#the bobby section is so long and will probably grow the most but should be something for most stans

[ariendiel]

A directory of fanfic writers for the love island the game fandom, with a brief bit of information about their work and where to find it. This should hopefully make it easier to find blogs to follow and fics to read!

Please message me or drop me an ask if you want to be added, have any information changed, or be removed from the list

@becangle

A dedicated Bobby fanfic author, with a range of work from both a Villa fic to a 1940's comedy – all with an original twist. Work is rated M or E, with focus on character development.

link to ao3

@chroniccomicobsession

Writes mainly for Bobby, with fun takes on the characters and in unique settings. Author has also written a few oneshots, and has more originial stories with the litg cast in the works.

link to ao3

@daisybarks

A Bobby author very much focusing on character driven stories, with interesting characters and plenty of smut. Most stories are rated E, with angst, for the daring Bobby stans.

link to ao3

@eskiix

Has a post-villa Bobby fic, focusing on character development and which is rated E for explicit content. Also writes one-shots for various characters other than Bobby.

link to ao3

@fuseboxmusebox

Has fics both for Bobby and Lucas, but mostly focuses on the former. Writes captivating alternate universe stories, utilising the full LITG cast of characters.

link to ao3

@itsrealityboo

A diverse author, whose main fic 'One Night Stand' is Bobby centred. Other work includes Nicky, and her work tends to be plot driven but with lots of character moments to drive the stories forward.

link to ao3

@longbobmckenzie

Most work is focused on Bobby, but has also started writing for Henrik more over the last few months. Tends to write character driven stories, with plenty of angst. Rated M or E.

link to ao3

@reflectivefuckery

A dedicated author with a Villa Bobby fic exploring all his more complex sides. Very much encapsulates what it must be like in the Villa for the characters. Rated E.

link to ao3

@simonsmontjoy

Writes a slightly more bad!Bobby, and is very much a slow-burn writer, but with creative one shots as well. Fics are rated either T or have some mature content.

link to ao3

@thoracicorchid

Has two long works with Bobby as the main love interest, rated M and E. Also has multiple one-shots for other character. Character focused, with captivating portrayals.

link to ao3

@chenria

A multi-fandom writer, but who writes for Carl in the litg fandom. Specifically, their work focuses on what happens if MC and Carl meet again 4 years after their stay in the Villa ended in disaster. Fic is rated E.

link to ao3

@elyssaflaherty

Has a completed in-villa Carl fic, from his POV, and an associated sequel. Also writes for Lucas, and does not shy away from writing about difficult feelings and complex characters. Work is rated E, and covers sensitive topics.

link to ao3

@ravenadottir

Writes for most LIs, but main fic to date centres around Carl. Work is mature, but with little to no explicit material. Character driven stories.

link to ao3

@kiki-the-creator

Has an absolutely incredible collection of F/F fanfic, showcasing their great grasp of all the characters, but whose main focus is Elisa. Ratings are usually teen and up, or mature.

link to ao3

@kittidot

Writes for almost all the characters in LITG S2, but Gary is the main LI in their main work Ghoul Island. Ratings are mature, and they have a wonderful grasp on all the characters

link to ao3

@mrsgaryrennell

An experienced writer for Gary, with two works either finished or in progress (a third fic will not be finished, but is still worth reading). Has a very lovely main character, and a beautiful take on Gary as a character.

link to ao3

@rennell

The originator of vampire!Gary, and has more work in progress. Has a lively and vivid writing style, which leans towards a mature rating.

link to ao3

@gin-o-clock

Has just started an original Henrik friends-to-lovers fic, rated M. Style tends to be medium paced, with focus on character development and growth.

link to ao3

@notasdryapricots

Writes a Lucas villa fic, following canon but with original takes on the events in the Villa during the game. Rated explicit. and author accepts Lucas prompts as well.

link to ao3

@sailorpleiades

Has an in-villa Lucas fic, but the twist being that he is an original boy there from the beginning. A author who uses both plot and character, and whose work is rated E.

link to ao3

@vulnerabledime

Has written for both Lucas and Bobby, but with most recent work focusing on the latter. Also enjoys writing one-shots and ficlets, and accepts prompts. Work is rated G or M.

link to ao3

@aislinnstanaka

F/F writer, focusing on Marisol. Also enjoys to write rare-pairs and has something for everyone. A character focused author, whose work is mostly rated T or M.

link to ao3

@ariendiel

Has everything from a complete Villa fic and one-shots, to original work. Writing tends to be largely plot driven, and is mostly rated M or E. Accepts prompts for Noah.

link to ao3

@follies-fixture

Writes original and canon-divergent Noah fics, in-villa and with a follow up story. Writing is fast paced and is rated both mature and explicit.

link to ao3

@bypine

A storyteller with a talent for the original, managing to convey much emotion and feeling in few words. Enjoys writing within-universe ships, and has a good grasp on all the characters. Work is rated between T and E.

link to ao3

---

thank you to @gin-o-clock for making the headers!

#sorry if I missed out on people but wasn't sure who wanted to be added so I just went with a few #the bobby section is so long and will probably grow the most but should be something for most stans #litg #litg s2 #love island the game #litg bobby #litg carl #litg gary #litg henrik #litg lucas #litg marisol #litg noah #litg fanfic #fanfic #litg fic #litg fanfiction

[elisela]

in a language you can understand buck x eddie, g, 2k, for anon who asked for Eddie buying little gifts for Buck and hiding them in his work bag

--

He blames it on hour twenty-three of a twenty-four hour shift when what comes out of his mouth after Chim tosses a bag of Skittles at his face is “I bet I could fit all these in my mouth at once.”

Hen shakes her head, Chim snorts, but Buck narrows his eyes and leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself as close to Eddie as he can get without climbing over the thing. “Coward,” he says, his mouth quirking into a grin, “I bet I could fit two.”

“Not at the station,” Bobby says, sounding bored. “There’s too much paperwork involved if one of you becomes injured on the job, even if it’s your own fault.”

“No, definitely at the station,” Hen says. “There’s more work involved if we have to break in a new probie because one of you idiots chokes to death.”

The conversation drifts, and Eddie forgets about it until he’s at the grocery store later, ignoring the way his son sticks out his lower lip as he begs for a candy bar. When Chris picks up a bag of Skittles, Eddie sighs and says yes, then throws two more bags on the conveyor belt when Chris isn’t looking.

He hides them in Buck’s work bag the next day.

---

“Skip-It,” Hen says, looking wistful. “My neighbor had one when I was a kid and I swear, I used to stare at her for hours when she’d play in the courtyard. I wanted one so badly.”

“Couldn’t you just … skip?” Buck asks, looking confused. “You needed a toy for that?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “It went around your ankle,” she says. “Here, I’ll google it for you.”

“What about you, Cap?” Chim asks, as Buck leans his head in towards Hen to peer at her phone. “Which childhood toy did you miss out on?”

Bobby tilts his head for a moment. “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots,” he says, refocusing on the pan in front of him. “My Mom thought they were too violent. She’d have a lot to say about what kids are playing with now.”

“Oh, don’t start us on the ‘kids these days’ speech,” Buck groans. “Quick, Eddie, distract him.”

“Uhh,” Eddie says, thinking—he’s sure there are there plenty of toys he’d begged for but never received, but clearly his parents had been right when they said he’d forget about them because he can’t recall a single one, except—“moon shoes,” he says, and at Buck and Hen’s blank look, he appeals to Chim. “You know, they were about four inches tall, like mini-trampolines? My parents said I’d break my ankle.”

“They were probably right,” Buck says. “You know how many calls we get because of trampoline accidents.”

“Alright, Bambi,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Most of us have control over our own limbs. What’s yours, then?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s kinda stupid, but there weren’t any kids in our neighborhood and Maddie wasn’t really into stuff like this, but you remember that game where you had like—a velco glove? And you’d catch a tennis ball?”

“Magic Mitt,” Chim says, snapping his fingers. “I wanted one of those, too. I should buy one for the baby.”

“I’d pay to see a three month old who could catch,” Hen says at the same time as Buck snorts and says, “I bet Maddie will love you throwing a tennis ball at Joy’s head.”

Three weeks later, Eddie’s gently pushing Chris out of the dollar section at Target when he spots a round velcro disc with a tennis ball attached in a bin full of summer games. He grabs two; one gets tossed on the back porch with the rest of Christopher’s outdoor toys, and the other goes in his work bag until it can be transferred to Buck’s locker.

----

The thing is, Eddie’s been in love with Buck for … well. He’d felt something for him right away, the type of attraction that goes beyond surface level, the pull towards another person’s soul, all of Buck’s goodness a lit beacon that illuminated Eddie’s way back to being whole. It was just never the right time, not with all his insecurities, Buck’s insecurities—every time Eddie thought maybe, the universe said not yet. His common sense gave way to guilt when Shannon reappeared, all of Buck’s near-death experiences, the way he so easily lost control of himself when what anchored him was suddenly gone.

It’s not that he thinks they don’t have what it takes to go the distance, but after Shannon—he’s more cautious now. He knows relationships take work and he’s willing to put that in, but he also knows how easily things break, and he’s not about to lose the one shot he has with Buck, so he’s just … waiting for the right time.

It’s probably been the right time for awhile now, but somehow, despite Hen and Chim’s ongoing conversation about who will ask out who first that regularly takes place in front of him (Buck, they unanimously decided), he hasn’t been able to go through with it.

----

After that, it’s little rubber toys that grow in water (shaped like a fireman and a fire truck), a candle that smells like lemon (because Buck had peeled one and eaten it like an orange the week before), a pack of two half-gallon, brown glass jars with “coffee” written on the side after a week that Buck worked three 36 hour shifts, a mini-waffle maker, a jar of Nutella (which Eddie had then been forced to watch Buck lick—so very slowly—off a spoon, an image which had not left his mind for several very long, lonely weeks), a packet of stickers that was surely meant for teachers but Buck immediately started giving out to everyone at the station (Eddie had laughed himself silly at the look on Chim’s face when Buck slapped one of a unicorn that said “great job!” on his uniform shirt and said “great job dating my sister!”), notebooks and silly pens—for months, every time he saw something small and cheap that made him think of Buck, he’d buy it and find a way to hide it in Buck’s bag or locker.

Buck never says anything, but Eddie watches the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he finds something, the way his smile softens into something more private and tender, sees how Buck makes sure he shows whatever it is off in front of Eddie—chugging cold brew straight out of the coffee bottle before he makes a face at the bitter taste, spends hours on the couch playing hangman with Hen in the notebooks, handing her the blue pen with the googly-eyed flamingo on top and keeping the one shaped like a shark for himself, trying to keep a straight face while his shoulders shake with laughter as Bobby reprimands both of them for shooting their coworkers with squirt guns while they run around the fire station. He doesn’t need Buck to say anything—he likes that he doesn’t, that it’s just something between the two of them that Buck doesn’t make into a big deal.

It goes on for so long that it’s almost second nature to pick something up for Buck whenever he goes shopping, and gradually, the gifts get a little more—intentional. A tie-dye hoodie after he sees a picture of an eight year old Buck wearing one (and a matching one for Chris), a “world’s best uncle” mug after Buck worries that Albert sees Joy more than he does and she might start to prefer him, a Greek cookbook after the fifth time they go out to the new restaurant in his neighborhood (Eddie might get more out of that than Buck does considering the sheer amount of baklava that starts appearing at the station—Eddie’s favorite treat).

As it turns out, he thinks about Buck a lot.

-----

“Sasha says you have to get your best friend an extra special Halloween treat,” Chris says, looking over the row of candy carefully.

“Sound like Sasha wants better candy,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag of caramel apple suckers for the station.

And maybe for himself.

Chris gives him a look. “Sasha’s not my best friend,” he says, turning back to the candy. “Buck is.”

“Well, can’t stand in the way of that,” he says. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

Chris finally hands him a bag of fancy marshmallows shaped like mummies, and peers into the cart. “What’d you get him this time?”

Eddie stares at him.

“You always get him something,” Chris says. “He’s your best friend, too, you need to get him something extra special. Hey, maybe you should tell him to get me something special, too.”

“Like he needs any more encouragement,” Eddie says.

On their way through the bakery aisle, he spots frosted cookies with phrases piped onto them; he grabs a witch that says “you’re bewitching” on it, and puts it in Buck’s locker just before the end of their shift.

Buck smiles all the way out to his Jeep.

-----

The week after, it’s a travel coffee mug that says “I think you’re spooktacular” that Buck carries with him on every call for three shifts before Chim puts it in the top rack of the dishwasher and it melts the side.

The pout on Buck’s lips pleases Eddie a little too much. So when he’s browsing the shelves at Target, waiting for Chris to find a costume he finds suitable that is also school appropriate and finds another Halloween themed cup—this time, with “Will you be my boo?” written on it, he only hesitates for a moment before putting it in the cart.

He doesn’t build up the courage to put it in Buck’s bag for two weeks—it’s not until Eddie notices the way that his face falls after six shifts with nothing new appearing in his locker that he shoves it in Buck’s bag after a shift, when Buck runs upstairs to give something to Chim.

They’re saying goodbye to Hen when Buck turns towards him suddenly. “I have something for Chris,” he says, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes when Buck sets his bag down and opens it up. He stares at the cup for a long time, then looks up at Eddie, glances at Hen, and smiles. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, “you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow? Like—a date?”

Hen’s bag hits the floor.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head as Buck’s mouth twitches. “No, you don’t get to take credit for this, I practically—that counts as me asking,” he says, waving towards the bag. “I asked you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, tossing a paper bag at him before standing up and clapping him on the shoulder. “Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll pick you up because I asked you,” he says, looking over at Hen. “I did. Show her the cup, Buck.”

“Dress warm, we’re going to a corn maze,” Buck says, skipping backwards with a wink. “And grab some blankets for your truck!”

-----

The week after their first date, there’s a small framed picture sitting in his locker—Buck with his arm around Eddie’s shoulders at the corn maze, their smiling faces lit by the bonfire, a bottle of beer dangling from Buck’s fingers. The lettering on the frame says “thankful for you” with a tiny leaf etched next to it.

Eddie sets it out on their reception table two years later.

#buddie #buddie fic #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #i told you guys i'd make up for the touch-starved one #here is 2k of endless fluff that will rot your teeth out #and bonus halloween because it's spooky season #it's crying over eddie diaz hours #eli writes

[pagingevilspawn]

stick it

What even is this fic? Idk, but i was missing gymnastics, so this is what y’all get. Its super bad, super weird, and not a whole lotta jolex, but whatever. 

Also, nobody cares, but the way I'm giving the scores is (most likely) different than what is averaged for Washington. I’ve never competed in Washington so i don’t know how hard their scoring is, but I did compete in one of the hardest regions in the US for gymnasts, so scoring was always a LOT more harsh than it was in other states and areas of states. Even though nobody is gonna pay attention to that I just thought I'd say something lol. 

