from the curb and drive off down the street.   He’s pretty sure Michelle sussed out what he was trying to do as she left, when he wouldn’t let go of Henry’s backpack, but it still hadn’t worked – he wasn’t able to tell for sure whether she was wearing a ring or not.  He doesn’t think so.

He doesn’t think, frankly, that Michelle and Jake are necessarily going to make it as a couple, not if Jake gets annoyed when he and Michelle chat like old times.  It seems like Jake should understand that’s how they connect – he does have the benefit of all those counseling sessions when he was theoretically helping them work on their marriage – and yet he seemed annoyed at their easy banter.  Of course, banter alone doesn’t make a healthy relationship, as Michelle so often reminded him.

Ted doesn’t know why he can’t let go of all this.  He’s not the first person to get divorced, the world is full of them.  Hell, Trent is divorced, and Rebecca.  Pretty much everyone he spends his time with is either single or in a dysfunctional relationship of one kind or another.

He should really listen to what Rebecca said.  Stop letting yesterday get in the way of today.  There’s a handsome man out there that is waiting for him to make up his mind, and as patient as Trent is, he might not wait forever.  So what, exactly, is holding him back?

He allows himself a good long sigh, straightens his back, and calls Trent.

*****

Trent should be surprised to see Ted’s name pop up on his phone, but he’s not.  He knows Michelle and Henry are heading back to the U.S. tonight, and he has prepared himself for another long, agonizing talk where he consoles Ted about his feelings for someone who isn’t Trent.  

Trent had thought Ted was finally coming to terms with it all.  Last week at the pub Ted had sat close and looked at him fondly, given Trent hope that maybe they were on their way back to being together.  But then Michelle and Henry came to visit and that hateful, unethical excuse for a therapist whisked her away to Paris, and Ted was spiraling about his ex once more.

Trent has already heard all about the fun Ted, Beard and Henry had together, including their great Beatles sing-along.  It stings that now Beard hangs out with Ted and Henry, when over the summer it had been Trent and Darla showing Ted and Henry all their favorite places in London.  But that was when Ted wanted to be with Trent, and now he’s still not sure.  Or at least, not sure enough.

Trent answers his phone.  Just because he wants something doesn’t mean he’s going to get it, and no amount of self-pity is going to keep him from being there for Ted when he needs it.

“Hello?”

“How you holdin’ up, buttercup?”

Trent frowns.  “I rather thought I’d be asking you that.”

“Nah, I’m good.”  A pause.  “Really good, actually.”  Ted’s voice has dropped a register, and Trent feels his breath catch.  “Wonderin’ if you were free tonight?”

An hour later Ted and Trent are curled up together on Trent’s couch, jazz playing softly in the background, mostly empty tumblers of whiskey on the coffee table.  Ted is lying on his side, pressed against Trent’s chest, and playing with his hair as they make out like horny but somewhat lazy teenagers.

Ted’s hand starts to wander south, and Trent, despite himself or maybe in a delayed burst of good sense, stops his progress by taking his hand in his.

“Ted.”

Ted noses at Trent’s jaw.  “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.  What’s up, sugar?”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Ted freezes.  “Oh.”  It’s only one syllable, but the hurt comes through.

“It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“Then what is it, exactly?”  Ted sits up, awkwardly disentangling them and shoving himself to the other end of the couch.  “All this time, I thought you were pining for me, was I wrong about that?  Did I somehow misread your intentions, Mr. Crimm?”

“There’s no need to get angry, Ted-”

“Don’t you tell me how to feel.”  Ted gets up, stumbling as he straightens his clothes.  “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do want this,” Trent says, keeping his voice calm.  He rises and puts his hands on Ted’s shoulders, stilling his anxious sway.  “I want you.”  

Ted is blinking furiously, but the message gets through.  “You do, right?  I’m not – I’m not too late?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not too late.”  Trent puts his arms around Ted and pulls him close, cradling Ted’s head against his own.  “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it – I want you.”

“I want you too,” Ted mumbles, tucking his face against Trent’s neck.  

They stand there like that for a long moment, Trent rubbing circles on Ted’s back while Ted finds his equilibrium.

“Thank you,” Ted says finally, pulling away enough to meet Trent’s gaze.  

“For what?”

Ted brushes his fingers through his hair, already mussed from their make-out session.  “For making us slow down.  For knowing…”. Ted looks away, scrubs a hand over his face and shakes his head.  “For knowing that it isn’t a good idea to do” he waves a hand around “too much, just yet.”  He looks up at Trent, vulnerable and open.  “But, soon, maybe?”

“I’d like that,” Trent says, and presses a chaste kiss to Ted’s lips.  It’s sweeter than any kiss they’ve shared so far tonight.  “I’d like that very much.”

#Ted Lasso #Ted Lasso fic #Trent Crimm #Ted/Trent #Tent #Tent fic #Ted/Trent fic

[mv-damn]

been thinking about transfem Akarsha. basically the exact same person except even more depression and self-deprecation. somehow. she does one of the classic transfem egg thing of being friends w/ a bunch of girls, HOWEVER, she is not actually very femme at all, andro at most. (like canon Akarsha tbh.) maybe letting hair grow out "out of laziness", probably in a low pony if so. anyway generally like

- egg!Akarsha accompanying the rest of DAMN to the baseball thing, and Chryssa going, "oh sorry, this baseball team is only for girls." Akarsha processes for a second before laughing and kinda cringing away and going "ahaha, yea, I'm just here to support my friends, lol" (Liz in the background ofc going [laser eyes] *EGG SPOTTED*)

- egg!Akarsha going to the Monarchs' games to be a good supportive friend and somebody gets whacked with a baseball and has to sit out. they realize that they don't actually have any backups and so are about to forfeit when somebody remembers about Akarsha/she volunteers, maybe? anyway she grabs a cap and glove and plays with them the rest of the game and gets this weird thrill from doing it which shes like "hmm not going to ponder that any further"

- a really awkward period where Noelle and egg!Akarsha actually date for a little while, effectively but unconsciously acting as each other's beards, before the relationship either fails and goes back to being friends or the cliche "I'm lesbian" "I'm trans" moment.

- you could maybe do a cute fake dating thing where Noelle's like "my mom is going to KILL ME if I don't bring home a boyfriend for Chinese New Year and you're the only guy I don't despise, can you PLEASE come to dinner on Chinese New Year and pretend to be my bf"

- there are so many different ways you could go with this and so many bits I want to explore, I might just make a separate post tbh.

- also imagining obligatory mtf ftm solidarity stuff with Min. something along the lines of "man I fucking hate being a guy. I wish I was a girl. doesn't everyone wish they were a girl?" "nah I fucking hate being a girl dude. I wish I was a guy". would also make their potential romantic relationship SUPER queer, which is always fun.

#butterfly soup #akarsha #noelle #transfem akarsha #transfem egg akarsha x comphet noelle #she speaks #ppkm

[cosmic--marmalade]

Gormenghast Body

A/N: I'm feeling too lazy to format this proper, or tag it proper. It's Hurt/comfort

Neurodivergent!Jon hasn't figured out a healthy way to cope with being overstimmed yet and almost has a panic attack/full blown meltdown. Eddie helps.

Being intentionally unteatherd from ones body, from needing to TendCareForceUsefullness for it, is a delicate process when done on purpose. He knows this, knows it helps even, but pushes the urge to ask as far down as he can make to go. As a result he floats away from himself at the most inconvenient of moments.

He's aware that they're all in the middle of dinner, while he's stuck looking up from the bottom of a swimming pool. Watching everything and everyone move around him, too far away too care

The music of the restaurant is distant, warbling through his watery mind sluggishly. He nods, a quick jut of the chin at a question someone asks him (he has no idea what the fuck it was, but the silent response must have been enough because no one is looking at him now), and he cannot feel it. The world is a never ending loop of BrightnessDarkness, rippling in his vision. Colors, shapes, distant rumbles of laughter all dulled by his disconnect, shades away from his physical body.

It'd be pleasant if he felt like he could breathe. He has no idea how long he's been holding his breath for, letting it out in a long gust of a BubbledAir.

"That was a big sigh." The voice next to him cuts so clear that Mox is totally back before he even finishes blinking. Fresh out of the pool startled, Eddie looking at him like he was drowning.

He might have been.

Mox shrugs, sinking in to his sweatshirt, pretending he didn't forget how to breathe. Like the obnoxious din of the restuarant wasn't grating on every freshly soaked nerve he has. Like he didn't not want to be here.

He can see the way Eddie had already pushed past his bullshit. Past the QuietSurfaceTired, right into that thrumming pool pump of anxiety in his chest.

He can't stop the way his leg bounces as he orients himself to the real world again, even as he tries to stop. But his skin's too tight, and silverware's too light in his hand, and his leg fuckin bounces along of its own will.

Eyefluttering, breathholding, pure fucking chlorine soaked Mox chances a glance at Eddie. Which was the wrong thing to do.

Maybe.

He's so jumbled up and weary that he doesn't know what the face Eddie is making means. Maybe it means he's mad.

Jon really fucking hopes he's not mad.

"Hey, I think we're good for tonight. Exhusted as shit-" Protests ring out from around the table, the cacophony of disappointment sits heavy in Mox's chest. "Nope, nah, don't want to hear it. If any of you motherfuckers want to sleep your hangovers off in the car tomorrow you're gonna let us-" Jon tries so so hard not to jump out of his skin as Eddie's hand connects with his chest. "Sit your dumbassery out."

He has no idea if Eddie pays, or it's for both of them, he waves a short goodbye over his shoulder but couldn't tell you who was sat at that table if his life depended on it.

He's all swim tired, head too light, and legs almost shaking as Eddie walks them back to the hotel. For summer the night is almost bitingly cold, must be the wind.

Yeah, the wind.

He's a pace or two behind Eddie, who is walking more slow, cautiously, than he usually does.

He's mad.

He has to be mad. Jon ignores the tightness at his throat.

