#vide-wow

[threepoint14art]

Owynn!

[aturnoftheearth]

stranger next to me at red rocks 2025: so what brings you all the way out here to colorado?

me: well ummm. how much do you know about the cw’s supernatural .

[mydanishdarling]

WHAT THE HECK!!!!!???

I seriously didn’t know you had tumblr! I saw you had twitter but not tumblr!! This was such a huge surprise😆😆

Literally told my mum, cousin and brothers XD (lame I know)

THANK YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️ Love your videos!!! And plz never stop!!! @espoirduvide @huyosumi

[shelovesosa]

BEST PARENT WARS

art credits to jj59u on X

Pairing : singledad!Satoru x singlemom!reader

Contains : FLUFF, pretend megumi is gojos Biological kid…, domestic vides, Nanami cameo, dilf gojo , chaotic, idiots in love, he want that cookie BAD, slight enemies to lovers

Summary!! A petty rivalry ignites when Nobara complains about Megumi’s perfect lunches — made by his smug, sunglasses-wearing dad, Satoru. You fire back with your own over-the-top lunchbox masterpiece, launching a full-blown schoolyard cold war of snacks, supplies, and sarcastic notes. The kids are over it. The teachers are watching. And neither of you will admit you’re starting to enjoy the battle a little too much.

Part 2 >>>

The morning began with the hollow clink of a spoon in a mug, the scrape of chair legs across the linoleum floor, and a faint yawn echoing down the narrow hallway of your small but lived-in apartment.

Sunlight filtered through the mismatched curtains of the kitchen window, striping the breakfast table in honeyed gold and dusty shadows. A faint breeze passed through the open balcony door, carrying the smell of early spring—wet sidewalks, soft pollen, and the hint of cherry blossoms that hadn’t yet bloomed.

You stood barefoot at the stove, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and leggings, trying to stay awake as the eggs sizzled in the pan. The electric kettle behind you clicked off, steam rising in a slow coil. A familiar pair of feet padded into the room behind you.

“Morning, lovebug.”

A mop of dark brown hair peeked around the corner. Nobara’s eyes were barely open, her pink pajamas rumpled and sliding off one shoulder.

She rubbed her eyes and mumbled something into the sleeve of her shirt.

You turned the heat down and set her plate at the table. “Food’s ready. Toast’s got the jam you like—the one with the berries and the tiny seeds.”

Still half-asleep, she clambered into her seat and stared at the plate like it offended her.

Then, slowly, her shoulders slumped.

You noticed it right away. She didn’t swing her legs like usual. Didn’t hum or complain about the egg’s edges being too brown. Just sat there, silent, picking at her toast.

You took a seat across from her, concern rising.

“What’s up, baby?”

She didn’t answer right away. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. Then, with a sudden surge of quiet frustration, she dropped her toast and crossed her arms.

“There’s this boy in my class,” she muttered, almost like she regretted bringing it up.

You tilted your head, already bracing yourself. “Go on…”

“His name’s Megumi. He’s weird. He always has his bangs in his face like a video game character.”

You covered your mouth to hide a smile. “Okay…”

“And yesterday,” she said, sitting up straighter now, voice rising with offense, “he brought this ridiculous lunch. Like, full-on restaurant style. There were little flags in his rice, and his food was cut into tiny shapes. He had an actual bento box with layers. Layers, Mom!”

You blinked. “Wow.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

You waited.

“He had strawberries. But not like the ones from the store. They were… they were fancy. Like peeled or cut or something? No green. Just soft and perfect and shiny. And everyone in class lost their minds. Even the teacher said it was adorable.”

You laughed softly. “That sounds kind of cute.”

Nobara’s lips twisted in fury. “It was a power move.”

“A power move?”

“Yes. Because after that, all the girls were like, ‘Ohhh Megumi, you’re so lucky!’ and they were sharing with him and trading bites and asking to sit near him. And I was just sitting there with my regular sandwich and a juice box like a total nobody.”

You frowned, your heart twinging. “Sweetheart, you are never a nobody.”

She glared at her plate. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t even eat half of it. I was too mad. I just drank my juice and stared at the window like I was in one of those sad dramas you like.”

You blinked. “Okay, I feel personally attacked.”

She cracked the faintest smile, then went back to sulking.

You leaned across the table and gently pushed her hair out of her face. “You know what I think?”

Nobara didn’t look up.

“I think if some boy is going to show off like that, then we should show off even harder.”

Now she looked at you. “What?”

“I’m saying tomorrow… you’re walking into that classroom with a lunch so good the whole school talks about it.”

Her eyes widened, cautious. “Really?”