And fun fact- our girl is a (much) better gymnast than i ever was, so… tea 🍵🍵  

~*~

Jo watched her husband do their daughter’s hair from the doorway, some kind of a braided bun she didn’t know the name of. She smiled at the sight. It never failed to bring a smile to her face, even though it had become pretty common these past few years. She cradled the bottom of her six month baby bump in the palm of her left hand, her right holding her piping hot tea in a thermos. Once Alex was done putting in all of the excess pins, she watches as he puts a hand over their daughter’s eyes, pulling out the can of hairspray and spraying it into her hair. 

The almost nine year old girl lets out a giggle, commenting on how the hairspray smelt funny. Alex pulls out an Amped Up brush, combing back any flyaway hairs that might have escaped the spray. She snaps out of her trance when she hears her phone alarm go off, alerting the other two in the room of her presence. 

“Mommy!” her daughter exclaims, running over to her to give her a quick hug, much to the dismay of Alex. He was just thankful that he was already done with her hair. Even after three years of doing hair it still took a long ass time to do buns, especially when his daughter was the perfectionist she was. 

“Hey Dyl,” Jo reaches down, returning her daughter’s hug, giving her a tight squeeze before she watches Dylan retreat back to her dad, sitting in front of the mirror once again. 

Jo looks at Alex, who’s attention was focused on adding the shiny black scrunchie into the little girl’s hair. “I’m gonna get Aub up.” she whispers to him, watching him nod before she turns and makes her way down the hall, where their three year old daughter was sleeping. It was only five-thirty, so she knew what a hassle it would be. Aubryella was exactly like her parents in that way, a complete night owl. It was always a hassle to get the girl down at night, but even tougher to wake her up in the morning. She flicks on the small night on the girl’s bedside table, the lamp shade casting a soft pink glow around the all pink room. 

Much like her name, Aubryella was the definition of a girly-girl. She was all about pink, barbies, fashion, makeup… anything that would be described as girly, the three year old liked. Alex always gave props to Jo for that, since while she was pregnant with their youngest daughter she claimed that the tiny life growing inside of her was going to be an ‘all that and a bag of chips little diva’, so she thought it was only appropriate to give her a name to suit that title. (Good thing her mommy instincts were correct. She knew that if she gave Dylan that name and not Aubryella she would hate it more than life itself.) 

She shakes the girl lightly, hoping that it was enough to wake her up, which it ultimately wasn’t. She begins to run a hand through her hair, which ends up failing too. Jo lets out a sigh. 

“Aub. Aubrey. Elle. Ella. Ree. Aubryella. Get up sweetie.” she shakes the girl harder, finally stopping when the tiny blonde lets out a loud groan of protest. Yep, definitely a Karev.

“No mommy,” the girl says, her word muffled since her face was buried in her soft pink pillow case, using one hand to sleepily push her moms face away. It was too close to her ear, and she just wanted to sleep.

Jo chuckles, rolling her eyes at her daughter's antics. “It’s state’s day.” she whispers, knowing that that would get Aub’s attention.

As expected, the little girl gets up immediately, rubbing her tired as, not looking as asleep as she probably should, the talk of the upcoming meet more than enough to get her blood rushing. Though Aubryella wasn't a gymnast herself (she had started dance class a year ago and had found her calling then), watching gymnastics was something she loved to do, especially when it was her own sister competing. Not to mention, it was the topic of nearly every dinner for the past month and a half.  

The mom watches as the girl hassles out of the bed quickly, picking up her blanket and rushing to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Jo stays behind, making the bed. Normally, Aub would need to do it herself, but since they were on a time limit, she decided it would be best if she did it instead. When the girl gets back in the room Jo picks out her clothes, a dusty rose sweater and black jeans, both wasting no time in putting them on. She runs a comb through her daughter’s long dirty blonde hair, a trait she inherited from her Aunt Amber and Grandma. Aub actually looked more like the two than her own parents to most people, with her dirty blonde hair and blue-green eyes. But anyone who actually looked at the girl could see that she had Jo's nose and Alex’s chin. Not to mention, that crooked grin was all Alex Karev.

Jo picks up her daughter from her spot on the bed, grabbing a jacket that was hung on a hook before heading out of the door and down the hall, stopping when she went down the stairs and entered the living room. She sets the girl down by a chair in the kitchen, going to the cabinets and pulling out the doughnuts and cereal. “Which one?” she asks, holding up each dessert in a different hand. 

The girl grins mischievously, making the mom let out a small chuckle before pulling a powdered sugar doughnut out of the box. She didn’t know why she expected anything else. 

Aubryella accepts the doughnut gratefully, giving out an absent minded thank you before shoveling the treat in her mouth, getting the white sugar all over her face. Jo doesn’t need to wait long before she hears two sets of footsteps come down the stairs, Dylan dressed with her white and light blue leotard on, black warm ups on over it, Alex in a simple pair of jeans, back t-shirt, and the damn black jacket that he never got rid of, no matter how many protests he got from his wife. 

“Ready?” Jo asks, all three of them nodding in response. “Okay, you got your bag, shoes, extra hair ties, water bottle, lucky bear, extra bobby pins, thera band, notebook, phone, mascara, lip gloss, hair brush, wallet, tiger paws, ankle brace, knee brace, and wrist brace?” she questions again, going over the list she had memorized from years of training. 

Dylan rolls her eyes impatiently. She didn’t want to be late. She couldn’t be late. It was States for god’s sake! Everyone in the state of Washington (who qualified) would be there. The judges would be scoring harder, and some of the competition was going to be new. She was going to go up against girl’s she hadn’t before. Her goal was to win everything. Maybe it was extreme, but it was true. This season she had done well, really well actually. Her first season as a level seven had started off in the best way. She swept the first competition clean, getting first on vault, floor, and all around, second on bars, and third on beam. As the season went on she just got better, scores getting higher and snatching more golds with each meet. She knew she wasn’t going to be in the Olympics one day, but getting a college scholarship was looking more promising with every first place medal she had stacked around her neck. 

“Yeah, now let’s gooooo,” Dylan drags out, grabbing her dad’s hand and pulling him to the door, not even waiting for her mom and sister to follow. The four Karev’s shuffle into the car and drive an hour and fifteen minutes to the convention center where the meet was being held. They pile out of the car and check in, Alex taking a few minutes to add an extra layer of hairspray to Dylan’s hair while Jo puts a light coat of mascara on the girl’s eyelashes and dabs the lip rosy gloss on her lips. 

Before the eight year old can run off her coach, her parents kneel down in front of her, her eyes letting them know how scared she was behind her calm facade. “Hey,” Jo grabs a hold of her little girl’s shoulders, making her hazel eyes that were identical to her own stare deeply into hers. “You got this. Go out there and have fun, alright? You know your routines, you won’t mess up. Okay?” she reassures her. Jo pulls her daughter into a hug, “I love you baby.” she whispers into her ear, passing her off to Alex. 

Instead of staying on the ground, he picks her up and puts her on his side, much like you would do a small child. Dylan had always been on the smaller side, since neither one of her parents were very tall, but gymnastics had definitely stunted her growth a fair amount. For most people it would be a curse, but as all gymnasts know, it was a blessing. 

“We’re right here if you need us. Go kick some ass Dyl, and win that state title. You want that banner right?” he teases. Dylan did want a banner though. At her gym, whoever won a state, regionals, sectionals, or nationals title got a banner hung up from the ceiling. She had one from last year, when she won floor, vault, and the all around as a level six, and even more from the years before that in levels three, four, and five. 

But a banner as a level seven? Now that would be a dream come true. Why break the streak now? And not to mention, her group would be the last level seven group to go for the weekend, so if she got a high enough all around score, it could be factored in for the team’s total, which could mean another banner (this one provided by the competition) and trophy, if their total score was in the top three. And believe me, she was determined to win that banner, not for her, but for her team. 

Another thing she inherited from her parent’s, their competitiveness. 

Dylan gives her parents and sister one last hug and ‘I love you’ before ducking under the chain and meeting her coach and teammates on the floor.  

...             

“Camera, camera, camera.” Alex mumbles, fishing through Jo’s bag until he pulls out the phone. Dylan was about to go up on bars, and he was designated photographer, since his wife couldn’t film for the life of her. The one time she tried, she ended up shooting the ceiling instead of Dylan’s floor routine. Their daughter was not very happy about that. 

He presses the start button just as the girl salutes, flashing the judges a smile before she begins. She rolls her neck and then adjusts her grips, stepping onto the mounting block and taking a deep breath before swinging her arms and launching into a kip, drowning out all of the excess noise in the background. 

“Legs, legs, legs.” Jo mumbles to herself. It was Dylan’s biggest deduction, having her legs separated. 

Straight legs, pointed feet. Kip cast handstand, hit the 180 degree mark, hold it, clear hip, hit 180 again, hollow body, her feet don't hit the ground, cast up to a squat on, she catches sight of the high bar before jumping to it, keeping her legs together as she goes into another kip, casting up into handstand, holding it at 180 for a second without an arch before hollowing back and beginning her giants, hollow body, tap, feet up, over, and again, see the toes in front, release, layout flyaway. Stick. 

Dylan beams as she salutes the judge again, going over to her coach and giving her a large hug, finally hearing the cheering coming from her family. A series of whoops and whistles come from her mom and dad, while her little sister claps her hands and gives her a wide smile. 

She waits a minute and a half for her score to flash up on the screen, a 9.725. The cheering from her section gets louder, and her teammates engulf her in hugs. It was a hell of a way to start off the meet. 

…

Alex pulls out the camera again when Dylan salutes the beam judge, trying to mask her nervousness behind a smile. Alex and Jo both knew how she felt about the beam. She hated it with every fiber of her being, no matter how good she was at it. She glances over at her family, who all give her encouraging smiles. It was just enough to give her the confidence she needed. 

He watches as she places her hands on the beam, going from a support to a press handstand for her mount. She stands, doing a few different moves and poses before swinging her arms up by her ears. 

“C’mon Dyl.” he whispers to himself. His daughter didn't mind cheering on any other events, but beam was a different story. She was always worried whenever she was on the apparatus, so whenever a sudden noise came through, she struggled. It was something she was working on, but it was going to take time. 

She lifts up her left leg, beginning her connection, a back walkover to a back handspring step-out. The girl circles her arms behind her immediately to prevent any balance checks. Jo and Alex both let out audible sighs of relief, knowing that if there was one thing that could go wrong in the routine, it would be that. From the looks of it, Dylan seemed relieved too. Her movements were less tense, she completed her jumps with perfect form, a split jump to a sissone. Her leap hit 180, and her full turn was controlled. All that was left now was her dismount. All three Karev’s sat on the edge of their seats, the baby in Jo’s belly kicking non stop, letting her know that it was in on the action as well. 

Dylan kicks her leg into the air, toes pointed, knees locked. Cartwheel step-in, back tuck. Stick. She lets out a breath, turning to the judges and saluting, flashing them a smile, giving her coaches a hug before darting to her family, who had moved closer for the event.  

“You did so good.” Jo says, pulling her into a hug over the plastics chains that separated them, Alex doing the same after. 

“What score do you think I got Bree?” Dylan asks her little sister, who lets out an adorable giggle before holding out her hands. 

“Ten!” she says, making her family laugh. One could dream. 

The score flashed up on the screen then, 9.775. 

Well, this was going to be a damn good meet. 

…

The camera was locked on Dylan as she made her way to her spot on the floor, striking her beginning pose before her music blared through the speakers. She dances around the floor, gliding with an ease neither of her parents had ever experienced themselves. It was a wonder really, how both of their daughter’s were good dancers while they couldn't move for shit. 

Her first pass was her hardest, a roundoff back handspring back layout. The family holds their breath as the girl sets high, finishing the rotation with ease, dancing around more before her leap pass, a switch leap to a straddle jump. She dances more, making eye contact with the judges as she moves. Floor was where she had the most confidence, being able to express herself through her music and choreography, that’s why it was always her favorite. 

“C’mon Dyl!” 

“You got this Dylan,” 

“Yay Tissy!” 

The family cheered before her second pass, a front handspring front pike, which she had a small step on, but nothing that would make a large difference in her score. She did some floor work, showing off her flexibility in her back with a series of rolls, standing up and doing a full turn. She makes her way to the corner, Jo and Alex watching the scene intently, Alex having Aubryella perched on his knee. This last pass sealed the deal. She runs, hurdles into a front pike, and connects to a front tuck. Stick. 

A smile breaks out on the little girl’s face. She moves her limbs in unison to her ending pose, hitting it just as the beat dropped. A series of cheers come from everyone around her. Her family, teammates, coaches. She doesn’t need to wait long for her score to flash up on the screen. A 9.675. 

…

Dylan’s last event was vault, her personal best. She had already done her warmups, and now she was just waiting for the judge to hold up the green flag. She adjusts her tiger paws after she salutes, just as Alex starts the recording. She sprints down the runway, hurdling into a roundoff, and pushing back into a back handspring. Her vault was a yurchenko drill. She keeps her form, legs together, knees locked, toes pointed. She finishes, salutes, then goes again. The three in the stands cheer. It was the last event. Her all around score depended on these vaults. 

When she does her finishing salute a second time, she knows that it was even better than the last. She looks over to her family and gives them a smile, wanting nothing more than to run over to them, but she knows she can’t, they were too far away. 

Her score takes a while to come up on the screen, which could either be a bad or good thing. The Karev’s hold their breath in anticipation, Jo stroking her baby bump with one hand, while holding Alex’s with the other. Even Aubryella was on the edge of her seat, well, more like the edge of her dad’s lap. Her hair was no longer down, but in a braided bun similar to her sisters, since she insisted that she wanted to look just like her. Alex was thankful Jo had packed extra hair ties in not just Dylan’s bag, but also her purse.

A series of loud cheers come from this section as they see their daughter’s score. A 9.800, a personal best. 

…

“And now, your vault state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.800 is… Dylan Karev!” The announcer cheers as the little brunette makes her way up to the first place podium, an abundance of applause coming from the crowd. A gold medal is placed around her neck by an assistant, who she thanks with a megawatt smile. 

“These are your 2029 vault state champions, gymnasts salute.” the announcer says, causing all the girls to raise their arms to the position, all the families in the crowd taking photos of their daughters. Jo, Alex, and Aubryella cheer the loudest, more than proud of Dylan. 

As awards went on, more categories were called. 

“Your bar's state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.725 is... Dylan Karev!” 

“Your beam state champion in the eight to nine year old category with a score of 9.775 is… Dylan Karev!” 

“On the floor, in second place with a score of 9.675 is… Dylan Karev!” 