He's breathing. It means nothing.

The hotel lobby is brighter than a football field, and the elevator is the same. Eddie doesn't protest or grumble as Jon pushes his body into his space. Or when he tucks his face into the crook of Eddie's neck. Just lays a heavy hand on his nape, thumb pressing soft circles into the skin.

Doing what he always does, feels obligated to do.

Jon wants to crawl out of his skin, he doesn't fucking deserve it. Not one bit. Not at all. Not when he definitely ruined the night.

He's not certain when they got to the hotel room, just knows because Eddie has to pry his StupidNeedyUseless frame off of his to open the door.

He follows Eddie in, trembling, as most of the lights are flicked low or off. The dimness of the room is warm, inviting, a fucking relief really.

"Hey, c'mere." Eddie wraps Jon up in an embrace, to soften the blow of the scolding that's sure to come. Has to be.

"Whoa hey, what the fuck? What you crying for? Thought you wanted to get outta there, looked like you were gonna float away if you didn't." Eddie wipes the tears from Jon's face with a tenderness that he can't quite wrap his brain around. When did he start crying?

He opens his mouth to try to say something, anything, and- and-

"You're not mad?" It's a pathetic, watery question, rasped out from the deepest part of his fear. He catches sight of some slouched, teary, shaking twentysomething in the reflection of the bedside lamp on his side. Skinny like he hasn't eaten enough, peaky and pale like he might throw up anyways. Was that him?

Was that really him?

Eddie's pulling him in close and tight again. Murmuring softly into his hair in a way he can't quite parse.

"No man, I'm fucking worried. You were sitting at our table all night but you weren't there. Where'd you go, huh?" His tone is fond, light but-

"I think it was too much, it was...one second I was there walking in with you and the next I was just," Jon's not sure how to finish the sentence, heart pounding.

"I don't know. It's like my brain puts me on autopilot." The need to move his body, shake out this weakness in it, burns in his fingers. He rolls his neck, pressing his palms into his eye sockets like he can compress the rest of his mind back into its container.

Tendrils of himself float away, riptide confetti, as he talks. He can't hold all of himself together like this, not alone.

"Can you just," Mox let's the words ping pong around till he can get them out of his mouth.

"Hit me, kiss me, I don't I just- take me out of my skull? Put me back together?" He grinds his teeth, he hates asking. Makes him feel like he's chewing glass.

Eddie watches him try to detangle the singular thought from his brain, the longer he thinks the more Mox is sure Eddie is gonna dump him on his ass and go back to the restaurant.

A car alarm goes off in the parking lot and Mox thinks he flinches. His vision snaps like he does.

"Yeah I can do that." Eddie's timber SinkMeltSmoothes its way into Mox's marrow. A warm hand sliding along his face, cupping his cheek makes him realize how cold he is.

The car alarm shuts off, and Mox is more than thankful for that. More than thankful when Eddie presses their mouths together sweetly, like he can pull Mox back onto land from the crush of their bodies alone.

Jon shivers, pressing closer, arms looping around his friend's shoulders as Eddie picks him up and lays him down gently in the bed. God, when did they start moving?

Eddie's kisses are warm molasses, soothing the distant cold ache in Mox's body. His heart finally slowing down as Eddie crowds into him, all soft and insistent. Like he wants this, like Jon isn't just someone he's obligated to care for, like he gets something from this too.

Jon sighs into his mouth pulling away from the kiss, holding himself close as he can still. His head is starting to slow down too, he's finding it easier to gently unravel the knots in his brain now.

"Hey." He breathes out softly, voice still on the edge of watery, eyes still stinging as if he might burst at the seams with tears at any moment.

"Hey yourself." Eddie grins back, eyes mirrors of his own.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to ask for this again. Maybe asking didn't mean waiting till someone noticed he was drowning already.

Maybe he should just kiss Eddie again.

So he does.

#briar writes #Jon Moxley #Eddie Kingston #EddieMox #listen is this probably ooc? yes #do I care right now? no #it made me feel good to write this so Imma post it just because I can #the drowning man came on when I was doing chores today and I can't resist a good song from The Cure

[artemiseamoon]

Pt 2: In the aftermath of everything

Slate (ofc) & Walt Breslin & Sal Orozco | ft. Calderoni and an Omc

Words: 5,970

Warnings: vague sexual content, language

About: Slate reunites with Walt and Sal, and continues to navigate life after Mexico. Walt and Slate have a bonding moment.

Fic info | Read pt one here ** important to read this first | part three

Read on A03

An: This has taken on a life of its own! I did plan out the oneshot, after the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Now, the story wants to grow. I am merely a vessel so here we go. The weather forecast is predicting angst and longing. No Calderoni in this chapter, but we do find out what happened soon! We haven’t seen the last of him yet. - Next chapter is up! And he’s featured in it.

3 months later

“Hell of a reunion.” The words barely left Walts’ lips before he slid a cigarette between them. He's doing his lazy smoking, when the cigarette is dangling loosely from his lips. Somehow, it never falls, at least not yet.

“You know that shit makes me nervous, Breslin. Watch the cig.”

Walt chuckled. There wasn't much energy behind that either, it's low, just like his voice, “all the shit you’ve seen Slate? And this makes you nervous?” He glanced back at her, his eyes concealed by his shades, same as everyone in the car.

“Yep.” Slate grabbed the cigarette and pretended to throw it out the window.

Walt grinned, took it back, then slipped it between his lips. In the driver seat, Sal chuckled quietly, his eyes still fixed on the house ahead. Only a minute or two pass in silence before Sal speaks, “target on the move.”

That evening

Walt returned to the table and placed a drink before Slate and Sal.

“Thanks man.” Sal raises his to his lips,

Slate responds with a small nod then does the same.

“Thanks for coming out, I wanted people I can trust on this.” Walt said as he settled into the spot next to her.

“For you, “she traded a glance with Walt, then Sal, “and you, I’m in. No matter what.”

They raised their glasses then proceeded to drink.

Conversation was light, and no one forces anything. In the background, modern rock plays from the speakers mixed with some classics. Slate people watches as she drinks, and soon round two makes it to the table, this time on her dime.

Back at Walt’s place, late that night

Slate dropped down on the couch with a sigh. With three rounds of drinks in her system, she's feeling a little drunk and thankful for her newly cleared mind. Walt plopped himself down next to her. By the time Slate looks at him, he’s got a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Thanks for letting me crash here, Walt."

“Least I could do.” He put the lighter on the side table.

Slate examines his face closely and grabs his chin, Walt stilled under her touch. “Hey, you sleeping?”

“I sleep fine.”

“Okay, sure,” she releases his face and moves her attentions to her socks. Rising one leg at a time, she peels them off as Walt watches.

Walt clears his throat, then settles his gaze on the cigarette smoke. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nah, it’s your place, couch is fine.”

Walt took a long drag of the cigarette, then blew out a puff of smoke, “take the bed.”

Slate shifted on the couch so she could face him, "fine, if you insist.”

She studies his profile as he stares at nothing. He looks dead tired, but Walt never looked refreshed either, not really. He got close a few times and looks like a new man when he does get some sleep and a diet consisting of more than beer, scotch and cigarettes. A couple years back, he had about 10 more pounds on his thin frame. He was sleeping better too.

Slate understood better than anyone how stressful their job is. It has a way of taking its toll on everyone; physically, emotionally, mentally. As she studied him, Walt turned his head to look at her, his body is still facing forward.

One of the things Slate noticed about Walt early on is his large brown eyes, puppy dog eyes. Over the years they've been weighed down by so much stress, pain, and whatever else Walt buries deep within himself. His eyes hold back a turbulent storm of emotions and memories, all held in place by sheer will and stubbornness.

For those who know him well, Walt has another layer to his eyes. He always seemed on the verge of wanting to say something more than he does. Like part of him wants to open up, just a little. There’s this burning need deep inside of Walt and sometimes Slate just hugs him, unprompted, because he really fucking needs it.

So that's what she does next, she inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Walt laughed awkwardly at first, then breathed into it. Walt closes his eyes, then gripped her arm with a little squeeze. He inhaled deeply, savoring the contact, and the scent on her skin and hair.

“That bad huh?”

“Yeah, it’s just radiating off of you. Sad boy vibes thru and thru Breslin.”

Walt's eyes remained glued to her, “fuck off.” A hint a smile appeared, then disappeared from his lips.

“Yeah, fuck you too.” She smirked then released him from her arms.

Walt continues to regard her softly as she stands. “You have anything other than old take out and beer in the fridge?”

“Properly not.”

“Of course.” Slate shouted back as she headed into the kitchen.

It’s viewable from the living room, and Walt continues to smoke while watching her.

Slate closes the fridge and opens one of the cabinets, inside is a half empty bag of tortilla chips. “This will do.” She grabs the bag, a bowl, then returns to her spot on the couch.

“We’re going food shopping tomorrow; your skinny ass needs to eat.”

Walt laughed, “I do eat.”

“Cigarettes and beer, scotch for dessert. The Walt Breslin diet.”

“Asshole,” he nudged her with his elbow.

“I have one day left here, and we’re eating real food. Once I leave, you can go back to your shitty diet.”

“Thanks for looking out, I guess.” Walt chuckled and leaned into her, pressing his arm against hers.

She poured the chips into the bowl and before she could grab one, Walt grabs a handful. He grinned then shoved them into his mouth.

The two snacked in silence for a while. Eventually Walt gets up and leaves the room. When he returns, he’s carrying pictures in his right hand, the small kind you use for files.

“What's that?”

“Figured you want 'em, maybe for your picture wall or something,” he sits and hands her the photos, they’re all face down. Slate takes them. Her eyes lingered on Walts a little longer before she glanced down at the photos. “"I've seen that stack of photo album you have.”

“Hey, I love photo albums okay, don’t judge me, “she turns the first photo over. Instantly, her smile drops to a frown and Walt wonders if this was a mistake.