You nodded. “Rice flowers. Maybe heart-shaped egg rolls. Dessert. Sauce containers. The works.”

She leaned forward. “Can we do those baby sausages with the octopus legs?”

“I don’t know how to do those.”

“Please?”

You smiled. “Okay. For you? Anything.”

She beamed so brightly you could practically feel the pride returning to her little shoulders.

You leaned back. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“No fighting in the cafeteria.”

Nobara shrugged. “No promises if he brings peeled mango.”

You spent the rest of your day like any other — a balancing act between deadlines and errands, bills and groceries, switching from work mode to parent mode in five-second intervals.

But that night, once Nobara was asleep, curled under her fluffy pink blanket with a stuffed rabbit under her arm, you stood in the middle of the kitchen and stared down your enemy: the rice cooker.

“You’re going to work for me tonight,” you muttered, pressing the lid with authority.

It hissed to life.

You chopped vegetables with a dedication you hadn’t felt in weeks. Molded rice into neat shapes using a set of cheap plastic cutters from a forgotten drawer. You arranged the food like a tiny puzzle: carrots curled into spirals, broccoli tucked into a corner, baby tomatoes skewered with little picks shaped like animals.

You even made a tiny egg roll with cheese inside.

When it was done, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand and smiled down at your masterpiece.

Then you drew a quick doodle on a sticky note — a bunny in sunglasses, giving a thumbs-up — and wrote:

“You’ve got this. Show them who’s boss. <3”

You stuck it under the lid.

A proud warmth bloomed in your chest. Take that, Megumi, you thought, turning off the kitchen light.

The next morning started with nervous energy.

Not Nobara’s — yours. Your hands were sticky with leftover rice and your bangs clung to your forehead as you triple-checked the lunchbox. You’d woken up a little earlier than usual — okay, a lot earlier — and skipped your usual five-minute scroll in bed to boil the eggs and heat the mini sausages again.

You’d even wiped down the bento box with a microfiber cloth like it was going to be inspected under a microscope.

Nobara, for her part, was calm. Too calm. She sat at the table in her school uniform, sipping her milk with quiet confidence. Legs swinging. Hair brushed and tied into her usual side ponytail with the bow she picked last night. A smug grin on her face.

“You think he’s going to be jealous?” she asked.

You slid the bento box into her backpack with dramatic flair. “Jealous? He’s going to cry.”

“Good.” She drained the rest of her milk like a villain toasting their evil plan.

You chuckled and handed her the lunch bag. “Just… be gracious about it, okay? We don’t need a bento-themed civil war in your classroom.”

“I’ll try,” she said innocently. “But if someone cries, that’s their problem.”

You pinched her cheek. “Who raised you?”

“You.”

“…Fair.”

Outside, the weather had warmed just enough to trick you into forgetting it was still March. The street buzzed with life — the hum of school vans, barking dogs behind low fences, the whir of a scooter passing too fast.

You held Nobara’s hand as you approached the school gates, slipping into the stream of other parents and kids. There was the usual chatter, backpacks bouncing, jackets slipping off shoulders. The cherry blossom trees lining the school yard were just beginning to bloom — delicate pink petals clinging like secrets to every branch.

Then you heard it.

“Megumi, wait up! You forgot your scarf!”

A loud voice rang out across the courtyard like someone had plugged a mic into the morning.

You turned instinctively toward the sound. There he was. Tall. Carelessly stylish. Sunglasses on his face like he was walking a red carpet instead of a sidewalk.

The man behind the pudding smiley face.

He was holding a striped scarf in one hand and a bright yellow lunch bag in the other. You watched as he crouched down beside a dark-haired boy — Megumi, presumably — and wrapped the scarf gently around his neck, fussing over the knot like it mattered.

Megumi stood there like a statue, arms crossed, letting it happen with the expression of someone who had accepted his fate long ago.

You stayed where you were, watching in silence as Satoru adjusted the kid’s collar and then, with zero shame, ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head.

“Be good,” he said.

Megumi mumbled something. Probably “stop it” or “you’re embarrassing me,” though the words were lost in the wind.

You felt Nobara tug your hand. “There he is,” she whispered like you were scouting an enemy encampment. “That’s the bento boy.”

Your gaze flicked between the two of them. Satoru spotted you before you could look away. He grinned. And then he waved. A big, full-arm wave, like he was greeting a long-lost friend.

You blinked. Your eyebrows raised on instinct. You gave him a polite little nod. He started walking toward you.

“Uh-oh,” Nobara said under her breath.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Uh-oh.”

“Hey!” he said, cheerful like caffeine in human form. “You’re Nobara’s mom, right?”