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Your 2029, eight to nine year old all around state champion, with a combined score of 38.975 is… Dylan Karev!” The audience erupted into applause, her parents, her teammates, coaches, and even her teammates parent’s cheering for her. She accepts her fifth medal with a wide smile, hopping down from the podium and back into the crowd. She had just won her ultimate goal, an all around title. 

After a few of the older groups were called, it was time for the team awards.  

“In first place, with a combined total of 115.575 is… Seattle Gymnastics Academy!” Another first place team award. The team accepts the banner and trophy and poses for photos alongside the second and third place team, proudly showing off their trophy by raising it above their heads.  

When she gets down and the awards finish, she runs to her parents, crashing into Alex with a gigantic hug. When she finally lets go, she hugs her mom and sister. 

“I’m so proud of you Dyl.” her mom says, touching her cheek affectionately. Gymnastics was her daughter's passion, something she lived and breathed for. Seeing that light in her eyes and that grin was something she would never get tired of. 

Aubryella hugs her big sister’s legs, “good job Tissy.” The name came from when the tiny blonde was younger and couldn’t say ‘Sissy’, and had stuck to it ever since. 

The family of four makes their way out of the convention center, the drive back to their house was peaceful, the limited hours of sleep they got the night before catching up to them. They all crash onto their respective beds, the girls in their rooms and Jo and Alex in their’s. 

Alex runs a hand through his wife’s hair, his other tracing circles on her baby bump, feeling the little life inside of her kick like a crazy person. 

They stay like that for a while, savoring the quiet. With two kids in the house, it was a major rarity these days. Jo hums, nuzzling into his embrace. “I love you.” she murmurs into his shirt, on the verge of sleep. He reaches down and places a small kiss on the top of her head. 

“I love you too.”

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson karev #jolex fic #jolex fanfic #jolex fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #greys anatomy #greys #greys abc #jolex babies #jolex forever #jolex is endgame #greys anatomy fanfiction #jolex au #screw 16x16 #gymnastics #competition #gymmnast #jo x alex #alex x jo #camilla luddington #justin chambers #au #greys anatomy au #bring them back to me please

[ladybugsfanfics]

Strangers On A Train [3] | Tom Hiddleston x reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Style: has become mutlichapter, how long; who knows?

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, pining, 

Summary:  “we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine” - prompt source

A/N: it turns out that this thing that was a drabble has spiraled out of control. I love this fic and it seems to get longer and longer, how long I have no idea. Thank you all for loving it so much <3

If you want to be tagged, send an ask, please ^_^

Previous | Series Maserlist | Part Four

The mix of a buzz from something vibrating against a table and the blare from your annoying alarm wakes you from what had been a deep slumber. Grudgingly, you throw your arm out from under the duvet and smack your phone. This does not have the result you wanted, and you fumble a minute before the sounds fade. 

With a sigh, you turn around and keep huggin your cover, knowing you have about five minutes until the next alarm goes off. Sleep doesn’t come during those five minutes (to be honest, it’s rare when it does), but you still need them to know you have to wake up. 

Your thoughts try to wander back to the dream you had, which was a very nice one where the constant pain in your stomach turned into fireworks because finally something happened. Instead, you have to wake up to a reality where that isn’t the case. 

And the alarm goes off again. You contemplate snoozing it, just this one time, but you know how that will turn out, so you slide it off. It takes a couple of minutes before you actually move. Cold seeps up your legs as your bare feet hit the floor and you instantly regret the decision of waking up. 

Though it isn’t exactly as if you have a choice. 

What you did have a choice in was not to stay up late the past two weeks because you kept talking to Tom. The man himself kept saying he should turn in, and that you should do the same, but neither of you hung up. And the night before had been just as late as the other nights. 

Yet, you drag yourself to the bathroom and do your daily morning routine. With that done, you make your way to the kitchen and make breakfast. Something light (a sandwich), and while you’re at it, you make one for lunch, too. 

It’s only as you’re on your way out you check your phone. Nothing really exciting on the first few notifications. And then, one that has your heart skip a beat and a smile stretch out across your face. 

Tom: Good morning :) I’m taking a plane ride today so I’m not sure if I can entertain you for lunch. - twh

Something about the way he texts has you smile even brighter. 

You: That’s okay, don’t worry about it. Text me when you land??

You put your phone in your pocket as you lock the door and start your little journey to the tube station. The chill morning air greets you, and you take a deep breath. The day already feels like it’ll be a good one. 

And the reply you get from Tom only has your heart beat faster. 

Tom: Of course, did you really believe I wouldn’t? - twh

You grin as you type in a reply. 

You: No, but I need reassurance

Tom: I guess that makes sense. Plane ride doesn’t depart until 10, you have time to talk before then? - twh

You: I can probably make time ;)

Tom: I’m holding you to that. Tell me when you can. - twh

You: :)

---

In the end, the good day you had pictured, turns out not so good. Not only could you not make time to talk to Tom, the lunch break you had pictured―an hour in a cafe with a good book―didn’t happen either because you ended up not taking one. 

There was a constant demand of your attention during the whole workday. You missed the texts that came in at one point, and when you finally sprawl out on your couch from exhaustion, your phone blares to life. 

You read the called ID as that of ‘that one coworker you wish would stop calling this late’. Literally, that’s the caller ID. Instead of answering, because you know you’ll sound like a bitch if you do, you send one of those pre-written texts about not being able to answer. 

Having your phone in your hand, and being certain Tom’s landed, you check your texts. True enough, there is one there. Five hours ago. 

Tom: Just landed, are you free now? - twh

You groan. 

You: I only saw this now, I’m so sorry. I can talk now if you want to?

Seeing as the man is rather busy most of the time, you don’t expect an answer. But hearing your phone pling, your heart pounds. 

Tom: That’s okay, darling. I’m free to talk. :) - twh

Seeing that, you press the call button at the top of the messaging board. It takes little time before it goes through and you hear Tom’s soothing, velvet voice through the speaker of your phone. 

“Hi,” he says.

Just that has you breathless. “Hi,” you reply, some of the exhaustion falling away. “How was the plane ride?”

“It was okay. The same as any other plane ride,” he says, though you notice a slight tiredness to his voice. “How was your day?”

The sigh that comes with the question seems to be answer enough, because he laughs and asks, “that bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” You bring your hand to your forehead and rub your temples. “Barely had a lunch break, actually.” 

“I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound good. Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asks. 

“No. I came home and slumped on the couch.” You gaze towards the kitchen. “Food does sound good, though.”

Tom laughs. “Order yourself some takeout, you deserve it.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone, or, I don’t wanna talk to anyone but you.” The admittance has your gut churn and you’re glad Tom can’t see how your face flushes bright pink. 

Another chuckle. “I’ll order for you, just tell me what you want.”

The gesture in itself sounds nice, nothing to it. But for you, it means a lot. So far, he know phone calls aren’t really your thing, but you have only mentioned that once. The fact that he remembers and that he offers to do it for you, it makes a warm feeling spread through you.

Nonetheless, you are quite stubborn. “Uhh, no, I can do it.”

“Don’t worry about it. What do you want?” 

Too exhausted to argue, you tell him. Having had cravings for chinese food, more specifically; fried noodles with chicken, bothering you all day, so you tell him exactly that. You can hear his smile through the phone as he asks if there’s anything else you want. 

“Chocolate,” you reply. “And some snacks, not sure what. Biscuits sounds nice, so does crisps. Uhh, what else? Honestly, if you could raid the entire snack section at some store that would be more than enough for me.”

He chuckles. “Sure, I’ll order now, okay? Call you when I’m done?”

You nod and say ‘yes’ at the same time, and the line breaks cut as you both say a quick ‘bye’.

With no need to hold your phone to your ear, your hands falls limp to your side. It connects with the couch in a small double thump as it bounces on first impact. You close your eyes and let out a loud sigh, which eases some of the fatigue from your body. 

Unfortunately, no matter how much you want to sit on the couch and do nothing, you feel a little restless. You stand up on tired feet and let them lead you to the kitchen. Whilst you walk, you pull back your hair into a bun because it became annoying fast. 

Your feet stop in the doorway into the kitchen, and you lean against the frame. Your eyes skim the white cupboards as if you can see through the doors to know what’s in them. Knowing there’s nothing you really want, you walk back to the living room, grab your phone and make for your bedroom. 

Never before has taking off tight fitting jeans felt so good. You slip into a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt. Your bra quickly ends up in the laundry basket and just the feeling of not wearing it is enough to make you relax even more. 

And then your phone buzzes where it lies on your bed. You throw yourself down and grab it. One glance has you see it’s Tom and you answer without hesitation. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding more chipper than when you’d talked to him just a few minutes earlier. 

“You sound… not as tired?” You can picture the frown, though slight smile, that covers his face. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head. “No, I changed clothes. Baggy all the way.” 

He laughs. “Ahh, I see. Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Really good.” You let the smile creep onto your lips. “When’s the food getting here?”

“Impatient much?” He asks. “It’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“That is too long.”

“Too long? For what? You to not be hungry anymore?”

“No, too long for me to be without food. I seriously would die for, I don’t know, just a tiny bite of something as bland as cauliflower now. Really.”

A soft laugh fills the line. “I guess you’ll have to gain some patience.”

You roll your eyes. “Where can I get that? Can I borrow some from you?”

“I’m sorry to say that that is, in fact, not possible. I have only so much patience and it’s reserved to deal with you.”

You fake a shocked gasp, which only has him laugh. The laugh tugs at your heart, and you try to stop your breath from catching because the sound takes you aback, but by how he stops laughing and just breathes, you know he noticed. 

As neither of you talk, you center in on just listening to him. His breathing is steady, yet he sounds a little bit ragged. In the background, you can hear a small sound of chatter and cars. He’s probably out for a walk, or maybe he’s eating dinner late, too. 

“Hey, something I’ve forgotten to ask,” you say, “how’s Bobby been? You’ve been gone for a few days now.”

“Bobby’s fine. He’s been having the time of his life at my mother’s.” The fondness in his voice has the smile on your face grow wide. 

“Aww, why haven’t I met him yet?” you ask, and pout even though Tom can’t see it. “I find that highly unfair.”

“Maybe sometime in the coming week?” 

You nod. “That sounds perfect.”

And the next thing you’re going to say is interrupted by the sound of a car outside your apartment building. “I think the food’s here.” You get up from the bed and move towards your apartment door. On the line, Tom’s voice is muffled as he speaks to someone else. To not have the take-out guy wait for you to open your door and find everything, you find your card and open the apartment door beforehand. 

However, the sight that meets you is not the one you expected. 

Tom walks toward your door, three bags in hand. Two are grocery-store bags and the third is a take-out bag. The smile that comes on your face from seeing him doesn’t want to die down. Fully clad in a fucking suit that has him look good in more ways than one, holding bags of food and with a smile on his face that makes his glasses scrunch up his noise, Tom is the miracle you need on a bad day. 

Heat flows through your veins. Your lungs feel tight, ache but such a good ache that you can only shake your head in disbelief. The small laugh, the ‘ehehehe’ he has in every conversation, echo from your phone as he comes closer. 

“Hi,” he says, and the cheeky, innocent smiles that accompanies has your heart flip. 

And you want to say hi back, it’s just you don’t know words. Your shuts down. All you can do is stare at him and hit the ‘end-call’ button on your phone. At least, your brain wires up as you’re about to lose it to the ground, and you slip it into the pocket of your pants. 

Tom walks past you with a shake of his head and makes it into your kitchen, taking off his shoes on the way. He dumps the bags on the counter and starts to unload them as you close the door and lock it. Still in shock, you slowly move to the kitchen. 

With an amused glance your way, he finds plates and cutlery. “Here you go,” he says and hands you a fully prepared meal that smells delicious and has your stomach make a low growl. Tom laughs at that and pulls out a chair at your dining table for you to sit. 

“Ho―” You cut yourself off. “Why―what?”

He presses his lips together, probably trying not to laugh at your attempt to speak. But he doesn’t say anything as he readies another plate with food. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

Tom chuckles. 

“When did you come back here?” you ask, though you figure that’s a rather stupid question as you’ve said it. “Or more, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked where I was going. I thought it was nice with a surprise.” He shrugs. Shrugs. The audacity. 

“I… You fucking asshole.” 

He purses his lips with another innocent smile. “I do have one of those yes, but I’m not sure about the fucking part.” 

Something mixed with shock and annoyance leaves your lips. “I don’t think I can reply to that,” you say. “What? Who do you think you are?”

Tom shrugs. “Someone trying to lighten the mood.” He takes a bite of his food, leaving the implication of what more he wants to say, up for you to decipher. 

“Lighten the mood? You did that alone with a phone call, this is much worse. This is literally just making my day, on every level.”

He smiles. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

You roll your eyes. “Assistance my ass, you just love getting attention for doing nice stuff, I’m sure of it.”

He doesn’t say anything. Though those blue-green eyes say enough with the look he sends you. It’s so genuine, so relaxed that it eases you out of your stupor of seeing him even more, and you manage to actually bite into your food. 

Water fills your mouth at the taste. It lingers on your tongue as you swallow and you continue to stuff your mouth with food. Not once, during the meal, is your mouth food free. You don’t even take something to drink during it, and the worst part of it all; 

Tom fucking Hiddleston―the man you’ve been crushing on for two weeks―is sitting across from you with this stupid grin on his face watching you eat like the disater case you are. And you don’t care. Which is messed up because you used to care about those things like crazy. 

But with Tom you’ve managed to create an environment where you don’t care. He doesn’t judge you, and you aren’t afraid of him thinking you’re disgusting or weird or anything that has self doubt cloud your mind, because there’s something about him that has you relax and just feel free to be yourself. 

Which is the reason you love spending time with him. Just talking on the phone, or being in his presence, or just texting. Anything that has to do with him, and your whole body eases because he just oozes self-confidence and humbleness. Something tells you he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself, and that you don’t have to be afraid, so you’re not. 

All those things, that’s what makes your heart pound. Makes your hands clammy. Has your shirt cling to your back because god, it’s a little hot in here. Have you become aware that you aren’t wearing a bra and that you know that’s noticeable through your shirt. It’s what makes your gut churn, makes fireworks blow up, and the reason you feel like the places where he touches you during a hug or just randomly because it’s something he does, feel like they’re on fire and that your skin is burning away. 

And you still don’t understand how any of those feelings can be good. Yet, they are. They are the best thing that’s ever happened, because that idea of needing a family, a boyfriend, marriage, and that it’s becoming too late, it’s being pushed on you as you near forty. And no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t care, you do. The thought of Tom being that rescue, well it just has all those feelings start anew. 

“Y/N?” 