His intention was to do something nice; he was never really good at reading women or knowing what to get them, friend or more. Send him to another country to take down some bad guys, he's in his lane. But anything having to do with gifts, or women, or being emotionally open; he’s pretty rough around the edges there.

Slate swallows hard and sets the other photos down, her eyes are fixed on the same photo she now holds in two hands.

“Shit, I fucked up.” Walt reaches for the photo; she moves her hands out of his reach.

“No, it's- it's okay I,” she blows out a breath and looks Walt in the eyes, “I just, haven't seen his face since - he drove into a fucking tank…” she forced a laugh, “more metal than I’ll ever be, fucking asshole.”

When she blinks, a single tear rolls down her cheek. They both take the deaths hard, and though Walt had history with Ossie and knew him longer, once Ossie and Slate met, it was like long lost friends getting back together. It was hard to imagine they didn’t know each other already. They were instant best friends, and his death really fucked her up. Slate didn’t talk about the deaths, nor did Walt. They're alike that way.

“I miss this fucker, “Slate gently places the photo down on the coffee table in front of them. Ossie's grinning in it, fresh off some arrest and just smiling like he won the fucking lotto, classic Ossie.

Walt laid a hand on her shoulder, “I can take 'em back.”

“No. I want them. I want to remember their faces, “she meets Walt's waiting gaze, “add them to a photo album 'cause you know, I’m sentimental. “

A thin smile curved on Walt's lips; he gives her shoulder a little squeeze before taking his hand away.

“Thank you, Walt. For the photos."

Walt rubbed the back of his neck as relief washed over his face, “it was touch-and-go there, wasn't sure if I did good, or if you were about to clock me.”

“Maybe both?” She teased.

Slate breaks eye contact first and Walt continues to stare at her, “hey, is Sal leaving tomorrow?”

“Day after, same as you.”

“I have an idea," when she paused, Walt notices her eyes land on the photo again, "dinner, all three of us. Before we disperse into our little corners of the world again.”

“Then we definitely need take out. Have you ever seen me over a stove?” Walt raised a brow.

“I’ll cook, and no, you’d properly burn the kitchen down. You can be my sous chef.”

He scrubbed his hand over his chin, “I’m good at a few things, cooking isn't one of them.”

“That’s why you’ll be sous chef, leave the heavy lifting to me."

“Speaking of, still seeing that chef guy?”

“God no, that's done, he was more of a mess than I am.” Her eyes meet Walts, “Speaking of love lives, are you seeing anyone?”

Walt drops his eyes to his hands, he's fiddling with the lighter now, “no.”

Mexico was four months ago now, and in that time, Walt’s been keeping as busy as possible. His new job started out shitty, mostly paperwork. But when he finally got some foot action, it improved things, gave him less time to think. Less time to feel all the shit he doesn't want to feel.

In that time, he did reconnect briefly with an old associate and the two hooked up, twice. Walt tried to hold on to the comfort of those nights; having someone in his bed, a body next to his, warm soft skin to touch. The brief fling was a much-needed release for all his pent-up energy. Walt tried to not think about it, but he made amends with being a lonely guy a long time ago. Just, after Mexico, he’s feels lonelier than ever.

“Besides, “he picks up one of the last chips in the bowl, “if I had someone, I’d probably fuck it up. Better to just be alone.”

“Breslin, that's some depressing shit.”

He sits up and looks her in the eyes. His little shrug after is the real kicker.

Sad boy Walt Breslin.

Despite the thought, Slate doesn't judge him. She hadn't made the best decisions herself, specifically the Commander. And she figured she wasn't the best girlfriend material either. She has a lot of stuff to work on, and release before she can share herself with someone.

For now, as it has been, she sticks to fleeting sexual adventures and one-night stands. If Walt knew about the Calderoni thing, she’d never hear the end of it, it’s one of her big dark secrets and she intends to keep it that way.

“I’m not much better, “her voice is so low he leans in to hear her better, “I’m damaged goods too. Properly wouldn't even know what to do in a relationship at this point.” She leaned back on the couch and brought her knees to her chest, “thank god for hot dudes who don’t need conversation or heart to hearts.”

“At least one of us has been getting laid, congrats.” He holds the chip out to her, then eats it.

Slate rests her gaze on the wall ahead.

A minute or so passes before Walt asks, “if you got the opportunity to go back, to do more, would you?”

“Hell no.” She replied swiftly. “No way.”

Walt grinned, “I can understand that.”

“We did what we did, it ended how it ended. I have no reason to ever go back.” Slate gets a faraway look in her eyes; one Walt has seen before. “You would,” Walt quirks a brow, “go back I mean. Think you’re the only one who would.”

Walt doesn’t reply, because she's right. Even if the commonsense part of his brain is telling him to stay his ass on this side of the border, he knows, if given the chance, he’d be on a plane and right back into the madness. Sometimes, Walt wondered if that was the only way he could really exist. He still finds himself struggling a bit in mundane regular life. Still, there is a part of him he keeps deeply hidden, a part of him that craves more but he won't let himself have it.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, both swimming in their own thoughts and observations about things. Some time passes before Slate breaks it,

“Sometimes I think I need to talk to someone about all the shit that went down, not just Mexico, before that too. “She pauses, Walt's eyes are on her again, “my family didn't believe in therapy…funny how family shit has a way of settling into your bones. Next thing you know, you're perpetuating the same patterns.”

Walt frowns, but it feels more personal to him, and whatever is going on in his head right now.

“I’m thinking about getting a therapist.”

“Hope that works out.”

Her gaze falls to his bouncing leg, “You should think about it too, Walt.”

“Nah, me and my problems are my business," Walt touches his chest, "I’m fine.”

“Walt,” She gently places a hand over his, “seriously, as your friend, you should consider it. We can do a friendship pack, make sure we stay accountable.”

He shakes his head, no, “Slate, it aint gonna happen.”

She frowns and lifts her hand; his eyes follow the movement of her hand from his leg to her own. He can see the disappointment written all over her face and wishes he had a better answer for her, but to say anything else would be a lie. He's impressed she's even considering it, it's a mature move. Walt also doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so changes the subject.

“How they treating you in New York?”

“Alright. It’s a big department, the shit jobs suck but honestly, don’t know if I can handle anything high risk right now.” she replied, taking note of his subject change but not commenting on it.

“Well,” Walt stands up and stretches, “if you ever get sick of it, I could get you in here.”

Slate smiled, “Miss having your buddies around? You know they didn't put us in the same place on purpose.”

“I know, fuck them. You, me, Sal in the same place again. Let's make it happen.” His tone raises a little as his excitement grows," think I can get Jaime on board."

Slate stands too and stretches out her legs. “No one knows me back east, it's kind of nice.”

“Can't fault you on that.”

“Well see,” she pats his arm, “maybe I'll change my mind.” they look at each other for a moment, “I'm pretty beat, going to take over your bedroom now.”

“Please do,” Walt steps aside and motions to the hallway, “changed the sheets for you and everything. “

“Wow, hotel level service at the Breslin, lucky me.” Slate heads toward the hall and glances at him over her shoulder, “nite Walt.”

“Goodnight, Slate.”

Dinner the next night

Sal ate another bite of food then dropped the fork, “Slate, you were holding out on us. This is delicious.”

“I couldn't really whip up a meal in an old warehouse, could I?” She smiled as she carried a glass of water to the table.

“Shit, we could have made it work, if we were going to eat like this.” Walt takes a big bite; he looks like a chipmunk.

“Thanks,” She takes a moment to watch them eating, enjoying the looks on their faces and the sounds leaving their mouths.

She liked to cook, didn't do it often, but when she had time, and if she was in the mood, it was a whole thing. And though only a small amount of people in her life were able to see this part of her, she knows food is one of her love languages. Making it, offering it, asking if someone ate. After everything the three have been through together, this feels extra special, and even if it's just for one night, she’s glad they get to share this.

Slate knew Sal through Walt. She met him about 3 years back after her transfer to Houston. They even worked a few jobs together, but he mostly worked with Walt. When Walt’s brother died, Sal and Slate were there for him. The two sat with him all night. Walt was gone, he didn’t talk, he didn’t cry, he didn’t say a word; he just stared at the wall and ran through half a pack of cigarettes.

-Flashback - 2.5 years ago Houston, Texas -

Slate stepped away from the car and stood before Sal, neither spoke as he raised the radio to his mouth.

“Walt, we need you at 3500 Lockwood right now.” He lifted his finger from the button.

Slate looked over her shoulder at the car again, “This is gonna fuck him up Sal.”

“ I know - “Sal paused as Walt’s voice came through the radio, they can hear music in the background.

“Sal, what is it?” Walt asked.

“It’s your brother.”

“I’m on my way.”

Slate rested her hands on her hips as she paced. There was nothing left to do, just wait for Walt's arrival.

A few short minutes later, the sound of screeching tires pulled their attention to the street. Walt’s jeep came to a stop, and he flung himself out; concern written all over his face as he makes his way through the crowd, and under the tape. After Walt flashed his D.E.A badge to the cop, he approached the crime scene, Sal and Slate walked over to him.

“Walt - “Sal started, but Walt kept walking, his eyes fixed on his brothers' car.

Sal and Slate stay closed but gave him space as he approached the car. Walt used the sleeve of his jacket and grabbed the car door. Opening it, he crouched down, and took a closer look at his brother. He's dead in the driver's seat, eyes closed, blood splattered on the window glass. Cocaine and a pack of cigarettes on the passenger seat. The red and blue lights from the police car continued to flash, coloring Walt and the inside of the car.

Sal approached first and shakes his head regretfully, “I'm sorry man.”

They continued to stare at Walts back, he went completely still. Slate swallowed then called his name. Walt got up and stalked away from the car, not saying a word or looking at either of them.

“Fuck.” Slate turned to Sal,” what do we do?”

“Nothing we can do. Not right now at least…go, keep an eye on him. I’ll catch up.”

Slate nodded then headed off after Walt.