You nodded slowly. “That’s me.”

“Satoru Gojo,” he said, offering a hand like this was a networking event. “Resident lunchbox tyrant.”

You laughed in surprise and shook it. His hand was warm, his grip light. “So you admit it?”

“Oh, completely. Megumi hates the attention. I live for it.”

You looked past him to where Megumi stood with his class, stoic and still. “Seems like he’s handling it well.”

“He’s a tough kid,” Satoru said. “Raised by the best.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “I saw the bento.”

“And I saw yours.” His smile widened. “Smiley face on the rice. Bold move.”

“Carrot stars,” you said. “Respect.”

“I didn’t know we were playing a game,” he said, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Well,” you said, smirking, “you started it.”

“True,” he nodded. “But I think you escalated it.”

“You brought pudding for the whole class!”

He gasped. “You saw that?”

“It was in the group chat.”

Satoru laughed so loudly that a few parents glanced over. “You’re right. It was a bit much.”

“Are we… doing this again today?” you asked, curious.

“Only if you are.”

You looked at him — at the tousled white hair, the half-zipped hoodie, the ridiculous sunglasses, and the way he smiled at you without a hint of self-consciousness. Then you grinned back.

“Round two,” you said. “Bring it.”

By lunchtime, the group chat was exploding. A mother uploaded a new photo of the bento display in the classroom — this time featuring not one, but two spectacular lunches.

Yours had made a splash. Heart-shaped onigiri, grilled vegetables shaped into flower petals, the rabbit napkin Nobara insisted on, and a tiny handwritten note folded into origami.

You felt proud. Giddy, even. Until you saw his.

Satoru’s creation was a monstrosity of love and chaos: a three-tiered bento box with tiny rice animals wearing nori bowties. There was a cartoon version of Megumi's face made out of seaweed and cheese. There were hand-cut apple rabbits. A slice of cheesecake with gold sprinkles.

He even included a tiny menu card. You stared at the screen in silence.

Then typed:

“This is getting out of hand.”

Satoru replied within seconds:

“Don’t hate the player, hate the lunch.”

You stared at your phone and let out a laugh so loud it startled your coworker across the room.

That evening, when Nobara burst through the front door, she was glowing.

“MOM,” she shouted, dropping her backpack like it owed her money. “They LOST THEIR MINDS.”

“Yeah?”

“Everyone said my lunch was better than yesterday. And that little origami note? That’s going in my pencil case.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Mission accomplished.”

“But…” she added, serious now. “Megumi brought dessert again. He said his dad likes to experiment with toppings.”

You blinked. “Did he now?”

“So,” she said, eyes gleaming. “What’s for tomorrow?”

You stared at her. At her spark. At this ridiculous little game you and another parent had started without meaning to — and how now it had become something that made your kid feel seen. Confident. You grinned.

“We make cookies tonight.”

The kitchen smelled like sugar and war. You were bent over the baking tray, carefully spacing out spoonfuls of dough as Nobara hovered next to you, holding a bowl of M&M’s like it was rare treasure.

“Do we add the candies before or after baking?” she asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Before. Just press them in lightly so they don’t melt into weird blobs.”

“Like that time you made chocolate chip lava?”

“Okay, first of all, that was an accident,” you said, pressing an M&M into the soft dough. “And second, you still ate three.”

“I was being polite.”

You looked at her flatly.

She grinned. “And hungry.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugged at your lips anyway. It had been years since you’d baked like this — not just for sustenance, but for fun. For your daughter. For her pride. For something petty and strangely sweet that had grown between you and Satoru without either of you saying it out loud.

He was… charming, in that ridiculous way. Confident. Cocky. Endearingly extra.

And if you were honest with yourself — and that wasn’t always your strong suit — you’d started looking forward to his texts more than you wanted to admit.

Not that you liked him. Not like that. Probably.

You pushed that thought aside and slid the tray into the oven.

“Alright,” you announced. “Operation Cookie Overkill has begun.”

The next morning, Nobara practically skipped to school.

She held the clear box of individually wrapped cookies like a trophy. You’d let her decorate the labels — bright marker hearts and gold star stickers that looked like they were made by a seven-year-old with a grudge.

“Remember,” you said as she waved goodbye. “Share.”

“I’ll generously distribute,” she said, puffing her chest. “Like a queen.”

You watched her run toward the gate, weaving through backpacks and familiar faces.

Then, from across the lot, you saw Satoru again.

This time, he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. Just a gray hoodie and jeans. His hair was as chaotic as usual, but there was something different in how he stood — a little straighter. Less performative. He looked… handsome.