You snap out of your thoughts. Tom’s light but quizzical smile has you cock an eyebrow at him. His smile turns amused. “Still tired? Or something else?”

“Yeah,” you say, because it feels like the best option. 

It has him laugh. “Care to tell?”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, not really. Would rather hear how your trip was.” 

He smiles at that. “Rather boring,” he says. 

“That’s it?” you ask. “You went out of the country for three days to, uhh you actually never said where, and you don’t have anything to say about it.”

“It was a work trip, what is there to say?” He shrugs. 

“Excuse me, mister it-was-a-work-trip, but you’re a fucking famous actor who does not have a boring job, so please tell me how a trip for you can be boring?” You jokingly glare at him, which prompts a laugh. It tugs at your heart and it takes a double take, because he doesn’t stop laughing. 

The glare you have turns into a smile that grows with each passing second. Your eyes crinkle at the glee he shows. 

“I just,” he says, still laughing, “I don’t understand how you find that so amusing. Playing it, doing the movie is the funnest part, but I’m not currently doing much more than traveling from place to place. It’s enjoyable, but it can’t possibly interest you.” 

You scoff. “Really?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“If you really need to know, everything you do interests me. You could sleep or just sit quiet and brood, and it would interest me.” The words feel good as you say them, but also comes with a bitter taste of ‘shit-i-said-too-much’. 

Tom proves you wrong when his eyes crinkle and he smiles wide at you. Grins, actually. He lifts his glasses back into place, and straightens up. “I don’t believe that.” 

Another scoff comes from you. 

“What about me is it that’s interesting enough for that?”

You take a deep breath and sit up yourself. The fork in your hand clatters to the plate and you take a moment to rub your neck and clear your head. Then you put your elbows on the table, clasp your hands together and lean forward, staring Tom right in the eyes. “There is so much, you’ll have to use that patience of yours as I continue.”

He smiles and laughs slightly, eyes trained on you intently as you open your mouth again. 

“When we first met, I sat on your lap. Or almost slept in your lap, and all you did was be a perfect gentleman who let me ease from some of my exhaustion. And after that, you were so nice when we went out. 

“You’re easy to talk to. There is no judgement, and that’s always been what held me back, still holds me back, with others. But with you, there is nothing that has me be afraid I’m messing up, because you don’t care. It makes you so human it’s hard to remember that you have such a huge fanbase who could list a thousand things about you without a second's thought to it. 

“Do you have any idea what those little things you do mean? Like today, getting all this because I didn’t feel like getting it myself. And showing up here because you knew I had a bad day and wanted to help? It’s like you’re some kind of guardian angel or something.

“And, and this is the last thing I’ll say because I’m too tired to list everything, you have so many stories and so much information and knowledge. Listening to you is amazing and I could do it forever. Literally, I didn’t know it was possible to be this perfect.”

A blush creeps up Tom’s neck. You can see the red cover the lower part of his face, and he looks down in his lap. “You’re making me blush.” 

You grin at him. “That was the point, if you didn’t get that.”

He rolls his eyes, but the blush and the smile stays on. “You’re too good for me.”

“Nah, pretty sure, according to all those fans of yours, you deserve even better than me.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure most of them say I deserve to be happy.”

You smile. “You do, you know? Whether that’s alone, or with someone, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” he says. 

You beam at him. “Okay, but what do you say to cleaning up this and watching a movie with all the snacks you bought?” You stand from you chair and take your empty plate. 

He nods, and says, “Sounds great,” as you take his too, and place them by the sink. 

With your back to Tom, and the water turned on to wash the dishes, you let out a content sigh, and let the butterflies fly around. The feeling better than it was before, and the feeling that rushes through you with energy and adrenaline, one you wish to keep feeling. 

CONTINUED HERE

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom tags:  @inlovewith3  @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1

tags: @sabine-leo @sunshinein17

bold in the taglist are people tumblr won’t let me mention, send me a DM and we can solve the problem ^_^

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #twh #thomas william hiddleston #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #strangers on a train #imagine #drabble #reader insert #this got way out of hand #tom hiddleston slowburn #slowburn #fluff #tom hiddleston fluff

[inkbloodpaperandbone]

So this is a follow up to this drabble that is also cross posted on my ao3 account here

On the anniversary of the tsunami Buck gets a new tattoo. This time Eddie and Christopher go with him.

It's been three months since Eddie all but jumped Buck in the station's changing room, unable to hold back his feels upon seeing his son's drawing on his now boyfriend's skin.

It's funny but in hindsight not all that suprising how well they've transitioned from best friends to lovers. It's not exactly smooth sailing, no relationships ever are but in a way very little has changed. Only more kissing and umm other stuff.

In the week leading up to the first anniversary no one at work has braved speaking of the upcoming event. It's a date that marks a extremely traumatic time for both men, and Bobby - both the station captain being cautious about any potential risk of having the two at work on such a emotionally charged day and Bobby the friend, wanting to allow them time for themselves to - had given the two men the day off.

Neither had protested.

The city of LA still bore the scars of that fateful day in the streets and sidewalks of the most affected areas. In the buildings still under construction and renovation to repair the damage left by the water and debris. As the date drew closer new memorials for the dead and the missing where remade. But LA and it's people were healing. No matter how slow.

 

They're healing too, this little family of three they've created Eddie thinks on the morning of the anniversary as he watches Christopher cheerily eat rice crispies giggling around each mouthful whilst Buck dramatically throws away the toast Eddie burnt and proceeds to make more. It's a scene he's seen almost everyday now for the past couple of months but it hasn't gotten old yet.

Christopher still had nightmares, although they were becoming fewer and further between. He was still going to therapy and had even begun swimming again. In the shallow end clinging to his dad or Buck but it's progress.

Since learning that Buck had gotten a tattoo of his drawing Christopher has steadily been filling the Diaz household with new tattoo designs. Crayons and markers have been worn down to unusable stubs and there probably isn't a shred of paper that hasn't been doodled on.

Eddie doesn't mind, and has found himself perusing the arts and crafts section of the local superstore, Buck in tow for new supplies.

The news Buck getting a tattoo in reminder of surviving the tsunami (and the subsequent upheaval of the lawsuit, Eddie's fight club drama and the actual work of just dealing with it all) came during the billionth rewatch of Finding Dory with Buck confiding to Eddie in a low voice as not to disturb Christopher who was lodged between them fast asleep on the sofa, that he was thinking of asking Christopher to draw it.

Of course Christopher took to the task with all the enthusiasm a nine year old could muster- which was a lot.

He and Christopher had spent several nights after dinner huddled around the coffee table surrounded by paper and crayons working on it.

The end result wasn't anything elaborate or big - in keeping with the rest of Buck's tattoos.

Buck had also suggested that they made a day of going to the tattoo parlor on the tsunami's anniversary, to replace a bad memory with a good one.

Christopher finishes with his cereal, he rinses out the bowl as Eddie's taught him before hurrying off to get ready for their outing. Both Buck and Eddie where already dressed, Buck looking over the final design fondly as they wait in the lounge.

The design was three small fishes swimming in a wave.

There's been around ten different versions before now, but Christopher has become somewhat of a perfectionist and had deemed each preceding "not right" and thrown away.

Christopher has been telling everyone, friends, family, school teachers, random strangers in the street, everybody, that he's going to be a tattoo artist when he grows up.

Secretly Eddie worries that Chris will be heartbroken if this latest career dream doesn't pan out, although Christopher is likely to change his mind soon enough. He is nine after all and it's less frightening than his kid wanting to be a firefighter or astronaut. The thought of his little boy millions of miles away in outer space - nope not happening, no way.

Christopher's dexterity is good for a child his age with CP, his handwriting is improving and his art - though Eddie is definitely basis - is great for someone his age. Who knows. Maybe.

Christopher emerges from his room a suspiciously full backpack slung over his shoulder. Buck takes it from him and peers inside. When he shows the contents to Eddie, he can't help but laugh. Christopher has crammed a box of crayons, a paper pad, several power rangers and a couple of handfuls of Lego in side.

Buck slips the folded design inside before scooping up Christopher to carry him to Eddie's truck.

Eddie follows locking up behind him.

The drive to the tattoo parlor is a short one - well short for LA, only a little traffic since the morning rush hour has long since died - they arrive twenty minutes before the booked appointment, Christopher audibly excited as the truck pulls up.

The parlor is situated between a fancy free weight gym and a organic vegan coffee shop, it's larger than Eddie expected, there's a huge mural of flowers and birds in mixed styles reaching out over the shop front.

Glass doors lead into a spacious waiting area with a floor to ceiling shelving unit decorated with action figures and retro toys acting as a divider between said area and the actual work space.

Christopher drags his dad over to the shelves for a closer look whilst Buck confirms his appointment with the cheery receptionist a young guy with a purple mohawk and tattoos on every exposed bit of skin besides his face, he introduces himself as Luka and directs them to the couch to wait on before hurrying off to fetch their artist.

Both Buck and Christopher are practically vibrating in excitement. It's cute Eddie thinks as he ruffles his son's curls.

Chris has got the design stored in his backpack along with his latest sketchbook and some crayons to keep himself entertained. The little boy rummages through his bag whilst they wait, occasionally shoving unwanted items into Buck's waiting hands until Chris triumphantly pulls out his drawing.

"Is this the famous Christopher?" A lilting voice calls out. The owner, a short women probably in her mid-forties, the visible skin of her arms and legs adored with flowers and Disney characters, comes into view around the dividing wall.

She hurried over hugging Buck before turning to Eddie, hand out in greeting, they shake hands quickly. "I'm Mara, you must be Eddie, and you must be Christopher."

She shakes Chris hand too making him giggle.

"Well let's get this show on the road."

Lead into the main shop, Eddie looks over the room, more tattoo inspired murals cover the walls, one of which has a large flat screen TV hanging from it. There are three workstations with cushioned benches, wheeled stools and a desks. One station is already occupied, the burring of an ink gun travels the room.

Mara's station is already partly prepped, the bench and it's adjoining rests wrapped in plastic, several ink bottles line up along the desk. As she sets up her equipment Mara explains each step to Eddie, Buck and Christopher, although Eddie notes that she's directing the conversation to his son. Chris is utterly enraptured by it asking questions and peering closer.

Buck sits down on the bench rolling up his t-shirt sleeve to his shoulder. Eddie takes a seat on one of the free chairs, beside it, laying a hand on his boyfriend's thigh. Christopher comes over and Eddie picks him up to set Chris on his knees.

Christopher's backpack and crutches are leant against the leg of the second chair out of the way.

Mara demonstrates to Christopher how his drawing is printed on to a transfer sheet, " Like the temporary tattoos you can get with sweets,"  she explains, " it'll let me trace the design with my gun so it'll match perfectly with your drawing."

Mara, sitting on her stool, scoots up the side of the bench to were Buck is waiting.

"Okay Christopher now I'm going to wipe Buck's arm.." Buck makes a face at Chris as Mara does so causing the little boy to laugh.

"...where the tattoo will go so that the skin is all nice and clean and then we press the transfer paper on like so.."

The transfer paper is pressed to the inside of Buck's right bicep, Mara rubbing the paper to get it to stick down smoothly.

"Hold that there sweetie." She tells Buck as she moves to ready the ink gun with the first needle before turning back to Buck and starts removing the transfer.

"Now we peel it back and the design should now be on Buck's arm." Mara explains shooting a grin at Eddie and Christopher.

It looks really good already" Christopher chimes as the design comes into view.

"Sure does buddy." Buck agrees flexing his bicep like an old fashioned boxer, Eddie rolled his eyes, good god he loves this dork.

There's a part of Eddie that is still scared by how much love he feels for the man in front of him. Scared by how deeply that love has rooted it's way into his heart.

Eddie has had only three great loves in his life, Shannon, Christopher and now Buck. And each love is very different. Shannon was his first love, a highschool sweetheart turned wife and mother of his child. Despite their estrangement, their fumbled reconciliation and her untimely death that love still lives, though it no longer romantic in nature. A nostalgic love, a remorseful love but still love all the same.

His love for Christopher is all consuming. It is fierce and unbreakable. The love of a parent, wildly protective and proud. A love that for a long time was the only real thing Eddie felt he could show the world. Not just another role to play. Another title add to the list, like dutiful son, loving husband, war hero veteran, firefighter etc, etc.

His love for Buck grew out of the kind of friendship Eddie hadn't had since childhood, an easy friendship (despite the rocky start) that filled in the cracks left by Shannon's abandonment, his parents disapproval, the stress of single parenthood.

It grew as Buck began nudging his way into the life Eddie and Christopher were building in LA.

It grew from Buck introducing him to the godsend that is Carla Price. It grew from the endless random trivia Buck spouted. It grew from their seamless partnership on calls, from joking around with their friends.

Most importantly it grew from Bucks devotion to Christopher, his ability to work out ways to make that little boy laugh, to work out ways to help Chris do the things other kids could do. To have Christmas with his dad despite work. From Buck's sheer desperation to find and protect Christopher during the tsunami to his utter relief he was found alive and unharmed. The fact he loves Christopher so much he didn't think twice about getting a tattoo of a silly little doodle just because.

Eddie thinks of this love as Buck holds his arm still whilst another of Chris' drawings is permanently etched into his skin.

All in all the whole tattooing process doesn't take long given the size and simplicity.

Christopher has charmed Mara and her fellow colleagues who come over to say hi and is reaping the benefits of being a cute nine year old as the adults scramble to accommodate his every whim from choosing what to watch on the TV to being set up at a spare desk to draw when he gets bored to getting a chocolate milkshake from the café next door when the parlor's intern goes on a coffee run.

Eddie hopes Chris will never use his cuteness for evil but doesn't protest the spoiling.

Buck turns out to be terrible at sitting for a tattoo. He fidgets and winces. Makes faces and keeps nearly distracting Mara with random questions and jokes.

But Mara is clearly used to this, barely batting an eye and steadily working on.

When the last of the ink is applied and the the excess is wipe away she gives them a chance to look over the work.

It looks good even as the skin starts to redden, Buck is grinning from ear to ear.

"Pretty great huh Chris"

"Yuh huh." Christopher nods excitedly as he scrambles in for a closer look, hand reaching out to poke at it.

"Does it hurt?"

"It does if you poke it buddy." Christopher jerks his hand back.

"Sorry."

Buck laughs and pulls Christopher into a one armed hug, he looks over the boy's head and gestures to Eddie who moves to join in as Mara comes back to finish wrapping up Bucks arm.

She gives him a well rehearsed run down of after care, joking that she knows Buck knows what to do but that she also knows with his luck it's best to be on the safe side.

By the time Christopher's things are cleared away back into his backpack, buck has already paid.

Christopher shuffles shyly up to Mara and hands her a bit of paper. It's a drawing of a tattoo gun, a bit wobbly but clearly it's meant to be a tattoo gun.