- Flashback over -

To this day, Walt doesn't talk about that night, or his brother. But he did thank them one night as they had a few rounds,

“Thank you being there, means a lot.” Six words. Six words with a whole lot of weight behind them.

Slate knew, their shared history was only one of the many reasons he asked them to Mexico. He handpicked everyone on his team. It made the loss of their guys; Ossie, Danilo and Amat even harder. They weren't strangers, they were people Walt knew.

For Slate, she only knew Sal, and Daryl vaguely. Everyone else she met for the first time on the job. In their time together, they became a dysfunctional- functional family. Even years from now, she knows she’ll still miss them, even the ones she didn’t get to know that well.

During this dinner, as they eat, drink, joke and laugh, she misses them. She can imagine them at the table; Ossie to her left making a joke or fucking with someone, Amat across the way with a smile that reaches his eyes as he enjoys himself, and Danilo with a beer in his hand, listening but not saying much.

The ghost of their three fallen friends fills the room, they're here, she can feel it. Slate's eyes drift to the box of playing cards on the counter, and a memory comes rushing back.

- Flashback -

“Oh, come on!” Slate throws her cards down on the table. Amat smiles and sits back in the chair with a proud grin.

“I won.”

“No, best of three, let's go - “she grabs the cards and shuffles them again.

“She’s a sore loser, I warned you.” Ossie shouted from where he’s sitting, he looks like a kid hanging from a jungle gym.

Slate doesn't look up but frees on hand to flip him off. She gets a chuckle out of Sal whose reclining on the couch.

“I got the green light.” Walt strolled into the room, a coffee cup in his hand. "This is it.”

Ossie cheers before jumping down to ground level, “Whoo-hoo!”

Walt stops at the table where Slate and Amat were playing cards. Daryl comes over, a beer in his right hand. He's chewing the last of his lunch. Danilo is off to the left, but still close enough to see and hear everything going on.

“The golden ticket, the whole reason we’re down here. We know where he is, so today we go get him.”

Daryl asked, “what about the army?”

“Not leaving. We go in guns-a-blazing we’ll get eaten alive, so we gotta do this one different.”

Stale looks to Walt,” what's the play? After Verdin, shits loud. We gotta be careful.”

“I fucked up, shit got a whole lot harder. We’re on their radar, our only advantage is they don't know our identities yet. We’re in this fight, so let’s finish it.”

-Flashback over-

“Too bad Daryl couldn’t make it.” Sal commented, it pulls Slate out of her thoughts and memories.

“Smash and grab crew, back together.” Walt grins before taking a drink of his beer.

“His girl is pregnant right? Daryl?” Slate asked.

“Yeah,” Walt answers, “our boys about he be a family man.”

“Cheers to that. After everything, we deserve all the good we can get.” Sal raises his beer, Walt and Slate do the same.

Later that night

“Can't believe he's asleep already.” Slate observes Sal, he's knocked out on the couch, his mouth slightly open. She glances at Walt who’s sitting on the side of the armchair.

“Should we draw on him?” A childlike grin brightens Walt's face.

“Fuck yes we should!” Slate is first on her feet and looks around for a marker. She finds one and creeps over to the couch, barely holding back a laugh.

“He’s going to kill us.”

“For sure.” She whispered back then kneels down. She inches close to Sal's face and pops the cap off the marker. She can hear Walt in the back, trying his best not to laugh. Slate draws a curly mustache on Sal's cheeks.

Walt peers over her shoulder.

Slate looks at him, “If Ossie was here, he’d draw a dick.”

Walt catches his laugh in his hands.

Slate opens the marker again, “I'm gonna draw a cock for Ossie.” she examines Sal, then settles on his forehead. Walt can't contain his laugher and leaves the room.

The suppressed laugh is making her body shake. After she finishes, Slate caps the marker then goes to the hallway toward the bedroom, where Walt is curled over laughing.

“What next Breslin, I’m too amped to sleep?” She tosses the marker at him.

“I know I'm not fallin' asleep on your watch, not with this fucking marker.” Walt tucks it in his back pocket.

Slate grins, “For the best, you'd wake up with something long and hard drawn next to your mouth."

“You would do that,” Walt takes a breath and glances at the clock on the wall.

“I have an idea, its genius, hear me out,” she drapes one arm over his shoulders, “let's go out, I’ll be your wingman.”

Walt moistens his lips, then smiles.

“Oh, come on, today is one of the best we've had in a long time, I don’t want it to end. I know you don't either. So, let me play wingman, I bet you 20 bucks I can get you laid tonight. “

“I really regret making that comment now.” he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

“Oh, come on, don't be shy. I know you aren't. Let me help, I'm a damn good wingman.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, he can't look away.

Walt considers the offer. Truth is, it sounds like the perfect way to end the day and it's been a while, not that it's the longest he's gone without, there have been longer stretches.

Slate tightens her grip around his shoulders, “Come on, it will be fun."

Walt's expression grows serious, “I don't know Slate,”

“Is it weird because it's me?” she asks.

Walt starts to say something, then stops himself. He pulls it back, deep down inside of himself. Instead, he says, "today was nice. I think I’ll try to get some sleep though. And I'm holding on to this marker." He patted his back pocket.

“Really?” she pouts.

Walt lifts her arm from his shoulders, “yes, I suck I know.”

“The nights young.” Slate tugs on his shift.

“And I'm not,” he offers a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, “I'm taking the armchair, fell asleep in that thing plenty of times before. Bedrooms still yours.”

Slate leans back against the wall, her eyes searching Walts, a very clear grimace on her lips.

“Don't give me that face, I know, “he steps into her space and ruffles her hair with his hand. “Get some sleep.”

“Fine,” she exhales dramatically, “I’m going to use your phone, I’ll be quiet so the old man can sleep."

He laughs at the last part, “Its midnight. Who the hell you callin' at midnight?”

“Joaquin will be up; I need something to do.”

“Who's Joaquin?” Walt rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, “she shakes her head, “just this guy."

“A boyfriend?” he asked quietly.

“I wouldn't call him that," her eyes drift to a photo on the wall, it's a generic art print, likely came with the place and Walt never took it down. She adds, "

“We hang out, nothing official.” When her eyes travel back to Walt, it gives her pause, now he looks disappointed. “Hey, massive mood shift, you okay Breslin?”

“Fine, tired.” He muttered, then turned toward the living room. “Good night, Slate.”

She watches him leave, then heads to the bedroom. Once she's inside, a flash of clarity takes over her buzzed mind. Was Walt disappointed because she mentioned Joaquin? Walt never cared about that kind of thing, and they've been friends for years. They've spoken casually about dates they've had before and he never seemed to have a reaction, not until now. Or maybe she was over thinking it. Maybe he was just put off by the phone call comment. it was midnight after all.

The next day, Slate wakes with a slight hangover, but it's easy to shake off. She finds a very pissed off Sal and helps him get the marker off his face. He eventually laughs about it, and she makes him breakfast as an apology.

Walt sleeps in, which was a surprise. But when he does wake, he seems far away and quieter than usual. It makes for an awkward morning, at least on that end. Once Sal heads out for his flight, it was just the two of them. Walt didn't say much, and instead of sticking around longer, Slate decided to head to the airport early. Walt dropped her off, and even their hug goodbye seemed off.

That Night, Slate back in NY

Stepping off the elevator, Slate stops before the mirror and checks out her outfit. Satisfied with what she sees, she takes a right and head to apartment 3C. Slate knocks on the door once more and it swings open. Joaquin peeks his head out, and drinks her up with his eyes, “fuck, I'm a lucky man."

Slate steps inside, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. She slides one hand in his hair and shuts the door closed with the other.

"I think you missed me." He whispered as their lips parted. Slate doesn't confirm, nor deny.

The kiss quickly escalates to a heated make out. When they break for air, Slate grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head and arms. Once he's shirtless, she lightly scratches his chest and moves to his belt buckle.

Joaquin grabs her face and looks into her eyes, "How was your trip?"

Slate undoes his belt and pulls it off in one impressive movement. She tosses it across the room, "no questions, keep kissing me.”

Later

Slate watches the curtains sway in the breeze, it's a nice night out and the moon is nearly full. She stretches her arms over her head and hums, her body is still buzzing.

Javier is starting at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. "I was thinking about something."

"Yeah?" She rolls onto her side to get a full view of him.

Often times she found herself just gazing at him. Besides being a great lay, Joaquin is nice to look at, and she likes his voice, she's always been a sucker for a man with a good voice. He rides a motorcycle and looks damn good in all black and a leather jacket, as long as he didn't want more from her, she planned on keeping him around a while.

Meeting him was an unexpected treat, she was at a bar, not to meet anyone, just to drink away her Calderoni problem and say goodbye to her short lived and ill-fated tryst with the hot chef. She was at the bar about 30 minutes when Joaquin entered. He wasted no time introducing himself, and that same night they slept together for what became the first of many times.

"Hey, did you hear me?" He asked gently as he caresses her arm.

"Repeat that?" She brings herself back to the present moment.

"It's been two months now, I still don't know anything about you, except what you told me."

"I prefer to remain mysterious." She winks at him.

Joaquin sits up, opens the top side drawer and pulls something out; it's a preroll. He feels around on the table for a lighter, finds it, then lights the joint.

“Every time I light one of these up, I wonder if you’re going to arrest me.”

“I could if you want me too,” she smirked, then took a hit of it.

Joaquin watches her with a grin, "I'm going for a long ride tomorrow, want to come. Out to Hudson."

"Sure, I'm off, unless I get called in," she hands it back, "but I should be free."

"Cool," Joaquin caresses her face, "it's a plan."

Two days later

After crossing everything off her list for the day, Slate found herself thinking about the photos from Walt. Heading to the bedroom, she pulled them out the drawer she tucked them in and sat at her vanity table. She placed then down one by one; Ossie, Amat, Danilo.

- Flashback-

“Sure you’re up to this? We’re in this with our lives, if shit goes down, it could be worse for you.”