And unfortunately, he caught you staring. He smiled. No wave this time. Just a small nod. You gave one back and quickly busied yourself with your phone.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the flicker in your chest.

By noon, the cookie war had become a school-wide event.

You were at work, halfway through a salad, when your phone buzzed.

📸 Photo from PTA Chat Caption: “Nobara brought cookies for the whole class today! Adorable! And delicious! ❤️🍪”

You smiled. Scrolled.

Another parent chimed in:

“Satoru’s cinnamon rolls yesterday were amazing, but these cookies?? We’re getting spoiled!”

And then…

“Someone get these two a bakery already.”

You blinked. Re-read that one twice.

Before you could type anything back, your phone buzzed again — a private message this time.

From… Satoru.

Satoru: Okay. You win today. The cookie with the little smiley face in chocolate chips? Ruthless. I’m down. But I’m not out.

You stared at the screen, warmth creeping up your neck. You typed, then backspaced. Typed again.

You: I accept your surrender. But I expect retaliation.

Satoru: You will regret that.

You stared at your phone. Grinning like a fool.

That evening, just as you were unpacking Nobara’s bag, there was a knock at the door.

You opened it, only mildly surprised to see Kento Nanami standing on your porch. Crisp shirt. Jacket. Tie. Always dressed like he’d just stepped out of a finance meeting. Even after all these years.

“Kento,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He offered a small, polite smile. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

You stepped aside. “No, come in. She just finished dinner.”

He nodded and stepped inside. You could feel the shift in the air immediately. A little heavier. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

Nobara lit up the moment she saw him.

“Daddy!”

He crouched as she ran into his arms. “Hey, sweetheart.”

They hugged tightly. Her hair spilled over his shoulder. And for a moment — just a moment — you could see the family you once were, like a photo you hadn’t meant to keep in a drawer.

Kento stood, brushing her bangs aside. “How was school?”

She lit up. “Mom made cookies! I passed them out and everyone went wild. Even the teacher said we should open a bakery.”

Kento smiled. “Did they now?”

“Megumi said we were being dramatic, but I think he liked them too. He ate two.”

You froze slightly at the name. You hadn’t mentioned Satoru to Kento. Hadn’t meant to.

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask.

Instead, he turned to you. “She’s doing well.”

You nodded. “She’s… thriving, actually. Which is new.”

He paused.

“I’m glad.”

You both stood in that silence, not quite awkward — just old. Worn. Familiar.

Then he asked, “Do you want me to take her next weekend?”

Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Sure. Yeah. She’d like that.”

“She misses the cat.”

“She told me.”

You both chuckled softly.

He looked at you for a long moment before saying, “I’m glad she has you.”

And even though it was quiet, and simple, and deeply Nanami — it made your stomach twist a little.

He still cared. You knew that.

But love, in the way you both needed, had slipped through the cracks long ago.

Satoru walked into the classroom on Thursday morning carrying a giant box of craft supplies, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, and a confident little bounce in his step.

“You volunteered for class decorations?” the teacher asked, bewildered.

“Art is passion,” he replied smoothly, laying out glitter markers, limited edition washi tape, and a mechanical hot glue gun that looked military-grade.

You stood in the doorway behind him with a tray of cookies you’d baked for the class. You smiled politely.

“Satoru.”

He turned. “Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there, Miss Martha Stewart.”

“Crafts and snacks?” you mused. “How generous. Overcompensating?”

“For being better?” he asked. “Always.”

You leaned in with a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t trip over your ego. The kids might need the glue gun.”

By Friday, the teachers knew.

So did the kids. One of the parents whispered, “Are they fighting or flirting?” The answer was unclear.

Satoru had started writing messages inside his bento boxes. Not to Megumi — to you.

Today’s note:

“If food is the language of love, then you’re grammatically incorrect.”

The whole lunch table laughed.

Nobara rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s funny.”

You snapped your chopsticks. “He thinks wrong.”

That night, you stayed up sketching a meal plan for next week.

It included:

* Onigiri shaped like your face.

* A thermos of miso soup that would spell “LOSER” in seaweed letters.

* A sweet treat shaped like a crown. Because, obviously, you were winning.

The next morning, you packed it all with a note.

“Didn’t realize ‘obnoxious’ was a flavor. Hope you like eating your words.”

Nobara shook her head in awe. “You guys are crazy.”

You kissed her forehead. “Crazy never loses, baby.”

Later that night, after the dishes were done and Nobara was asleep with her arm flung over her stuffed rabbit, you sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath you.

Your phone buzzed again.

Satoru: So. About Monday . Have you ever seen a bento shaped like an aquarium?

You laughed. Softly. Quietly.