Eddie watches as the woman smiles, a little teary eyed and thanks his son proclaiming the drawing will have to be hung up somewhere in the shop.

Christopher preens.

The day's still young as the trio get back into the car, Buck suggests getting some ice cream which Christopher enthusiastically agrees. Eddie knows that ice cream on top of a chocolate milkshake will mean trouble come bed time. But how can he resist the double whammy of both Christopher and Buck's pleading eyes.

They'll be the death of him for sure.

But Eddie doesn't mind.

Today maybe the anniversary of one of the worst days of their lives, but so far it's been pretty great.

So they go and get ice cream. Christopher will make a monstrousitity of chocolate, whipped cream, sprinkles and gummy bears he won't be able to finish. But will get brain freeze from eating his too quickly and will pester Eddie for kisses to make it better. Eddie will pretend to be annoyed but secretly enjoy his boyfriend's silliness.

Today will officially become a cheat day when Buck orders from their favourite Chinese restaurant too tired to cook after running around the backyard with Chris for hours after they get home.

And when Christopher has finally crashed and has been tucked into bed Eddie will grab a couple of beers and they'll sit and watch nonsense on TV.

It'll have been a good day, better than expected but nothing majorly special. Just the three of them, together happy and healthy and whole.

And if Eddie is honest he can't imagine anything better.

Tagging @evaneddie I finally posted yay!

#9-1-1 #buddie #my fanfic #my writing #urgh i almost had a meltdown over this cuz i had to rewrite the first half after accidentally deleting it #but it's done and I'm finished

[ultimatescenarios]

Ahh, this blog is my life hhhh NDRV3 boys trying to braid their Fem! s/o’s hair, please?! It’s just because I’m a sucker for Kaito

YES!! I AM SO ON BOARD

This is what I’ve been missing in my life.

I’m very glad to hear you’re enjoying the blog! Though I’m sorry you gotta put up with my writing-I’ll just post this now before I go to sleep as an apology for making y’all wait for so long!!

- Mod Kaede

NDRV3 Male Cast trying to braid their Fem!S/o’s hair

Shuichi Saihara

Silence. He says nothing; he’s too busy concentrating on the parted sections of your hair.

He’s very careful not to pull or tug on anything that’ll lead to your distress. Which sounds sweet but he’s acting as if one mishap could lead to you shattering like glass.

He has no idea what he’s doing. There’s a reason why he likes keeping his hair short and not needing to style it. And the fact that he’s attempting a classic french braid isn’t helping at all. That’s what he thought you wanted, so he’ll do his best.

But is now lost in the strands of flaking hairs that just won’t stay put. ���How do girls do this every day?” He now feels like girls are some superior being. He had no idea how difficult this was to do, “And you have to do this by yourself!?”

He asks so many questions, from “Is this okay?” to “This doesn’t hurt, does it?” and of course, “It’s not too tight, right?”

His fingers get tangled in your locks countless times during the entire venture. All you can hear coming from him is an amalgamation of winces and apologies.

And by the end of it, you’re given a sloppy, french braid that looks to be like you’ve slept in it for two days straight.

He’s apologizing profusely.

K1-B0

He insists you let him braid your hair. As long as you’re willing to, of course. He would appreciate the experience and chance to experiment.

If you offer to help or explain the basics he stops you short, informing you that he came prepared and has downloaded and analyzed many tutorials prior to this session.

He even asks what kind of braid you would like, even though he would like to attempt several.

Depending on how much static your hair collects, his electric-circuiting shocks you a few times.

It’s not unyielding irritating, more like an electrified jolt that pulses through your scalp and down your spine.

It’s a little relaxing after you get used to the feeling.

He takes his time and is acting very nonchalant about it.

It’s his first time trying this, he’s never had any previous experience. But you’re surprised to see it’s reasonably neat, nowhere near professional though, but considering the struggles he encountered using his stiff robotic hands, he didn’t do such a terrible job overall.

Before you have a chance to look at the entire finished product or even thank him, he’s untying your hair and brushing through it to try again.

You better grab out something to keep you busy. You’re going to be here for a while…

Kaito Momota

Either of you could have suggested the idea really, but after seeing how pretty you looked in braids he wanted to give it a try.

He’s a little rough but isn’t exactly ripping out chunks of hair, just indirect tugging here and there that makes your head sway in all directions.

His hands are fumbling and he’s so confused. Your hair keeps tangling within itself somehow and he’s not helping the situation with the loose grip he has on the sections of your hair.

At some point, he started sticking his tongue out of his mouth with the amount of focus he was putting on such a small task.

He even struggles with finishing the hairstyle. Yes, he continued until the last strands of your hair slipped right off his hands and ruined the whole braid. He was so close to finishing it too.

He’s a little annoyed since the two of you have been sitting here for almost an hour. Which was mostly him trying to figure out how to braid hair without any tutorials…he was beginning to get the hang of it. And proud of that too.

So proud, in fact, he tries again, brushing through your hair with his fingers, whether you try to persuade him to use a brush or not, he claims one of his most repetitive lines: “Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, doesn’t need a brush OR tutorials!”

You must admit his energy and attitude towards what can be a tedious and annoying chore at times, is very cute, and admirable in a way. So you let him have his fun.

Even if he turns your once luscious and unique hair features into something that could be mistaken for a bird’s nest. He’s too much of an adorable dork for you to stay or get mad at. Just admit it.

Rantaro Amami

He knows a few tricks about braiding hair. He was never any good at formal braids but could basic and fishtail braid like a (not-self-proclaimed) pro.

It’s due to his 12 sisters who insisted him, specifically, do their hair for many years. Since he was closest to his sisters in comparison to his half-brothers.

So he’s decently confident with his skills and is sure he’d be able to style a braid in a way to compliment your features.

He gathers a few accessories to add to the mix or aid him in this quest. From bobby pins to decorative clips, he’s got some ideas already festering in his mind.

He brushes out your hair carefully and almost pampers you through the entire crusade as if you were in an overly affectionate beauty salon. Having placed you on the floor with him behind, you should have known some cuddles and kisses would happen eventually.

He’s very calm while piecing your hair together in two, over-the-shoulder fishtail braids. Talking to you like he normally would since it’s almost become a second nature for him to multitask like this.

When he’s finished… Well, you react to the braid however you do, but as much as you might hate to admit it, he does a better job at braiding then you do.But with added accessories accustomed to your skin-tone, preferences and physical features of course it looks pretty! Prettier then it probably should!

Kokichi Oma

He’s seen couples in relationships do this for fun online. You already know he wants to try it for himself.

He doesn’t even notify you of it happening. All you were doing was minding your own business and like a beauty ninja, he’s sitting behind you and brushing your hair thoroughly before parting it into sections…more than three sections at that.

If you dare question it… “Nee-hee-hee~ No peeking, S/O! My talents don’t just end with being an Ultimate Supreme Leader, y’know?” …or even try to get anything out of him about what he’s doing or plotting there’s no chance he’s going to spill. And if he were to, how can you be sure he’s not lying?

So whether you give in or are too stubborn he plays hard to get. “Geez S/O~ If you’re gonna react like that, what’s the point?” And after reacting however you do… “O-KAY~ You’ve persuaded me!” (Literally however you react, whether you remain silent, make a fuss, apologize, get flustered or death glare the brat with a ‘I’m-not-putting-up-with-your-shit-ouma-and-you-know-it’ attitude… god does he loves messing with you)

He’s not the most gentle about it. And you can feel a weight growing above your head…yeah maybe it’s not the best idea to let Kokichi try to braid your hair…

If you try to get a glimpse of him, he’s wearing one of those terrifying smiles that screams devil’s child.

He whines that you were trying to peek and is forced to start again. Blaming you. It’s entirely your fault. Sigh.

When he’s finally done messing with you, you finally get to see he decided to give you a waterfall twist braid.How he has the skills to do this is beyond you.And cough he may or may not have been googling how-to-braid the entirety of the previous night OR been practicing on himself cOUGH.

Korekiyo Shinguji

He’s surprisingly good at braiding hair. He’s had experience styling his own hair in the past. Whether it be for the sake of art, beauty, creative mind, experience or an understanding.

And from the fashion research he’s done in the past about human’s and their trends…let’s just say he knows a lot of different styles and techniques.

He asks if you had a preference and if not he will happily give you a style that will suit your face and frame.

He asks you to wash your hair before hand to get the best experience and outcome from this, whether you go through with this or not is all up to you.

And thanks you for the opportunity to braid someone else’s hair for once.

He takes quite a long time to prepare your hair. Brushing through it at least a few 10 times and clipping away parts he doesn’t wish to get in the way.

He has to pause during the session multiple times to take notes. On how you react, to how it feels being on his end, he even asks you questions during moments of massaging your scalp, tugging on the strands and so forth. “It’s for research, S/O. A passionate Anthropologist must get accounts from those within society to get a better outlook of the entire spectrum. And since this is a rare encounter I must document every precise detail.”

When he finally gets along with it, he doesn’t struggle as much as you’d think through his bandages. Over the years he’s grown accustom to their feel and how to utilize his senses.

It takes time, since he wanted to test his skills (and take so many notes). But once he’s finally finished and your neck and back are killing you from resting in the same position for over an hour. He outdid his previous attempts at braiding and gave you an inverted fishtail braid.

Ryoma Hoshi

How you got him to do this. I don’t know. But he’s braiding your hair anyway. Well done S/O.

He goes with the simple and standard braid. Whether he intended for it to be loose is for him to know and only him.

You have to do most of the work, like combing your hair. And while he doesn’t know why you want him to do this, he goes along with it anyway. Eventually confessing “It’s things like this I missed while in prison.”

Admittedly he enjoys fiddling with you locks. It’s a strange sensation he hasn’t really experienced since he prefers to keep his hair extremely short.

He goes silent at some point. You didn’t for the room to go quiet, but really he almost gets lost in the feeling of your strands of hair. You wouldn’t know it of course. The expression he’s gained after many years of enduring what happens within the walls of a prison has made it so he’s unreadable.

But the fact that it takes him about 30 minutes to give you a three strand braid gives away how much he was enjoying pampering you in such a way.

He’s talking himself down again, unsure why you wanted this in the first place.

But it looks nice. The amount of looseness around the back of your neck makes it feel like it’s not even there. It’s comfortable and because it’s tied together won’t get knotted or caught on anything.Oh and! It perfectly fits on both of your shoulders and doesn’t irritate your beck at all! Ifitslongenoughofcourse seriously, love this boy!

Gonta Gokuhara

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You might think he would…but there’s a reason why his hair is so…natural.

His robust hands don’t help the situation either. He’s struggling to traditionally braid your hair. And apologizes for the amount of times he needs to start all over again.

Eventually he settles with giving the hair around your ear special attention and gives you a small braid that almost blends into your hair.

He asks so many questions. To keep a conversation going and to know what you would prefer.

He decides to add in some flowers he recently picked in the meadow. Just so the braid appears more apparent drowned in your locks.

He’s very new to this, so please have patience with him. He’s very glad you suggested this. And what kind of gentlemen would deny a lady of such a lovely wish?

It doesn’t take him long to finish the single braid. And he’s so happy with the end result. But the fun isn’t over yet. He gets a little carried away with tucking in pieces of flowers and natural greenery.

He wants to try again. He’s so eager about it too. You’re making him rethink his own hairstyle…maybe the two of you could match? Couples often match with each other, right?He’s not finished btw. practice makes perfect, so you know whenever you want/need your hair braided he’s gonna offer to do it for you.

also since the English localization is popular with a lot of the English fans I’ll just write my future prompts in correlation to the English localization to lower chances of confusion.

Unless some demand the Japanese quirks (Ouma using the honorific ‘chan’ for everyone, the original laughs {i.e Nishishi, Kyah-kyah-kyah, Kukuku}, Tenko’s pun of MENace, Angie/Gonta/Tenko’s speaking mannerisms, etc) feel free to lemme know! I’d be happy to add such details in!especially since the eng localization has been brainwashing me to the point where I almost forgot Tenko’s pun … her PUN

#ndrv3 #imagines #ndrv3 imagines #ndrv3 imagine #ndrv3 boys #shuichi saihara #saihara shuuichi #kaito momota #momota kaito #gokuhara gonta #gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi #hoshi ryouma #kokichi oma #ouma kokichi #amami rantarou #rantaro amami #kiibo #k1-b0 #keebo #korekiyo shinguji #shinguuji korekiyo #mod kaede #aaaaaaaaaaaaa #female s/o #s/o tag

[dwtspd]

DWTS S27 Week ONE!!! Nights 1+2 review

Man, when I saw Tom I suddenly felt like it had been AGES since I watched this show, then I realised, I didn’t even watch the athlete season. My friends told me it’s not worth it so I will probably never watch it.

Idk how the two-night thing is gonna work out so this is a combined post.

Night 1

Mary Lou Retton and Sasha Farber - Cha cha okay, was that video package kinda short? Also maybe it’s cos I’m not American but I’m soooo over all the “yay USA” themed dances. Anyhows, Mary Lou is a former US gymnast who won gold in 1984, the first US woman to do so. No mention of her current embroilment in the USAgym-gate. Okay, she can definitely remember steps. She needs to work on timing and also getting those latin shapes. 6-7-6 T19 huh that’s kinda harsh?? Might have been 1-2 pts higher if she went later I think.

Milo Manheim and Witney Carson - Cha cha Sorry Milo, but Zombies aiiiin’t that great. In case anyone doesn’t know, Zombies is a cheesy af DCOM musical. I really like his energy though. “Tell me about yourself.” “I’m still in school.” I love that. It’s quite refreshing cos we don’t get young male contestants as often as the girls. Whoa, he has those hips! I don’t think his limbs were as messy as the judges made it sound. His legs looked a little awkward during the cha-cha walks. That aside, this dance was so fun to watch! 7-6-7 T20 “That’s good, that’s good!” Witney tells him. Again, I think he could get a tad higher scores if he went later.

Evanna Lynch and Keo Motsepe - Foxtrot OMG Keo’s reaction was priceless. Evanna probably needs no introduction, but anyway, Luna Lovegood. She wanted to go to dance college, but was rejected so DWTS was the next best thing. I think the song did them in, but I found some of her movements too sharp for a foxtrot. She has nice frame and did something weird with her hand once. Definitely has potential. 7-5-6 T18 oooooh Len that was harsh. Tom, the correct term is he who shall not be named.

Speaking of, I like the new green glitter score background.

Danelle Umstead and Artem Chigvintsev - Foxtrot Danelle is a blind alpine skier but gosh she has good footwork and lots of grace. Her shoulders came up a bit and I think she had to adjust her footing going into the spin. When I saw the opening, I was like “Artem is making her walk down the steps to him??!!” At least they went down together. I think her and Artem will be a very nice, friendly, genuine partnership. 6-6-6 T18

Side note: I really didn’t need to hear “Rise Up” again.