Slate continued peeling the label off the bottle. She took her time but eventually made eye contact with Danilo. It's short lived, her eyes then follow the puff of smoke from his cigarette.

“I know the risks. No way I can do this job and not know that."

Danilo nods and continues to smoke.

Slate lowers herself to the ground, sits, then knocks back the rest of her beer.

“How long you’ve known Walt?”

“Shit, about, 11 years?” She glanced up at Danilo, "on and off, we weren't always around each other the whole time.”

“Fucker gets a round, doesn’t he.” Ossie jumped in as he steps outside, wearing a joker's gin and holding a beer.

“Yeah, lots of notches on his belt.” Slate replied. Her eyes jumped to Danilo, who seemed indifferent.

“Was it dinner and a movie, or straight to fucking?” Ossie barely keeps a straight face as he asked.

“Jesus.” Danilo sighed, then headed back inside.

Ossie chuckled as he watched him disappear inside. He takes a seat on the ground beside her.

Slate twist her neck to look at him, “Dinner and a movie, I got the whole 9. You?”

“Nah straight to it, Walt's a man of little words.”

They both laugh at Ossie's response. As the laughter dies down, they grow quiet and listen to the sounds of the night.

Eventually, Ossie said, "Must feel weird, being the only chic here.”

“Naw, used to it. This happens a lot.'' She puts the bottle down between her legs. Ossie nods, then lights a cigarette, "I smell like smoke all the time because of you guys.”

“Should join the fun.” he offers her the cigarette,

Slate pushes his hand away, “Hard pass.”

- Flashback over -

Pictures in hand, Slate headed to the living room and stopped in front of her photo collage, it's full of familiar faces, friends, her youth, and more. Taking her time, she adds each photo to the collage then takes a step back to review it. As she steps away from it, her phone rings. Slate heads to the wall and answers, her ear is met with a familiar voice,

“Hey.”

“Hey, Walt."

“I uh,” from the sound of his voice alone, she can imagine Walt leaning against his counter, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “That case I told you about; the hearing was today.”

“How'd, it go?” She sat on the floor.

“Good, we got the bastards.”

She hears the excitement in his voice, and it makes her smile, “Congrats, you should be celebrating. I hope you are.”

“One man party right here, drinks and all, “Walt goes silent, and Slate just listens, waiting for him to continue.

She tried to call him when she got back, but he either wasn't there or didn’t pick up. That was three days ago now. The awkwardness in the air when she left still hasn't been addressed. She wasn't mad at Walt for not saying anything, she didn’t know what to say either.

“Slate, I was wondering’ - “Walt stops himself.

“Wondering what?”

He doesn't reply.

Slate knew this call could be one of two things, one, his way of saying he needed someone to talk to. Walt never asked for a friendly ear, instead he'd call about something else, or talk to you about work, or invite you for drinks on him. This could be one of those calls, or he could be the one ready to address their awkward goodbye.

The longer his silence goes on, the more curious she grows, “wondering what, Walt?”

“Ah, nothing, just, work stuff…it was good having you out here.”

Slate closes her eyes and rests her head back against the wall. “Yeah, it was nice Walt.”

“I’m gonna go, have yourself a goodnight.”

“Yeah, you too Breslin.” she listens for a click sound, it doesn't come. Slate can still hear him on the other side listening to her, the same as she's listening to him.

Feeling overwhelmed, Slate stands and whispers goodnight into the receiver once more before hanging up the phone.

Next

Might be interested. If not, I can remove the tag ;) chapter 2&3 are on A03 as well @yourlocalspacewitxch @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

Joaquin FC (Slates new side piece)

#Walt Breslin #sal orozco #narcos Mexico

[thvnderdraws]

one thing i would like to elaborate on is why the Karma twins joined Night’s gang in the first place.

to start off, Serif never knew they were joining. she had been knocked unconscious from the explosion that destroyed the building they were in.

as for Karma, he agreed to Nightmare’s terms to one, have shelter and be able to stay away from Gaster. two, learn how to get better control of their magic. and three, keep Serif safe in the meantime.

Karma’s only motive is to destroy Gaster and all that he stood for. he wasn’t in the building when it had been blown to bits, and Karma wants justice for what he did. (hence ‘karma always comes back to get you’)

as far as Serif is concerned, she just wants a place to belong and be accepted. does it matter if the only people that accept her are a-little-more-than-crazy group of murderers? nah, she likes them regardless.

at first, Serif and Karma don’t know what AUs are. the first time Nightmare gave them a mission they had no idea what to do, so Night just had them observe the others for a few missions until they understood the gist of things.

since the twins can’t read, it’s usually Cross that reads their missions/mission reports to them. (Serif is currently in the process of begging Nightmare to teach her how to read and write)

once they had joined, they both insisted on sharing a room together, to which Nightmare declined until he learned they had been sneaking into one another’s rooms at night. he later complied (even though he loved the negativity when they were separated)

as far as every day life goes at the castle, Serif spends most of her time wandering around the castle (then immediately getting lost and having to wait until someone finds her. it’s usually Dust) and trying to get control of her haywire magic. she usually asks Cross for help, since he’s patient. (only when the gang isn’t looking, he hates being called soft)

Karma spend most of his spare time in the garden or sleeping. he’s pretty lazy, his side of the shared bedroom is a mess. he’ll train most of the time, but he only trains with Serif. (he doesn’t trust the others. if Serif is on a solo mission he’ll just ask Cross, albeit reluctantly)

as far as their relationship with the gang goes, Serif is the only one who goes out her way to actually try and get Dust to talk. which he does, a little bit.

Karma is not social at all. he’ll bluntly reply to the guys or walk away like he didn’t hear them. unless it’s Nightmare; he knows he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t acknowledge him.

i know i mentioned Serif having some humans of her own that aren’t really there, and that’s because of the souls that were injected into her. Karma has them too, but he ignores them, so they went away.

Serif talks to them whenever she can. doesn’t really matter if anyone’s standing next to her, she’ll start up a conversation in the middle of dinner or if Nightmare is talking. she’s gotten in trouble, but the only punishment she’s gotten is having to clean up after everyone. (she ended up cleaning everyone’s rooms without asking. Killer walked in on her cleaning his room. he just stared at her until she noticed and made sure she didn’t go near the closet and find the trapdoor in there)

Serif eventually found out where those feint, ominous screams came from. she didn’t really care, though. she’s heard worse.

Karma is pretty quiet—like Dust, but he only talks to either insult someone or tell them off for saying something to Serif, to which she (lightly) slaps the back of his skull

congrats! you’ve made it through this extremely long post! here’s a potato :)

also—thank you so so so much for letting me rant about KarmaTale, it’s helped me sort out a lot of things i was having a hard time with, such as shaping personalities and developing Karma’s motives a bit more. i’ve already begun storyboarding the beginning of KarmaTale so i can work on animating soon-ish, and i’ll be sure to send you the link on YT when i post the first episode!!

i love learning about them !!!! serif and karma are my beloveds 🥺🥺

and dw !! i like reading about new aus, i’m glad i could help <3

#thunder says #skeletoonz-official

[crazedlunatic]

Robbie

“You have a degree in Anthropology.”

“You’re just jealous that I get to help find di-no-saur bones.”

“Why would I be jealous of that? Your dad is right. You’re crazy.”

“Nope. Just the youngest and cutest so I got away with more.”

Sarah’s younger brother, who was living with them and sitting in the living room, turned back and grinned at Robbie. “Do it!”

“What’s your dad going to say?” Sarah asked

“I already talked to him. He thinks it’s a great idea.” Robbie responded.

“What did your mom say?” Sarah pushed.

“Does that really make a difference? I’m still going to do it. She acted as if the fossils would come back to life and eat me or something.”

“But what did she say?”

“Before or after I told her I was going to do it anyway?”

“After.”

“She was disowning me if I became a museum curator. Everyone has known my plan since high school. First, do as little as possible in undergrad to get the credits and look smarter than I am with an anthropology major—4.0 check. Play basketball so I won’t be completely goofing off— kind of checked but still passed.”

Sarah sighed. “Yes. You did the lazy way. I hate that you retain all this knowledge and I must work my butt off.”

“Work smarter, not harder.” Robbie gestured with his hands—the same gesture his dad made when his mother was annoyed at him.

“Think carefully about the next question.” Sarah said.

“Uh oh.” Sarah’s brother said. “She’s got you now.”

“She thinks she does.” Robbie contradicted.

“Timeline of when you’ll have a job. Are there openings? Have you even created a resume?” Sarah asked.

“With the experience…”

“None.” Sarah’s brother laughed.

“You’re not wrong.” Robbie agreed, also laughing. “But when I get the –"

“Again.” Sarah said impatiently. “Timeline for when you get back… how long will it take you to find a job? I’m assuming ‘Dug up dinosaur femur’ will not help you with 99.9999% of the jobs you’ll need to bring in actual money.”

“Then I will have had a very fun experience before realizing I’ll probably have to be a farm hand or something until I die?” Robbie grinned. “We can move in with my parents again. It’ll be fun.”

“I liked you better before you played college basketball and got more confidence.” Sarah sighed. “You were so quiet.”

“Not enough confidence to make me unanxious the whole time buuuuut are you okay with me going…?” Robbie asked.

“I need a good back up option before I’ll seriously think about it.”

“If dinosaurs and museums don’t work out, then I’ll go to Harvard with Jake.”

“Harvard for… what degree? Jake got into law school.”

“I’m good at arguing… only sometimes not when it’s against you.”

Sarah opened her mouth a few times but couldn’t form words. Because, what?

“What?”

“First of all, you’re scary when you’re pissed. That’s the only rebuttal.”

“Robbie…”

“You don’t think I can do Harvard Law?” Robbie asked. “I know what you’re doing. Setting up an argument if I can’t find real work within three months of my savings running out.”

“Robbie, you don’t have savings. We had to scramble for rent last month.”