Bobby Bones and Sharna Burgess - Jive Bobby is...a lot of things. I’ll say entertainer. His main schtick right now is his country radio show. Guy has boundless energy, I’ll give him that. Jive suits him. He had to point his feet, and the footwork was real rough. If he was judged for enthusiasm though, he’d get a perfect score. 7-6-7 T20 yeah that’s too high. I think the judges got a little high off his energy. I think he should be sitting at a 16-17.

Juan Pablo Di Pace and Cheryl Burke - Salsa Juan Pablo is an actor most recently from Fuller House and Mamma Mia. Uh huh, here’s the sexy hot couple of the season right here. It took really long to get into actual salsa though. Some of the moves looked unpolished and uncertain, but he had a sense of timing and can move. his. hips. 7-7-8 T22 haha we all knew Bruno would like it.

Ayyyy hey Rashad! Apparently he’s going into hosting, showing us the DWTS BTS web series. Go support that guy, he’s an all-round all-star.

Nikki Glaser and Gleb Savchenko - Salsa Nikki is a comedian and entertainer. She told Gleb he looks like he should be emerging from a pool, which I’m pretty sure he has done before for some modelling thing. Apparently she got injured over the weekend. Could have affected the performance. She seemed fine in rehearsal but looked really ginger and reserved while dancing. Her limbs looked awkward. Arms were kept really close to her body and her legs...I don’t know any other way to describe it except “baby giraffe”. 6-5-6 T17

Alexis Ren and Alan Bersten - Jive Alexis is an instagram influencer and model. She’s doing the show for her late mother who enjoyed it. Okay I’ll say it here, she is the one to beat technique-wise. My only complain is she could be more bouncy. Everything else was spot on IMO. I think her possible downfall would be her sketchy voting base. Lots of insta followers doesn’t necessarily mean they will vote. We’ve seen that with past social media stars. 7-7-7 T21 I think she should be equal with Juan Pablo honestly.

John Schneider and Emma Slater I’ve never heard of his Dukes of Hazard show but his name sounds familiar. He’s done so many things, I’ve probably seen him somewhere. Well he certainly has the right attitude. His dancing was...here and there. Some times I was like ‘oh, that’s not bad’ and then i’d be like ‘okay that needs improvement’. I think he’s good enough and charming enough to appeal to the DWTS demo though. 7-5-6 T18

Tinashe and Brandon Armstrong - Jive Tinashe is a singer...who I’ve never heard of. But I live under a rock. Brandon is newly promoted and awwww he’s so adorable. He gave her lots of content which she handled fairly well. She was very clean but I feel like it was toooo clean. Like you know how if you strip water of too many minerals it’ll just burn your tongue. I feel like sometimes I was watching a stick figure dance. Could have used more bounce. CAI’s comment didn’t make sense. 8-7-8 T23

Nancy McKeon and Val Chmerkovskiy - Quickstep Nancy was an actor from a show called The Facts of Life which probably pre-dates me. She has the facial expressions!!! Quickstep on week 1 is no joke but she kept up for most of it. Yup she was wobbly at times, because she was lacking the contact in hold with Val, but that seems to be a Thing TM with all his partners so it’s more Val’s fault. For a while I was like “omg is Val choreographing a solid routine with moves in hold??” and then they broke hold. I’m surprised Len didn’t call that out. Nancy was reall animated in that section though. 6-6-6 T18

Joe Amabile/”Grocery Store Joe” and Jenna Johnson - Quickstep Joe is from the Bachelor franchise and got his nickname because he owns a grocery store. He wants to become Dancing Joe now. He’s kinda cute, sorta charming in a slightly-awkward-little-self-depreciative way. Very likeable guy. I think with his personality and the bachelor backing, he’ll stick around for a while. Yeah that definitely wasn’t the best dance. He was flat footed, made mistakes, getting QS definitely didn’t help either. Can see he is trying to stay positive. 5-4-5 T14

Demarcus Ware and Lindsey Arnold Soon to be NFL hall of fame inductee. Has won the Super Bowl. You know, I hate American football as a sport, but these NFL guys always come in and work hard and it pays off. Demarcus can move and seems to have hella groove, with personality to boot. He’ll have to clean up some lines, but I can see him growing a lot on this show. Such a delight! 8-7-8 T23

Night 2

Ohhhhhh I love that opening number!! I can see why it’s not a premiere opener but wowwwww.

Okay so apparently the bottom half after judges score and votes from night 1 will have to dance again. Everyone else would have rehearsed a second dance for nothing...I guess. I feel like maybe they should have let everyone dance their second dance, but only score those in jeopardy.

Rashad out there with a message for Demarcus. I was kinda waiting for that the first night.

Safe - Demarcus, Tinashe, and...JOE!!!!!! That was the chillest reaction to a (not so) surprise safe.

Jeopardy - Nancy

DWTS Jr pros dance and make me feel old. Jake Monreal!!! And okay, JT Church has some ballroom moves. There’s one brunette guy (not Sage) who has nice hair. And the blond boy looks a little familiar but I can’t put my finger on it.

Safe - Juan Pablo, Bobby

Jeopardy - Nikki, John, Alexis

Alexis and Bobby’s placements are telling about the voters.

Okay. I watched the two episodes back to back. People I forgot about by the time I started night 2: Mary Lou, John, Danelle, Nancy. Also I knew Tinashe, Evanna and Juan Pablo were there but I kinda forgot how their dances looked.

Lmao Milo and Tom. “Why are you so scared about what I’m gonna ask you?”

Amy Purdy with a message for Danelle. She looks so different than I remember.

Safe - Milo, Evanna

Jeopardy - Danelle, Mary Lou

Okay so summary Top 7: Demarcus, Milo, Juan Pablo, Bobby, Evanna, Tinashe, Joe Bottom 6: Alexis, Danelle, John, Nikki, Nancy, Mary Lou

So they are bringing back the Judge’s choice encore from when they had result shows. This week: Demarcus.

They introduced the Junior stars. I’m having a hard time remembering who is who but: - JT’s “OH MY GOSH” when his pro-skateboarding partner did a trick - Mackenzie Ziegler is not a “pop star” she’s as good as a pro dancer. WHO’S BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE HER A CONTESTANT???!?!?

Can they intro the Jr pros too? All the cast of Juniors including the adult pros do a dance number and all I get from it is that red latin shoes are not in style.

Okay so we don’t have time for 6 dances or something so John is safe and won’t have to dance for his life any more.

Couples will dance the same style as night 1, but the choreo and song will be different.

Mary Lou and Sasha - cha cha okay I dunno what their rehearsal strategy was, but this dance felt very basic and less rehearsed than their first. She was more precise and controlled, but seemed to have less energy in it. 7-7-7 T21

Danelle and Artem - foxtrot the rehearsal vids seem to imply the couples were only given Monday night to come up with their second numbers. If so it must have disadvantaged Danelle. She was more timid and reserved. 6-6-6 T18

Nikki and Gleb - salsa She looked more confident this time. Legs less giraffe-y. Her arms were still awkward. 6-6-6 T18

Alexis and Alan - jive Ooooohhh this was good. Her technique was good again, but I think the mood of this dance suited her far better. I think she had a lot more energy and personality in this performance. 7-8-8 T23 Len says it is the best dance of the night and I agree as does Bruno.

Nancy and Val - quickstep Oh dang, the shorter dress exposed Nancy’s shortcomings. Her lines were wonky and she still looked a little unstable sometimes in hold, which was easier to see in this costume. It also made her look like Tweety Bird tumbled dry, They stayed in hold this time though. 7-7-7 T21 that seems generous.

Okay so Mackenzie Ziegler sings. She has a decent voice. Gotta set herself apart from her sister I guess.

Online voting for night 2 was open for...10 minutes? And I wager only US east coasters could vote.

Results time! (finally.)

Safe - Danelle, Alexis (yay!), Mary Lou

Nikki vs Nancy...Eliminated: Nikki. no surprise.

My favourites are Milo and Alexis. Also rooting for Danelle on a slightly lower tier. Surprisingly, Evanna isn’t really on the forefront of my mind.

Also, whether or not the couple danced on the second night might affect their memorability. Like, Bobby make an impact night 1, but after night 2 I kinda forgot about him. The only person who didn’t perform night 2 who I remember is Milo. Everyone else I was like “oh wait, who’s here again?”

#DWTS #dwts27 #dancing with the stars #evanna lynch #milo manheim #keo motsepe #witney carson #demarcus ware #lindsay arnold #danelle umstead #artem chigvintsev #nikki glaser #gleb savchenko #nancy mckeon #val chmerkovskiy #alexis ren #alan bersten #mary lou retton #sasha farber #joe amabile #Jenna Johnson #bobby bones #john schneider #sharna burgess #emma slater

[theclaravoyant]

Sparks - Ch.7 [Simmorse]

AN ~ Hi everyone! Sorry this last chap took so long, but it’s here now, and it’s super fluffy :D Enjoy! and thanks for all your support. This fic is now complete!

Read on AO3

Sparks - Ch.7

Visiting hours were over and the hospital lights were dimmed. Jemma was awake, and bored. Bored of bed rest. Bored of her book. Bored of this room. She hobbled over to the window and looked out, searching for something. She wasn’t sure what. Her eyes scanned the horizon, but she couldn’t see many stars; muted by the city lights. The streets below were the usual hubbub of busy cabs, busy cars, busy people on their way home from work or ducking to their local take-out. Jemma felt a bit let down by it all. Strange. After almost being blown up, one would think she would embrace the mundanities of life, but now everything seemed so dull that she couldn’t help looking for something more.

(For Bobbi? A voice whispered in her head.)

It had been a week and Bobbi hadn’t come to visit - or made contact at all, for that matter. Daisy had sworn that she’d promised to follow them, the day it had happened, but Mack had told her he’d taken Bobbi to a train station. She could be anywhere by now. If Jemma were Bobbi, she’d probably be out of the country, on the run, or maybe even already buried in a new identity. The man at the show had been a false alarm, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t given herself away. It was understandable that she’d left.

It still stung.

Jemma poured herself a glass of water and let her eyes drift back down to the magazine she’d had Daisy smuggle in for her earlier. She wasn’t supposed to have contact with any articles about herself while she was in here but this one was of special interest. It was tabloid trash, nothing more than wild speculation, but speculation about her and Bobbi and whether or not they were in a relationship. Jemma snorted. She wished. But the grainy magazine candids of Bobbi out and about with her were all she had and damn it, Jemma was feeling quite pitiable at present and intended to keep them until something better came along. Or until Daisy convinced her to burn them in a Broken Heart Bonfire, but Jemma wasn’t quite ready to admit her heart had been broken. By what? By a missed opportunity? She sighed, and took a miserable swig from her glass.

“Woah, slow down there, Ace. That’s the hard stuff.”

She froze. Then turned - slowly, disbelieving - until her eyes validated what her ears had imagined. It was Bobbi, in the flesh, standing in the doorway to her hospital room with a police shield clipped to her collar and a folded up sheet of paper in her hands. For a while, Jemma could do little more than stare and gape, and Bobbi smiled, a flirtation that did not reach her eyes.

“Careful, they’ll have a field day with that expression,” she quipped. “Looks like they finally dropped the rabbit killer story, huh?”

Bobbi nodded at the magazine. Jemma’s eyes dropped down to it, even though it was obvious what she was referencing.

“Most of them,” Jemma agreed, her voice tight. A flare of anger seized her. That Bobbi had waited so long and not explained herself… all of a sudden, this whole thing felt like a betrayal. Trying not to grit her teeth, Jemma demanded: “What are you doing here?”

Bobbi held up the sheet of paper. A letter.

“Figured the least I could do was show my face.”

Jemma’s anger dissipated at Bobbi’s solemn tone. She snatched the letter, and ran her eyes over it: Bobbi’s resignation, effective immediately. Her jaw hung loose, and it took her a few seconds to find the words to protest.

“You can’t do this!”

Not her best, but it felt strangely like she was being stabbed right now, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just her pulling at her stitches. Maybe it was the steel in Bobbi’s eyes, the stone-grey steadiness of her voice.

“I haven’t worked for you a month yet. I don’t have to give notice. You can check my contract if you like.”

“That’s not what I mean. You can’t – I mean, you can’t just – “

Jemma tried to pull words out of the air like ‘sudden’ and ‘unprofessional’ but they wouldn’t come, because what she meant was you can’t leave me. She wanted to be unprofessional with Bobbi. She wanted the sparkle, the steam, everything. And now it was so close, and yet so unfathomably far from possible. Bobbi shook her head.

“I made a mistake, taking that job in the first place,” she explained. “I’m not ready to be in a high stakes home front situation. It should be one or the other. I put your life in danger because I was seeing things, because I was being controlled by my fear and my past. I need to take a step back. Get my mental health under control. I thought I had it but I didn’t. I’m getting there, but I just can’t get there and be here at the same time. I’m sorry."

She swallowed, and her cold resolve faltered, betraying genuine sorrow. When she stepped back toward the door, her whole body seemed to drag, and Jemma couldn’t help but reach after her.

“But- !” Jemma cried, and cast a line into the universe for an idea. “What if – what if I hire you as my personal trainer instead? No combat, no high stakes. Just mornings at the gym three, four times a week. Whatever you want.”

Bobbi hesitated. Her smile grew a little. Jemma felt her own grow too.

“What?” she asked, daring a little tease. Her hopeful eyes begged Bobbi not to take another step toward that door, and when she stepped further into the room instead, Jemma’s heart began to beat faster. Louder. She remembered that day in the gym and her cheeks flushed as Bobbi confessed:

“Well, I… guess was hoping to see you a little more often than that.”

Jemma tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. “Really?”

“If you’ll have me,” Bobbi agreed. “I mean, I’d still be happy to help you train, of course, but… maybe we could grab a smoothie at the juice bar after?”

“I’d like that.”

“Lets set a date, then. When are you getting out of this joint?”

Jemma groaned.

“Well, at this rate I’m going to be on bed rest until the day I die, but the doctors say I should be able to go home by the end of the week. Maybe we could skip the training and just stick with the juice?”

“You got it.” Bobbi nodded. “Next Monday at ten?”

“I’ll put it in my diary right now.”

Jemma gestured to her planner (meticulous, leather-bound, and waiting on the bench a few inches from Bobbi’s elbow like kismet), and retreated to the bed. She groaned with relief, still not used to being upright for long periods of time since the surgery, and Bobbi smiled ruefully as she passed the diary over.

“You know,” she remarked, after a moment. “I’m working with the police, on your case.”