“You don’t think I can do it.”

“You hate speaking to people on the phone let alone one on one. How will you do that in front of a room of people when you run out of time and must actually get this law degree which you’re betting on?” Sarah asked.

“I’ll up my anxiety and depression medicine.” He pointed at her. “And if I do lose and can’t be a curator, it’ll be something else you say you can do better than me. Right?”

“… you already had this exact argument with your dad, didn’t you? And he came up with the bit about how you didn’t take school as seriously as Jake did and thinking your grades wouldn’t be good enough?”

“Nah. My grades are all high passes.”

“How mad is your dad at that?” Sarah’s brother asked.

“Oh he’s livid I got a 4.2 GPA.” Robbie grinned. “He even still bet against me which means I really do have to follow through with law school if I don’t get a curator job. I can’t wait to see his face when I get accepted into Harvard Law and then not accept because I get to play with dinosaur bones all day… you know what I mean.”

“What if I said I was pregnant?” Sarah asked.

“I’d call bullshit because you always get acne on your period.”

“Fine.” Sarah sighed. “But when you graduate Harvard Law, you better pay off my school loans too, Robbie.”

….

“What are you doing? You got job offers at four huge museums!”

Robbie didn’t say anything, just stared at his packet.

“You should be gloating. Where is the gloat?” Sarah asked.

Robbie looked up, a weird expression on his face.

“Oh no. What happened?”

“They figured out what’s going on with Dad.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with why you’re accepting the Harvard invitation?”

“It’s Parkinson's. I can’t accept the Smithsonian. It’s 13 hours away. Cambridge is 6. If something… if it gets bad…” Robbie trailed off.

“Oh no.” Sarah frowned, dropping into the seat next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve been telling him for two years to go to the doctor. My brothers won’t help Mom. Mallory just graduated Harvard Law and already has a job so she can’t help. My brothers are essentially useless. Mom’s got carpal tunnel. She… she needs me to be closer because—”

“We will get it figured out. You don’t have to go to Harvard Law. I wasn’t serious about the bet, Robbie. Can we just go on a walk and calm down a bit? Don’t make life altering decisions right now, okay?”

“I have to be close, Sar. My brothers won’t show up for them. They won’t.” Robbie said, trying to ward off the panic attack that was already trying to start up. “Mom’s having wrist issues and Dad has—"

“You don’t just become a lawyer to be closer. You can take a break from school until we know what’s going on.”

“I’m accepting the invitation to Harvard.” Robbie’s voice was a bit shaky.

“Robbie… no one expects you to do this. I’ll be in Maine for school. I can do it. I can help your mom with him… but he may not even be to that point yet, okay?” Sarah’s voice was gentle.

“I can’t lose my dad. I can’t. I need to be close. I… I already turned down all the curator job offers when I found out. It’s the only way for now… I don’t know. Maybe I can get a law degree and if things are going well… just…” Robbie trailed off.

“Come on. Let’s go on a walk and get some fresh air.”

“You sure we aren’t pregnant?” Robbie asked.

“… Not that I know of.”

“Good. Can we go on a run then?”

“It’s a good thing you’re hot, Robbie.” Sarah teased hoping to at least get a forced smile.

“Sorry. I’m trying really hard to not have a panic attack right now and if we don’t get out of this apartment soon, I’m going to lose it. You’re sure we’re not pregnant, right?”

“I mean four negative tests say no. We were waiting until after grad school anyway, remember?”

“Yeah. What if I get Parkinson’s?”

“It’s hereditary but it doesn’t mean you’ll have it. I mean, your three brothers don’t have it. Mallory’s probably too young to have signs if she did.” Sarah bit her lip. She then added, “Your parents would love us being pregnant but we’ve still got the plan, right? Finish up grad school and whoever gets a better paying position is where we’ll go.”

Robbie nodded and let out a deep breath.

“What?”

“I really don’t want to be a lawyer, Sar… and I was kind of hoping you might be pregnant.”

“I was too after losing..."” Sarah’s voice was soft as she trailed off. She then added, “Even if I was pregnant, we could still go on our runs together.”

“I can’t lose my dad.” Robbie bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling.

“We need more information, okay? It’s probably not advanced too far. He seemed fine last week.” Sarah ran her fingers through his hair.

“What happens when it gets bad?”

“They move in with us. We take care of them together. We get help.”

“Until then? I’m supposed to act like everything is fine?”

“Around them.” Sarah nodded, her voice gentle. “But me, Jake and Liz?  We’ve all got your back and we’re not going anywhere. And Mallory. You’re so close to her even if she drives you nuts sometimes.”

“It could take years and years, right? That’s what Mama said.” Bob asked.

“Usually, yes.” Sarah nodded.

Robbie took in three deep breaths, trying to ward off the tightness in his chest that always happened before a bad panic attack.

“Go on. Get your running shoes and we’ll go on a run.” Sarah’s voice was still gentle. “We’ll get through this.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

#baby (not so baby) Bob and Sarah #bob bob bob #wbuct drabble

[tobyfoxmademeascaly]

12, 14, 25, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30!

Oh good golly thats a lot

1. How protective is your character over their possessions and/or loved ones?

Lets just say that if Zenos had decided to do something like threaten the Leveilleur twins in order to get his rematch, then by the end of it, there would not be enough left of him to ever try that shit again.

2. How stubborn is your character?

Yes.

3. Is your character more defensive or offensive when in battle?

Considering that i play the Unga Bunga Class (warrior) and enjoy it too much for me to consider Lazy as canonically anything else, she leans HEAVY onto the offense side of things

4. How difficult is it to earn your character’s love?

Honestly, not very. Just being Around and not directly antagonistic for long enough would get you to the

5. Does your character separate love and sex or do they tie them together?

You see to do either of those things you actually have to think about romance or sex

6. How romantic is your character?

Pretty thoroughly Not (💚🤍🖤)

7. When it comes to formal education, does your character have any goals?

Nah. Unless playing rubber duck to a student or professor counts.

8. Does your character enjoy reading? If so, what kind of books?

Not a lot of reading done here, I’ll be honest. Unless orchestrion rolls can be made into audiobooks.

9. How important is education to your character?

Basically not at all, considering that the scions, most of whom have (Final) Fantasy PhDs, are playing hot potato with about 3 brain cells total, same as everyone else on this bitch of an Eitherys/Hydealyn

10. Does your character believe in fate?

Bit hard to believe in either end of the scale when your catboy buddy averted the apocalypse via time travel but also you have time traveled yourself but turned out to be fulfilling a stable time loop. Short answer is ???? Who The Fuck Knows

11. Do you think your character is lucky or unlucky? What do they think?

Lazy would consider herself pretty lucky, being a proud assistant to the artist Alphinaud. (And it’s a bit difficult to describe being a famous and nigh-unstoppable hero as unlucky)

12. Describe an instance where your character experienced a direct consequence of the ‘butterfly effect’.

Does “taking a boat to Limsa leading to finding out about evil demigod sorcerers that want to make an anti-god and then from there ending up a hero across multiple worlds and also getting attached to two kids” count?

13. Is there a place they haven’t seen that they wish to see before they die?

Meracydia (I Would Also Like To See It)

(14 has already been answered)

(Also I’m going to assume you meant 24 and not 25 twice)

24. Would your character sink a ship if it meant dragging their enemies down with them?

Depends. She finds that there are generally better ways to bring her enemies down than with her, but if it means that Zenos or Nhaza’a Jaab stay the fuck in their graves this time then maybe.

25. In general. how curious is your character?*

26. Do they mind their own business or are they nosy when it comes to other’s affairs?

Generally minds her own business. Though a tendency to meddle has developed from necessity because some people (glares at Urianger and G’raha) keep having secret plans that they don’t tell anyone about.

27. Describe a situation where curiosity got them in trouble. *

28. How materialistic is your character?

Not at all in the “I like Things because they show my Societal Status” way, a fair bit in the “I like Things because They Spark Joy” way

29. Is your character frugal or do they tend to be extravagant?

Frugal, but less out of an active attempt to save money and more from just not really wanting anything all that extravagant.

30. Is there something they’d trade anything for? If so, what?

Nothing she’d trade literally anything for, because terms and conditions like that are just begging for the thing asked to be something ridiculous like the lives of every person you’ve ever loved.

But something she’d be willing to give, say, her own life for? That’d be the twins’ safety and success. Luckily that cause is better served with her alive.

*Welp its been several days and i still got nothing for these. Sorry

#asked and answered #ffxiv #lazy oak

[lunarticxenia]

Moon Signs Pt. 1

My take on moon signs based off people I know! Now personally, I tend to have more strong opinions on my favorite moon signs than favorite sun signs. I feel like moon signs really indicate more about a person’s personality than their sun sign, imo. It does rule emotions and behavior after all. With sun signs I struggle with picking favorites because I do genuinely have people I like of every zodiac sign. I just go by the number of people I like from each zodiac sign. Anyhoo, here’s my view on each moon sign! 

Note: These are p long bc I have such strong thoughts on moon signs so I’m splitting it into two parts. :) 

🍂 Aries Moon: Ahhh, my moon sign. I won’t be biased though, I promise. So Aries moons based off other people I know is that we low-key got anger issues LMAO. Every single Aries moon I’ve met besides myself has anger issues, with the exception of one person and she still gets irritated easily. Aries Moons are also extremely sensitive, and they tend to be overlooked for that since they’re fire signs. I’ve found that a lot of what they get angry about has to do with their feelings, if they feel they’ve been wronged this really can make them angry as they are super sensitive. They also get angry when they feel like people aren’t listening to them, as they take this very personally. I’ve also noticed that Aries moons are EXTREMELY honest, they will tell it how it is and they are extremely blunt. They don’t like to beat around the bush, and they are very direct with how they feel about something. Aries moons are also extremely passionate and spontaneous especially in relationships; they’re the ones who wanna kiss in the rain and ride horses into the sunset, that is if you can get them to settle down with you LMAO. Nah all jokes, they’re picky about who they want, but once they really fall for someone it’s very hard for them to let go. They’re also so competitive, they will play dirty. My grandpa used to let me win in checkers as a kid, my dad (who’s an Aries moon) NEVER let me win. He said me losing would help build character LMFAO. He just didn’t wanna lose.They also have strong personalities and can be SUPER impulsive. Also, if they wanna do something, they WILL do it. No one is gonna stop them. If they wanna go somewhere at 3am, they’re doing it. Sorry. You can’t stop them. LMAO. Aries moons also love to be in touch with their inner child, my dad is an Aries moon and bought himself an arcade machine out of nowhere LMAO. I also like to collect shells and watch Disney movies to remind me of my childhood. They also tend to change their views and opinions on things a lot, and mind you they have intense emotions about these things. So it can be hard to keep up w them. 

🍂 Taurus Moon: Taurus moons are just so calm, it’s scary LMAO. I know a few of them, and even if they’re anxious about something you can never tell. They always have this calm demeanor and just seem so unbothered by everything. Taurus moons also LOVE money and the finer things in life. The male Taurus moons I know work a lot just so they can have a lot of money. One of them literally said to me “Money talks” after explaining to me why they work 7 days a week, 12 hours a day doing two jobs. The crazy thing is, despite doing all that extra work, he just seemed so unbothered about it LMAO. The female Taurus moons I know tend to love really expensive clothes and dressing up. This Taurus moon I work with has such nice clothes and always dresses like she’s on a Vogue cover. Like I said, Taurus moons LOVE money and the finer things in life like expensive clothes. If they aren’t the types to dress up or be workaholics, they desire comfort. They would rather lay in bed and take hot bathes than be bothered to do all that extra stuff. They also might like to eat out at expensive restaurants, and are “foodies”. They also might be big lovers of music and have lots of different music tastes. Also, Taurus moons? STUBBORN. Good luck trying to get them to change their mind on something. Also, despite them wanting all the luxuries and comfort of life, they are SUPER grounded. They do not live in a dream world, they see life for what it is, and prefer to be on the ground than have their heads in the clouds. Also, Taurus moons, I’m sorry, but y’all can be lazy. I work with three of them, and they can be lazy. They will not do more than the bare minimum. Also, their anger is low-key scary. Especially since it can come out of nowhere since they’re calm all the time, you never know when they’re angry and if you catch them at the wrong time... well, rip. They also tend to be introverted- even if they’re social, you will not know anything about them unless you’re besties with them or related to them. Doesn’t matter how well you know them, they don’t air their dirty laundry and keep their private life private. Also one last thing, omg these people sing all the time. They love singing to themselves, every single one I’ve met does that LMAO. Anyway, love my Taurus moons. 

🍂 Gemini Moon: Gemini moons love to make people laugh LMAO and love to just sit down and have good talks with people. Their minds NEVER stop working. Good luck trying to get them to stop talking once they know you. They can and will talk about anything for hours. Now, I do admire that, but sometimes I just wanna relax and they won’t stop talking to me LMFAO. My dad’s girlfriend is a Gemini moon and at family gatherings she loves to dance around and try to get everyone else to dance. I find that Gemini moons are very active and love to move around, and try to get everyone to have fun. Definitely the life of the party. They’re super amusing and also love to tell jokes and funny stories. Now not all of them are extroverts especially if they have an earth sun sign. So that is something to consider. My cousin is a Gemini moon and tends to be more introverted, however, once she’s comfortable around someone and knows someone she’s super goofy and loves to make people laugh. Gemini moons also love to learn, they’re always teaching themselves about something. My cousin who’s a Gemini moon just randomly started teaching herself how to do sign language (she’s good at it also)! These people are also SUPER adaptable, they can get along with any kind of personality and can adapt to any situation. I’ve also noticed that they love to playfully roast people and annoy them LMAO. I have noticed that they struggle with reading the room, they tend to just continue to annoy someone and can take it too far, which can get kind of annoying. They’re also extremely curious and are always asking questions. They love to ask random questions without any context. It’s a quirk a lot of them have. Trying to tell a story to them can be frustrating because if you mention certain terms they’ll ask you what they mean LMFAO. My dad was telling a story about how he used surfing to explain physics concepts in class and his girlfriend asked what the concepts were and what they mean. Also, they’re really good at giving advice. These people would make great psychologists imo. This girl I used to talk to (who’s a Gemini moon) actually is becoming a psychologist, so there you go LMAO. 

🍂Cancer Moon: Oh Cancer moons...you guys are so sensitive. They feel everything and anything. I haven’t met a Cancer moon that isn’t an empath. They are extremely good at reading other people and sensing their motives. My mother is a Cancer moon, and she’s always been able to tell who’s toxic in my life. She doesn’t even have to meet them either, just based off of stories I tell her, she can pick it up right away. Now, everyone always says Cancer moons are super close with their family and that’s definitely not always the case. The Cancer moons I’ve met have actually had a lot of problems with their family. Now the thing that I’ve noticed with these placements is that despite how toxic their family is, they always stick by them. Even if they’re not close. So I wouldn’t say they’re all super close with their families, but they always stick up for them, which can be an issue if their family is toxic. Also, Cancer moons, SUPER MOODY. I’m sorry but like I’m a Cancer sun and they’re ten times more moody than I am LMFAO. I’ve always said they act more like the stereotypical Cancer than Cancer suns. Also, this is a super underrated placement for humor. Every Cancer moon I’ve met has been super funny. Also, a super underrated placement for anger issues. Everyone says oh yeah Aries moons have anger issues, like yes, BUT HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN CANCER MOON ANGER?! Y’all Taylor Swift is a Cancer moon and wrote a whole album about how fed up she was about the media mistreating her and the whole Kimye thing (rightfully so) but y’all see my point. They can and will fight you. They also tend to be introverted, even if they’re social, (which I rarely see), they would much rather keep to themselves. I’ve also noticed that they’re very nostalgic a lot. My Cancer moon ex used to just randomly go through childhood photos and would show them to me. They’re also EXTREMELY protective over people they love, they will KILL for the people they love. They also love to talk about their dream homes and interior decorating a lot? My Cancer moon ex was OBSESSED with coming up with his dream house and would literally draw out diagrams for me to see. My mother too, she wants to redecorate her apartment and was showing me all the potential furniture that was gonna be put in. Oh Cancer moons, LMAO. 

🍂 Leo Moon: Oh Leo moons. You guys can be so dramatic LMAO. Every Leo moon I’ve met is so dramatic; these are the types of people who get up and move around when telling a story and also do dramatic hand gestures. These are the types of people who post a black screen in middle school on Snapchat saying “Don’t hmu.” LMAO. My Leo moon friend gets so mad when I make that joke, but it’s so true. These people are also naturally super creative, the Leo moons I know love to decorate and draw. Even if they don’t do any outright creative hobbies, they have a creative streak to them. It’s weird though because despite them being very dramatic when it comes to them being angry, they struggle with expressing their personal problems to other people. (This however can be changed with other placements, but I’ve found this to be true in many cases). They don’t want people to think that they’re weak, so they put up a tough front to hide that they’re hurting. Also, Leo moons, are indeed the hype friends. My Leo moon friends gas up my Instagram posts so much. They’re also extremely loyal and don’t like to leave people out, they hate that kind of shit. They’re also extremely accepting of others, my Leo moon friend was the first person I came out to, and they accepted me right away. They also love to take pictures of EVERYTHING. Like when you go out with them, they will make you wait before eating your food so they can take video of your food together LMAO. They love to capture every moment, I personally find it very endearing. Also, a lot of people say Leo moons are super cocky. I don’t find this to be true. They can come off that way, but I’ve found they tend to actually be pretty insecure and they try to hide it by coming off as confident. I feel like Leo moons tend to put on a show a lot to hide how they truly feel, which makes it hard to get to know them. It makes me sad because they truly are such kind hearted people and all they want is to feel validation. I also found that they love to go above and beyond to make sure everyone else is happy and tend to put themselves last. I wish y’all didn’t do that, you deserve to be happy too. ;( 

🍂 Virgo Moon: Workaholics. That’s how I’m starting this LMAO. My friend is a Virgo moon and works her ass off. She goes above and beyond in school for starters. For this anatomy course we had together, she sent me a whole diagram she made of the human brain on Notability and it was so intricately made. She also works her ass off at her job and takes care of her siblings. I feel like this falls into Virgo placements putting others before themselves. Virgo moons are definitely the types to be like this. They want to make everyone happy and they want to feel useful so they do all these extra things to feel that way. Virgo moons are also super smart, and have the best study methods. Low-key jealous. They have this incredible drive and are always on top of things and have a routine. Also Virgo moons LOVE animals. My friend who’s a Virgo moon, works at a dog sitting business and has 6 pets at home. They LOVE animals. They also like honesty and bluntness; they will provide you with that as well. They don’t like beating around the bush or lying to make other people feel better. You wanna know if you look bad in a dress? Ask a Virgo moon, LMFAO. I’ve also found that they struggle with wanting to be perfect all the time, and struggle with anxiety. As I said, they want to be the best at everything, and this can be a big source of anxiety for them. These people also find themselves attracting people who they want to “fix”. They also give amazing advice and are super reliable. Also, last minute plans? They HATE them. Want a Virgo moon to hate you? Try making spontaneous plans with them LMAO. Virgo moons also have great memories; they’ll remember every little detail about you. Also Virgo moons are the types to take charge in a group project and run the whole thing because they don’t trust anyone. Virgo moons also always appear to be calm and collected, even though many of them frequently deal with anxiety a lot. Also, they’re low-key underrated for humor. They have a very dry and self-deprecating sense of humor LMAO. They also go above and beyond in relationships because they enjoy seeing the people they love being happy. 

Anyhoo, this wraps up part one!  Also these are just my opinions, so don’t get offended I tried to praise and drag all of them equally <3 

Part 2 here. 