“Way to step back,” Jemma jabbed. Bobbi rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a field officer, I just ask questions. I’m a consultant. And I wouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth too hard, missy.” She tapped the badge on her lapel. “That’s how I got in here today.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking me some questions, then?”

Bobbi glared sardonically. This was clearly supposed to be a ruse. But it would be good to have Jemma’s testimony, and now was as good a time as any to get it, rather than calling her down to the station, especially in this state. Obligingly, Jemma tore a page out of the notes section of her planner, and passed it and her pen to Bobbi for questioning.

“Alright, fine,” Bobbi grumbled. “Miss Simmons, besides the environmental activists we have currently under investigation, do you believe you have any enemies?”

Jemma snorted.

Bobbi blinked at her.

“You are joking, aren’t you?” Jemma could see that Bobbi was not, and almost laughed. “I was a forensic ME for almost ten years! My testimony put dozens of criminals away! Criminals of the there’s a body after their crime variety. Of course I have enemies. What are you smiling about?”

Bobbi tried to school her expression but she couldn’t. Relief sang through her.

“It wasn’t me,” she breathed, by way of explanation. “All this time I thought it was my fault but it could have been anyone. Jemma, I’m sorry, but – thank God.”

She put her hands to her face, absorbing the realisation. Even she was surprised at just how much of a bizarre relief it was. Of course, that meant there were more potential enemies out there, but it also meant higher chances that whoever was gunning for Jemma, if they were going to come at her again, was not doing so with the resources of a small army behind them. Bobbi could handle that.

(No, she reminded herself. Not her. The police.)

“We’d better do this properly, then,” she insisted, fervour quickly overcoming her flustered relief as she returned her attention to the problem at hand. “I think you should go into the station. As soon as possible. Like, tomorrow. I’ll get someone to check you out.”

“Okay,” Jemma agreed. “I’ll come. Anything to get out of this place for a few hours.”

“Brilliant," Bobbi agreed. Then quieter, to herself, she murmured: “I’m going to make it right.”

Jemma wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to have heard that, but she had, so she replied – just as softly: “I know you will.”

Bobbi met her eyes, and Jemma looked back steadily. Unfazed by her vulnerability. Unresentful about the dangers Bobbi felt she had brought to Jemma’s doorstep. Her face seemed to be saying, I understand. The soft smile returned to Bobbi’s face. Satisfied with her success, Jemma smiled too. Hers was a little more smug.

“Come here,” she beckoned gently.

Bobbi narrowed her eyes a little, but obeyed, stepping in until her legs were touching Jemma’s bed.

“Closer,” Jemma insisted, tugging at Bobbi’s arm until she leant down.

Jemma stole a kiss. Bobbi was happy to give it. It felt like the sun should have come up when they pulled apart, but it had not. They just stared at each other, feeling flushed and warm and right.

“Well… that was unexpected,” Bobbi said, after a moment. Jemma tasted like pineapple jelly. That was unexpected too.

“I know,” Jemma replied. “I just always wanted to do it.”

A lot had happened in a short time between them, but Bobbi remembered that reference. Proud of herself, and feeling quite the object of desire, she was about to go in for another kiss when they were interrupted by a knock. From the doorway, a nurse glared at them sternly.

“That doesn’t look like official police business, Detective Morse,” she pointed out. “I’d hate to have to call your superiors. These hallowed halls are not to be violated after hours for a quickie.”

Jemma bit her lip. Bobbi did a better job at keeping her expression steady, but not by much. For some reason, she had the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. Fortunately though, she managed not to, and instead mustered some degree of decorum to reply.

“Of course, ma’am, I apologise. My friend and I have a lot of catching up to do, is all."

“Well, you can do it tomorrow between the hours of twelve and four.”

Bobbi glanced back at Jemma, who waved her off.

“Go! I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’ll come bust you out as early as I can.”

“Does that mean you’ll be checking me out?”

Bobbi smirked. “It most certainly does.”

The nurse cleared her throat. Bobbi ducked her head, with the decency to look a little chagrined, and took her leave. Jemma turned her attention back to the note she’d made in her planner earlier. Turning the page pointedly back one, to the current week, she made another.

Crime solving & juice!

She added a love heart, for good measure, and smiled as she settled down to sleep.

#simmorse #aosfemslash #aosfic #aospositivitynet #jemma simmons #bobbi morse #clara's fic tag #my longest femslash and my.... second? officially completed multichap! #i'll probably make an edit for it sometime soon...

[brainfoodgp]

Brain Food Garden Project Blog February/2017

“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.”  –Cicero-

Reading has been important to me from my earliest childhood memory. My grandmother taught me to read when I was very young and gave me my first “big boy” series of books, 9 lovely stories of early prairie life starting with Little House in the Big Woods, as a gift when I graduated kindergarten. My first and lasting literary memory is of a little Laura Ingalls playing a game of throwing a hot pigs bladder, like a ball with other children, after the seasonal slaughter and preserving of the pig of course. Now that’s a memory you want sticking with you for the rest of your life��right?

When you are bullied as a child for being different or not behaving exactly the same way everyone else behaves you look for any means of escape. You don’t at eight years old identify diving with the Nautilus for deep sea adventures or escaping pirates on Treasure Island as a “wellness tool.” However, at 44 when you are waving your wand around at a Death Eater for let’s  hypothetically say the millionth time, reading the Harry Potter series, it is probably time to make the connection…OK!

All joking aside, the importance of reading for me is one of my most important wellness tools. And that is why this month’s feature section is a short list for some of the books that keep me going or informed me in some way or that I discovered at that perfect moment in time. In “Notes From The Resistance” this month, we continue to share some important and relevant news stories about the current state of our democracy. And who says a healthy meal can’t be decadent. One of or BFGP gardening family members brought this Cauliflower Crust Grilled Cheese Sandwich to our attention. Every time I make it I’ll thank Ruth Gendreau Bennett and trust me when I say you will too. Whatever you read in the coming months I hope you are entertained, educated or inspired to change the world to make it a better place. Happy reading.

The BFGP Feature:

So many books so little time. These are a list of books that I have been reading since the election in November until now. Next month I will bring back the “What I’m Reading” section but all of these books listed in this feature are books that literally have helped keep me focused and have worked their magic to keep me mentally healthy.

In A First-Rate Madness: Uncovering the Links Between Leadership and Mental Illness by Dr. Nassir Ghaemi a book I read several years ago that I picked up and started  re reading after the outcome of the election. This amazing read helped to prepare me for what was to come with the new leader of the free world being a fascist authoritarian. Dr. Ghaemi breaks down the leadership styles of many historical figures to showcase how their mental health concerns, if there had been such a diagnosis in their time, contributed or hindered their leadership styles. It is a fascinating read that covers Lincoln to Kennedy and Gandhi to Hitler.

Long before my hero Khizr Khan offered to loan the fascist his copy of The United States Constitution at the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia. I myself have been carrying around my own copy of the Constitution for years. There is no better sword for fighting ignorance in those that probably haven’t read the document since high school government class. You want to argue why our founding father’s wanted to build a “Christian nation” let me slap you down with their own words. You don’t understand why the fascists contempt and suppression of our free press is Unconstitutional please let me introduce you to Amendment 1 of the Bill of Rights. You think all Americans should have the right to bare semi-automatic weapons let me introduce you to the actual second amendment. I can’t help but feel if more Americans carried around a copy of the US Constitution instead of a gun we all might be better off for it.

Books have always had this magical way of finding me just when I am at my lowest and always in the most unexpected ways. In this scenario picking up a book from my mother’s bookshelf that I had never read and sent her as a Mother’s Day gift. Relationships between mothers and sons can often be challenging even difficult. However, add a Christian fundamentalist mother to a gay, bipolar activist son and life is often combustible. The Rainbow Comes and Goes by: Anderson Cooper and his mom Gloria Vanderbilt entered my life at the perfect time. Although their story is far different than my mothers and my story. It made me realize that even the best mother and son relationships have limitations. It is how we deal with those limitations that make us stronger.

The Book of Joy By: His Holiness the Dali Lama and the Archbishop Desmond Tutu was a gift from a friend waiting for me after the long holiday break. Reading their discussions and breakdown of the 8 pillars of joy helped me through a growing depression that could have gotten much worse. The four pillars of the mind: perspective, humility, humor and acceptance and the four pillars of the heart: forgiveness, gratitude, compassion and generosity continues to heal me every day. One of the books greatest teachings that I am still processing is you cannot truly have forgiveness unless you are fully capable of total acceptance of things you have absolutely no control over.

Gardening as everyone reading this blog knows is one of my greatest wellness tools it is the very foundation that Brain Food Garden Project is built on. Starting my first two Farm School classes in January and February—Food Justice and Botany opened up many lines of questions for me. The reading material that accompanied each class opened my eyes to new ideas and concepts that I had been thinking about for a long time but provided answers in a completely different context. Beyond the Kale: Urban Agriculture and Social Justice Activism in New York City By: Kristen Reynolds and Nevin Cohen, Symbiotic Planet: A New Look At Evolution By: Lynn Margulis, Botany for Gardeners By: Brian Capon and A Botanist’s Vocabulary By: Susan K. Pell and Bobbi Angell. I am grateful to the teachers that provided these resources, answered my questions and inspired many more questions that only I can answer for myself.

One of the reasons I love gardening so much is its ability to make us all more mindful. I have been revisiting a book I read many years ago in preparation to introducing the material to my garden club members this season at ACMH. The book Digging Deep: Unearthing Your Creative Roots Through Gardening By: Fran Sorin. This lovely book with wonderful exercises helped me to envision my best self at a time I needed it most. Now I’ll see if Sorin’s message will inspire others.

Reading has brought me greater empathy for others, a deeper understanding of my true inner self and immense joy and pleasure throughout my life. During dark and difficult times books have lifted me up making it easy to embrace reading as a cherished tool for recovery. If any of the books I discussed here find their way onto your reading list drop me a message and let me know about your thoughts. I started this writing with the line so many books so little time. I plan on getting through as many wonderful books as I can before I take my final breath! Reading truly brings me infinite joy.

Notes From The Resistance:

So we are 15 weeks in and the fascist authoritarian party (formally known as Republicans) have been busy. They have enacted an un Constitutional ban on Muslim immigrants and citizens in many cases. They have ended protections in schools to stop bullying and keep our Transgender kids protected. They are working overtime to kill The Affordable Care Act taking vital insurance or limiting resources for some 20 million Americans. These are some stories from the front lines over the past month. We must never normalize any of this hatred we must keep fighting and resist.

1.)  The regime still continues to attack science any way they can… Click here

2.)  Many of us living with mental health concerns cringe a little when we hear people refer to the fascist leader as mentally ill. This article sums up those feelings… Click here

3.)  The protests over the fascists police state immigration round up continues as “detention” camps and private prisons profit… Click here

4.)  The big Agriculture farmers that voted for the fascist are starting to have doubts over his leadership… Cick here

5.) Guns let’s put them in the hands of our most vulnerable citizens sound like a good idea?… Click here 

Healthy & Delicious Recipes:

When I curl up with a good book on a rainy afternoon nothing makes the day even more perfect than sipping and munching two of my childhood favorites a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich! You know cauliflower is one of my favorite brain foods and this recipe for a Cauliflower Crusted Grilled Cheese Sandwich is going to become one of your favorites, trust me.

Ingredients

Makes 2 grilled cheese sandwiches

Cauliflower crust “bread” slices

1 small head cauliflower, cut into small florets (should yield 3 cups of cauliflower rice)

1 free-range organic egg, lightly beaten

½ cup / 1.7 oz / 50 gr shredded mozzarella cheese

½ teaspoon fine grain sea salt

¼ teaspoon ground black pepper

Grilled cheese

1 tablespoon butter, room temperature

⅓ cup / 3 oz / 85 gr sharp cheddar cheese, grated/shredded, room temperature

Directions

Cauliflower crust “bread” slices

Preheat oven to 450°F (220°C) and place a rack in the middle.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and liberally grease it with olive oil. Set aside.

In a food processor rice the cauliflower florets (it should be evenly chopped but not completely pulverized).

Transfer cauliflower rice (about 3 cups) to a microwave-safe dish and microwave on high for 8 minutes, until cooked.

Place the cauliflower rice in a tea towel and twist it to squeeze as much moisture as you can (I usually squeeze out over a cup of liquid). This is very important. The cauliflower rice needs to be dry, otherwise you’ll end up with mushy dough, impossible to use as slices of bread.

Transfer the cauliflower rice to a mixing bowl, add egg, mozzarella, salt and pepper and mix well.

Spread cauliflower mixture onto the lined baking sheet and shape into 4 square.

Place in the oven and bake for about 16 minutes until golden.

Remove and let cool 10 minutes before peeling them off the parchment paper (be careful not to break them!)

Assemble cauliflower crust grilled cheese

Heat a pan over medium heat.

Butter one side of each slice of cauliflower crust bread (preferably the top part).

Place one slice of bread in the pan, buttered side down, sprinkle on the cheese and top with the remaining slice of cauliflower crust bread, buttered side up.

Turn the heat down a notch and cook until golden brown, about 2 to 4 minutes.

Gently flip and cook until golden brown on the other side, about 2 to 4 minutes.

[nathanielburgos]

Why Some Americans Renounce US Citizenship

In 2019, a list of 2,071 Americans chose to renounce U.S. citizenship, and 2020 looks to be no different. Based on the numbers from the first two quarters, the 2020 number will grow could more than quadruple. A staggering 5,313 Americans have already surrendered citizenship this year.

But that’s not all. According to a survey by deVere Group, an independent financial advisory organization, a staggering 73% of Americans abroad are tempted to give up their U.S. passports. With an estimated 7.6 million Americans living abroad, that translates to approximately 5.5 million Americans re-assessing the value of U.S. citizenship.

Known formally as renunciation of citizenship, it is the act of voluntarily giving up citizenship in a country. Citizens of a country may renounce citizenship as a way of expressing philosophical differences, avoiding mandatory military service, becoming asylees or avoiding obligations of tax laws. There are a variety of reasons.

So why do some Americans renounce U.S. citizenship?

Reasons Why People Renounce U.S. Citizenship

The U.S. government does not release information on why individual Americans renounce U.S. citizenship. Thus, it is impossible to say exactly why there has been a growing trend in renunciations. However, the consensus agrees that people appear to be avoiding taxes and penalties. But the Trump presidency has given expatriation a boost.

But this doesn’t mean that everyone that renounces U.S. citizenship is an unpatriotic tax cheat or tax evader. Money has always been one of the primary reasons to renounce U.S. citizenship. After all, U.S. citizens are taxed no matter where they live.