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[tommyspeakycap]

omgg write something about playing or braiding jack’s hair

oh em gee I love this !!!!! I loved his hair braid too omg

Jack had a very specific barber he liked to go to to get the same quality haircut he always got. He trusted that specific barber and his appointments were always made in advance to absolutely ensure he could get it done the way he liked by whom he liked at the right time so it never got overgrown or hard to manage. Jack was very specific about his hair and about keeping it the way he liked it to be. It was part of his image, part of him really. The Brummie boy hated when anyone else touched it. Be that joking team members giving his head a teasing push or his dad ruffling his hair each time he walks in the door, it irks the living daylights right out of him.

So it seems as though it’s Jack’s own personal nightmare now the barbers are shut with absolutely no sign of opening up for at least another month and Jack can’t seem to take one minute more of training with his hair getting all up in his eyes, dropping into his face and blowing wildly in Birmingham wind even with a headband in. It is driving him absolutely insane. It’s all he can think of in this moment.

And that is because he currently has your fingers tangled in it completely absentmindedly as he lays in between with your legs with his legs stretched out along the L section of the L shaped couch. Your eyes are fully focussed on the storyline evolving throughout an old episode of Greys Anatomy. Jack’s arms are around your torso as his head rests comfortably on your lower stomach with his eyes peacefully shut. He would usually engage in the TV with you, but the preseason after an unexpected break that had him doing less exercise than he definitely should have been doing had him absolutely shattered.

It was rare for even you to touch the locks he took so laughably serious, but it felt like the most soothing experience he’d maybe ever had to feel the gentility of your finger massaging over his scalp in the most relaxing manner he’d ever known. Even his sports massages after long matches weren��t this relaxing.

“Mmmhm, feels so good.” He murmurs, his voice ticking your stomach as he speaks against it, the sigh that leaves him making you giggle in response. “So annoyin’ in training.” He adds tiredly, but not lacking in the obvious irritation he feels towards it. Jack tends to feel a lot and often, and even seemingly small things like his hair getting in the way of his play was unimaginably irritating for him.

“I could cut it?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” he snorts, “And end up like the poor dog? I’ll pass love.”

“Aw come on! It wasn’t that bad.” You retort

“He looked like a street rat with curls, sweetheart.” He laughs, despite the disappointment he feels for your hands leaving his hair for the first time since he lay down tonight.

“Cheek.”

“Sorry baby.” He lulls, finally looking up at you for the first time, lifting his face to offer you a smile that strained him. Holding his head up like that was too much for his already tired muscles, so he’s quickly laying his head back to its resting place. You can’t think of anything else to retort with, knowing full and well the incredibly poor state of affairs that occurred in your household three weeks into Lockdown 1 after you attempted to give the dog a haircut out of pure boredom and lack of open dog grooming services. The state of affairs being Jack crawling to the bathroom on his knees and one hand with the other hand holding onto his crotch because he was trying so hard not to wet himself from laughing at the poor pup who looked so confused that his dad hadn’t been able to greet him as normal when he returned from the weekly food shop.

Jack very nearly did piss on your good cream carpet that day, so it was fair for him to not trust your barber skills either. Especially being the way he is about his hair.

“You know the old episodes make me miss Derek.” You announce after a moment of only the television speaking between the two of you.

“He the one with the hair?” Jack mumbles. You snort a laugh.

“They’ve all got hair, Jack. Go on, say it then?”

“Fine,” he huffs indignantly, “The one with the good hair.”

Your giggle makes his heart erupt into butterflies that dance through his stomach and chest just like it does every single time he gets to be lucky enough to hear it. Jack doesn’t like to admit when others have hair he likes. He prefers to live in a world where his hairstyle is simply the best, and truly he usually does. He tends to live in his own world anyway. The world where his hair is fantastic, he gets to do what he loves for a living and come home to you each and every day. That’s his world and fucking hell does he love that world.

In reality though, part of that world is that however fictional Derek Shepherd may be, his hair is fantastic and always looks rather immaculate. Something Jack can’t quite relate to at this current moment in time. “You know this episode is kinda about his hair,” you note softly, hands smoothing back over your boyfriends brown locks. He knows by the tone of your voice that you’re going to go into more detail about the episode currently playing through on Amazon Prime TV. Some people may well have been annoyed listening to their girlfriends recounting entire episodes of TV shows that they weren’t exactly inclined to watch, but Jack was not one of those men. He didn’t care what you were talking about, just the sound of you talking was enough to make him listen intently. He loved to hear you talk, and if that was the only thing that he ever got to hear for the rest of his life then he’d still be happy.

“They adopted a little girl and he hasn’t quite figured her hair out yet but everyone’s shocked ‘cause his hairs pretty good. Like you, a little. You got good hair, just haven’t learned to manage it yet eh?” You explain, weaving your fingers in and out of those stands of hair that make him hum in both understanding and enjoyment. He isn’t sure what you’re doing, but the weaving of stands, pads of your fingers dancing over his scalp carefully, softly feels like what he might imagine heaven to be. “Yeah?” He asks, “And what does he do then?” His voice is filled with genuine interest for what you were saying. It was the first time you’d ever known that in a relationship. He heard you snigger softly to yourself. “He learns from someone who knows a bit more about hair than he does.” You state pointedly, prompting him to roll his eyes even if you can’t see him.

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, (y/n). Not happening, I’m sor-“

“Alright, Jack. I bloody know! That’s not what I meant.” You grumble. Jack can immediately imagine your disgruntled pout already, with those irritated narrowed eyes and the playful scrunch of your nose. “Sorry.” Every time he sees that look on you, he moves to kiss that furrow out of your nose. It makes his heart smile each and every time he sees it. You are simultaneously the most beautiful, more adorable and hottest woman he has ever laid his eyes on. “Sorry baby,” he reiterated, “Go on.”

“I could braid it for you?”

That earns a belly laugh from him that reverberates through your body, jostling with the force of his whole body laughter. “So you will,” he bellows in breaks between the ever comedic gasping from breath after each loud laugh. “Not a chance.”

He pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, trapping your legs between his as he looks down at you with a huge grin still stretching his lips and creasing his eyes, yet they still sparkle in adoration for you. “Oh yeah?” You muse with a giggle to follow despite the firm attempt to seal it behind clenched lips. The giggle sets those dimples into your cheeks, his eyes just drinking you up as you lounge back on the huge couch there in front of him, sinking back into the pillows just like he had been sinking against you in comfort for hours only moments ago. “Yeah.” He repeats firmly, the playful jest of his words not lost on your ears as he leans forward.

With the emission of only a small, surprised yelp from you that turns the head of the dog in his bed for only a moment, Jack has grabbed your legs to tug you down so you were laying flat on your back on the L of the sofa. He leans over you, hands and strong arms keeping him above you with ease. “Realllly?” You tease, one eyebrow quirked. Jack loves it when you do that, mostly because he can’t and he finds it beautifully funny.

Your hands reach up to his face, cupping over the beard on his cheeks to bring his face down to peck his lips before letting him press back up like a simple press up over your body. This was a common occurrence between the pair of you and Jack had always loved to show off. “Not cuttin’ about with a braid in my hair baby, sorry.”

He dips down for another kiss and you break out another giggle that parts your lips from his. “You already are, bub.”

“Ya what?” He pops straight up, sitting again back on his knees. “Not falling over your face now eh?” You taunt with a cheeky grin that makes him furrow his brows. Jack removed his hands from beside you to run one after the other over the top of his hair, a weird mix of a grin and disbelief washing over his face. Your sweetheart smile warms his heart as you lay there looking up at him with tired eyes and a lazy smile, cheeks flushed and one of his old cotton shirts keeping you warm long after his body raises from yours.

“Wait there!” He yells, bounding off the couch to all but leap through the living room until he reaches the mirror in the hall just outside the door. “Babe!” He cheers through the house, appearing back in the doorway of the room. “Nah it’s kinda cool, you fuckin’ smashed that!” You sit up and turn around towards him with your hand covering your mouth in a giggle that makes him stride forward and tug your hand away so he can see that beautiful smile. He jumps back again. “And look; stays in when I move around like-”

An immediate howl of laughter breaks out of your mouth with your head tipped back in hysterics as you watch him run on the spot, jump on the spot and then shake his head around like your puppy when he had a cone on his head. You laugh so hard your laughter looses its noise, simply existing as a elongated wheeze and a sudden gasp for desperate air to aid and allow for only more laughter. “Why you laughing for?” He yells, his words split by his own laughter as he tugs you to your feet, standing taller than him when your on your feet on the couch. Jack wraps one arm around your waist and moves the other down to the bend of your knees to sweep your legs from beneath you, perching you on the edge of the back of the couch.

“It,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “perfect.” Kiss.

“Just like you, baby.” He rumbles lowly, “Perfect just like my girl. Gonna wear it to training. Keep hair out my face, remind me of you, perfect.” He just keeps talking, keeps praising you between kisses while he brings you closer and closer to him until you can wrap your legs around him. Locked in place, he takes your face in his hands.

“So you’ll let me braid it again?” You chime, eyes lighting up. Jack chuckles, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “Course baby. Every day.”

True to his word Jack Grealish is. Every night he comes home from his training, he’s laying on the couch letting you massage the days stresses out of his mind, letting your fingers weave the tension out of his scalp. Jack’s never let anyone take care of him so much. He’s never felt comfortable to be taken care of like this, but you are his exception. His one single exception. And every morning he sits in the floor at the foot of the bed while you sit with a leg on either side of him, fingers weaving the strands into place for the day and tighter for match days. People make comments but Jack doesn’t give even half of a shit. His hair is how he likes it; out of his face so he can concentrate on his game and it gives you more of a reason to actually be up in the morning when he leaves before the sun rises above you. That’s perfect for Jack.

Until his next haircut, the only time that footballer doesn’t have a braid through his hair is when your fingers are tangling in it while he’s between your legs for another very enjoyable reason.

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