Critics of American tax law consider U.S. global income tax compliance and disclosure laws to be exorbitant and oppressive. U.S. persons living abroad are most severely impacted by these laws. In addition to paying tax in the country where they live, they must also pay a U.S. income tax.

What’s more, renunciations spiked by 39% shortly after the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act (FATCA) came into effect. FATCA became law in 2010 and makes it more difficult for U.S. citizens to hide assets in overseas accounts. But many are finding it difficult to bank abroad as a US citizen.

So in many cases individuals are driven to renounce US citizenship not because of taxes but because of the costly tax bureaucracy.

“Almost none of them have to pay any tax – it’s just the hassle and expense of dealing with the paperwork,” said David Lesperance, a Canadian tax and immigration lawyer who routinely assists American expatriates.

More Expensive to Renounce US Citizenship

There was no cost to renounce U.S. citizenship until July 2010, at which time a fee of $450 was established. In September 2015, the U.S. State Department raised the fee to renounce U.S. citizenship by over 400 percent. The cost was increased from $450 to $2,350 in an effort to deter Americans overseas from renouncing citizenship. According to the State Department, the latest increase to $2,350, is “reflective of the true cost” of processing. It is easy to be skeptical of this reasoning, but there may be some truth to it.

Renunciation of citizenship is one of the more labor-intensive tasks within a consulate. The U.S. government will make applicants jump through numerous hoops to complete the process. This is an effort to make certain the applicant understands the permanency of the act.

Nonetheless, the fee does not seem to be a deterrent. After all, the tax savings for wealthy individuals may be significantly more than the fee.

How to Renounce U.S. Citizenship

By law the process to renounce U.S. citizenship is fairly straight forward. You can read the law in section 349(a)(5) of the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA) (8 U.S.C. 1481(a)(5)). In practice renunciation can be a very tedious and time-consuming process according to those that have done it.

Fundamentally, a person wishing to renounce his or her U.S. citizenship must voluntarily and with intent to relinquish U.S. citizenship:

appear in person before a U.S. consular or diplomatic officer;

in a foreign country (normally at a U.S. embassy or consulate); and

sign an oath of renunciation

But the exact process may vary by consular office. In addition, there is a fee of $2,350 to process the request.

There are five basic steps to renounce U.S. citizenship:

STEP 1

Speak to a U.S. Immigration Attorney

You have the right to renounce U.S. citizenship. Before doing so, you should understand exactly how this will affect you and your family. Although you may be motivated by taxes or philosophical differences, you should make sure that renunciation is the best solution for you. With very few exceptions, renunciation is an irrevocable action. Speak to an experienced US immigration attorney before proceeding.

STEP 2

Determine Your New Home

You must renounce U.S. citizenship at a consular office outside the United States. Although you don’t have to select a consular office in your new home country, most people choose to do so out of convenience. It is also highly recommended that you obtain legal status and a passport in your new home country. Although U.S. law doesn’t require you to have another passport, some consular offices will make the renunciation process more difficult if you do not have the ability to travel. This is for your own protection. Without a new home country with legal immigration status, you will become stateless, under the protection of no government.

STEP 3

Prepare U.S. Renunciation Forms

You will only need to prepare a single form before your appointment. Download and prepare Form DS-4079, Request for Determination of Possible Loss of United States Citizenship.

However, there are several other forms that the State Department will use to process your renunciation. Review these before making your appointment:

DS-4080: Oath of Renunciation of the Nationality of the United States

DS-4081: Statement of Understanding Concerning the Consequences and Ramifications of Relinquishment or Renunciation of U.S. Citizenship

DS-4082: Witnesses’ Attestation Renunciation/Relinquishment of Citizenship

DS-4083: Certificate of Loss of Nationality of the United States

STEP 4

Schedule & Attend Renunciation Appointment

It is probably most convenient to schedule an appointment at a consular office in your new home country. However, some offices can have very long wait times for appointments. It is possible to use an alternate consular office in a different city or country.

In addition to the prepared DS-4079, take other important documents such as your US passport, new passport, birth certificate and other identification.

At the end of renunciation appointment you will be provided with DS-4083, Certificate of Loss of Nationality. Although your renunciation will need to be officially approved by the U.S. Department of State before it is finalized, this DS-4083 is your physical proof that you’ve completed the process to renounce U.S. citizenship. Keep this document in a safe place; it could take several months to get the State Department approval.

STEP 5

Prepare a Final U.S. Tax Return

You will need to settle your taxes with the United States. Your final tax return will be from January 1st through the day you expatriate. In addition to the final tax return, you’ll probably need to file IRS Form 8854 (Expatriation Information Statement) with it.

For the best results, contact a certified public accountant (CPA). Depending on your situation, you may also need to file FBAR paperwork. And if you have a more delicate situation, consult with a tax attorney that has experience with renunciation.

Famous Americans to Renounce U.S. Citizenship

Eduardo Saverin, a prominent Facebook co-founder, renounced his U.S. citizenship in 2011, and moved to Singapore. The Wall Street Journal estimates that the move saved Saverin an estimated $700 million in capital gains taxes.

W.E.B. DuBois, was a noted writer, historian and sociologist who co-founded the NAACP. However, he grew increasingly radical throughout his life and eventually embraced the principals of communism. He renounced his U.S. citizenship and lived out his final years in Ghana.

Terry Gilliam, a member of the Monty Python comedy troupe, is the group’s only American born member. Gilliam spent several years as a dual citizen of the U.S. and England but finally decided to renounce U.S. citizenship in 2006 as the estate tax loomed.

Tina Turner, one of America’s most legendary singers, is now a Swiss citizen. Turner’s romantic relationship eventually led the couple to settle in Switzerland. She naturalized in Switzerland and renounced her U.S. citizenship in 2013.

Ted Arison immigrated to the U.S. from Israel to make millions. He co-founded Norwegian Cruise Lines and later founded Carnival Cruise Lines. Arison even owned the Miami Heat. But the crushing blow of taxes led him to renounce U.S. citizenship in 1990 and return to Israel.

Queen Noor of Jordan was born as Lisa Halaby in Washington D.C. But when she married King Hussein, she was forced to renounce her U.S. citizenship and become a Jordanian citizenship in 1978.

Bobby Fischer was an American chess prodigy and grandmaster whom many consider to be the greatest chess player of all time. After becoming the 1972 World Chess Champion, Fischer fell in and out of trouble until he found asylum in Iceland as a citizenship in 2005.

Barbara Hutton was an American socialite and heiress to the Woolworth fortune. Hutton would marry seven times, and two of those marriages resulted in citizenship changes. She became a Danish citizen for her second husband and Dominican citizenship for her fifth husband.

Earl Tupper was the founder of Tupperware. Without much warning, he sold his company is 1958 for $16 million, renounced his U.S. citizenship and purchased an island off the Costa Rican coastline.

Yul Brynner, was a Russian-born actor who held dual Swiss and U.S. citizenship. However he lost his tax exempt status by working by working too long and chose to renounce U.S. citizenship in 1965 to avoid being bankrupted by the taxes and penalties.

Elizabeth Taylor, the Hollywood icon with eight marriages to seven husbands, tried to renounce her U.S. citizenship in 1965. Taylor couldn’t bare to take an oath that she would “abjure all allegiance and loyalty to the United States.” The State Department turned down her request.

Government Reporting of Renunciation

The U.S. government publishes a list of Americans who renounce U.S. citizenship each quarter. The Quarterly Publication of Individuals, Who Have Chosen to Expatriate, as Required by Section 6039G, is a publication of the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) in the Federal Register, listing the names of certain individuals with respect to whom the IRS has received information regarding loss of citizenship during the most recent quarter.

Year and QuarterCitationNumber of Renunciations Q1 2019 84 FR 20954 1,018 Q2 2019 84 FR 41807 609 Q3 2019 84 FR 61137 183 Q4 2019 85 FR 7847 261 Q1 2020 85 FR 27507 2,907 Q2 2020 85 FR 47843 2,406

Irrevocability of Renunciation

Renunciation of U.S. citizenship is a major life decision with irrecoverable consequences. You can’t just change your mind later. If you are considering renunciation of U.S. citizenship, you should understand that the act is irreversible, absent a successful administrative review or judicial appeal.

However, the law does provide some leeway for individuals who surrendered citizenship as minors. An applicant who renounced his or her U.S. citizenship before the age of eighteen (or lost citizenship related to certain foreign military service under the age of 18) can have that citizenship reinstated if he or she makes that desire known to the Department of State within six months after attaining the age of eighteen.

Ensure that you are fully confident the decision to renounce U.S. citizenship is the right thing to do for you and your family. Speak to an immigration attorney with experience in renunciation.

About CitizenPath

CitizenPath provides simple, affordable, step-by-step guidance through USCIS immigration applications. Individuals, attorneys and non-profits use the service on desktop or mobile device to prepare immigration forms accurately, avoiding costly delays. CitizenPath allows users to try the service for free and provides a 100% money-back guarantee that USCIS will approve the application or petition. We provide support for the Application for Naturalization (Form N-400), Application for Replacement Citizenship Document (Form N-565), Application for Certificate of Citizenship (Form N-600), and several other immigration services.

Note to Reader: This post was originally published on January 6, 2015, and has been modified with improvements.

Source: U.S. Department of State

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[its-lifestyle]

By Supreet Kaur

Bobby-boy is an adorable, lovable miniature Schnauzer with quite an interesting story to tell.

He used to be in a pitiable situation for much of his life: he was a victim of abject neglect.

I am not sure how it works but there is a system at play that brings like-minded individuals into contact with one another. Thanks to their networking skills, the grapevine makes further connections and they become aware of some little fellows in distress who need to be rescued.

A young girl named Usha alerted this grapevine about Bobby-boy. This drove my daughter to the doorstep of a dog-owner who should never have owned a dog in the first place. She offered to take Bobby off his hands, and the guy readily agreed. She put Bobby-boy in her car and drove him home.

Bobby-boy arrived at our doorstep, unkempt and looking traumatised. He emerged from the car looking clueless, and smelling like a convoy of garbage trucks! How was he living with himself, we wondered. We were told that he was maybe 14 years old.

My daughter gave him a good bath and scrub, took a closer look at his condition, and found that his eyes were badly infected. Bobby was unable to open one eye because the fur surrounding it was matted due to the thick layers of discharge that had dried up and formed a stubborn crust, sealing the eyelid completely. Bobby-boy could not see nor hear too well.

Even the bath did not help much; he still stank to high heaven. After looking him up and down one more time, I felt he had come to our home to die – he looked that bad. The stench coming from him was quite unbearable.

We called him Bobby-boy, and considered what we could do to improve his condition. Appointments with the vet and pet groomer were fixed for the next morning. The vet managed to clean up the mess surrounding his eye, so he could open it. He started his vaccination schedule and began treating Bobby-boy’s eye infection and skin rash.

The groomer gave him a crew-cut in a bid to resolve the putrid smell that followed him everywhere, pervading our home and car as well.

Bobby-boy paced the floor non-stop for the first couple of days. He was probably puzzled by what was happening to him. He was no trouble at mealtimes, and ate well. He was very docile and hardly ever barked – must be the result of long years of neglect and circumstances. He was never allowed indoors but lived all his life in a section of the veranda enclosed by a grille. What did he do when it rained heavily or the hot midday sun beat down on him?

Only God knows. He is a voiceless creature, which is why I decided to give a voice to his feelings and sufferings.

We took Bobby-boy to see the vet regularly, and the staff at the clinic grew quite fond of him. The vet observed his improved condition as time passed, and said Bobby-boy wasn’t 14 years old but most likely between eight and 10.

His eyes would require long-term attention, but otherwise he was progressing very well. The groomer, meanwhile, took pride in handling Bobby-boy with extra care, saying that he had never been groomed before and all this attention was very new to him.After he had been with us for a few months, we grew attached to him. We never wanted to give him away but we did not have a garden for him to run and play in, which he deserved. He lived with us indoors. He did not even know what furniture was, or that he could sit in a chair. He never climbed on one. In contrast, my son’s fur-kid, Toffee, is a cuddlesome furball that happily jumps into bed with us and snuggles up to whoever she chooses.

Bobby-boy in his favourite pose: the Sploot. Photo: Supreet Kaur

Bobby-boy was more than happy to occupy the special “den” he had created beside the dining table, with the old bedcover we gave him. He used his lovely long Schnauzer snout to spread or tuck the bedcover in whichever way he pleased. The distinguishing silky smooth fur on his face and ears started to grow and frame his distinctive Schnauzer silhouette. He was now a joy to behold – no more foul odour.

Then we started to look for a family who would adopt him and love him even more than we could. A family of four came enthusiastically and took him away. Bobby-boy was so trusting, and so were we, that we let him go.

When my daughter paid them a visit a few weeks later, she found that their enthusiasm had waned considerably (read: evaporated) and Bobby-boy was in a deplorable state. She took him back and headed home, much displeased. Her network of friends advised her to be more cautious in dealing with any prospective “forever families” in future.

The second time around, she found a family with a rescue furkid of their own. They seemed genuinely interested, and even allowed my daughter to view their home and surroundings before making a decision. It was this family who would be his Forever Family. My daughter has since paid a visit to this family and come back amply reassured that Bobby-boy is in a really good place. He now has a family, a home and a garden, a companion, and most important of all, he has found much love, and all of this I believe are components of a Really Good Life.

We can’t get him out of our thoughts. though, but constantly think of him at any time of the day or night. When he was with us, at mealtimes he would come and wait at the kitchen door, head tilted to one side, as if asking how much longer it would be before lunch/dinner was served. He had a long list of favourite foods. He was adventurous and tried Chinese takeaway, fast food and Indian breakfast delights, with gusto. He loved warm milk and buttered toast, too. But he was delighted with paratha and poorian chholey as well. This endeared him to me, and he was promptly given the monikers Panjabi Puttar and Panjabi Munda, among a string of other names. Oftentimes I even called him Smokey as the name matched his pretty grey coat.

On cold nights, he was happy to wear a T-shirt to keep him warm. He never responded when you called Schnauzerout his name because he was supposed to be hard of hearing. But the moment the utensils in the kitchen created some sounds, he was alerted to the many possibilities those sounds meant, and was at the kitchen door in an instant.

Was he hard of hearing or was he bluffing all of us? No, but when the fire crackers made a thunderous racket at midnight on Chinese New Year’s Eve, he happily slept through it. But when there was a clap of thunder in the distant sky, he would come bounding up the stairs to us, looking for comfort. And we thought all along that he didn’t know how to climb the stairs!

He was a real joy for as long as we had him in our midst. He had obviously never possessed a ball or a soft toy even as a puppy because when we offered him a few toys, he showed no interest. He did not know how to play! But who cares; he needs no toys now. He is as happy as a lark in his new environment.

We miss him with much affection and we wish him every happiness. He deserves it.

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