Then you typed back.

You: I’m not scared. Bring the fish

It was the kind of Monday morning where everything felt too still.

The sky was pale, streaked with soft morning hues. You could hear birds chirping through the cracked window, the slow rhythm of life starting outside — but your apartment held an anxious buzz. The kettle hissed on the stove. Nobara munched toast loudly from the kitchen table.

And you? You were sweating over seaweed.

“Okay, okay—what does a goldfish even look like in rice?” you muttered, fingers trembling slightly as you tried to press a cutout into shape. You’d watched two YouTube tutorials. You’d used a cookie cutter. You’d begged a god you didn’t believe in.

All for one reason: Satoru Gojo and his threat of an aquarium bento.

Well, no. Just Satoru now. And he’d made it clear in his last message: this was war.

“You're acting like he’s your boyfriend,” Nobara said, watching you from the doorway as she chewed. “You should just ask him to come over and make lunch together.”

You dropped the rice mold.

“Excuse me?”

She grinned. “It’s obvious, Mom.”

You stared at her, flustered. “What’s obvious?”

“That you’re into him.”

“I am not into him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You stayed up to boil eggs at midnight and print tiny edible labels.”

You pointed a spoon at her. “You’re grounded.”

“I’m eight.”

You sighed dramatically and turned back to the bento. “This is for you, you know.”

“Sure. Totally. For me.”

You paused. “Is he… talking about it at school?”

Nobara shrugged. “Not really. But Megumi said his dad was ‘up all night yelling at seaweed.’”

You smiled, despite yourself.

You arrived at school just as Satoru did. He had one hand on Megumi’s shoulder and the other holding something under a cloth cover like he was revealing a masterpiece.

He wore a soft blue sweater today. Simple. Gentle on his frame. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d only just blow-dried it, and his sunglasses were pushed up into his hair.

He looked… softer than usual. You lifted a hand in greeting as you approached, and he smiled—wide and genuine.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Born ready.”

Megumi groaned beside him. “You two are embarrassing.”

Nobara gasped. “Us?! You’re just mad because we have better food.”

Satoru laughed and pulled the cloth off his creation.

And there it was. A full-blown underwater-themed bento. Blue-tinted rice shaped into waves, seaweed coral fans, cheese-starfish, and tiny carrot octopi with sesame-seed eyes.

You blinked.

He grinned. “Still not scared?”

“I respect the craftsmanship,” you said, peeking into your own container. “But I think my jellyfish dumplings are going to win.”

You opened the lid. Satoru leaned in.

“Oh my god—are those noodles shaped like eels?”

“You bet your sweet seaweed they are.”

You both burst out laughing. Megumi and Nobara sighed in perfect harmony.

The school principal sent a message at noon:

We love your creativity, but please tone down the lunches. The other kids are starting to get upset.P.S. We would love for both of you to volunteer at the spring festival next month.

You stared at the message. Then your phone buzzed again:

Satoru: We’ve been punished. But… group punishment? Are we officially in this together now?

Your heart skipped.

You: I think we’re lunch criminals.

Satoru: Does this mean we finally grab that coffee? Or are we keeping it competitive?

You: Coffee. But only so I can interrogate your rice fish technique.

That weekend , you found yourself standing outside a quiet café near the park. The sun was warm on your shoulders, and your coat hung open as the breeze tugged at the hem of your shirt. It had been a long time since you'd waited for someone like this — not for a meeting, not for a kid’s event.

Just… a coffee.

With him. When Satoru arrived, he didn’t greet you with a joke. He just smiled. Quiet. Warm.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled back. “Hi.”

He held the door for you, and the two of you slid into a booth. The smell of espresso and baked sugar filled the space between you.

He looked different without the performative chaos. Less shiny. More real.

You ordered lattes, and neither of you spoke until the cups hit the table.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say yes,” he admitted, stirring sugar into his drink.

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

He smiled. “Megumi’s been sleeping easier since this whole thing started. He hasn’t said it, but… he’s happier.”

Your heart tugged. “Nobara too. She feels seen. Even when she’s pretending she doesn’t care.”

A pause settled between you.

Then he asked, quietly, “Are you and… Nobara’s father still close?”

You blinked. “He’s still in Nobara’s life. Always will be. But no, not… not like that.”

Satoru’s jaw flexed for a moment. Then he nodded.

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not.”

Another pause.

Then you added softly, “He’s a good man. Just not the right one.”

Satoru looked at you — really looked at you.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “sometimes the right one just shows up late.”

Your eyes met. And for a moment, the air felt too warm, too close, like the café had shrunk around the booth and the silence between your cups had turned into something fragile and hopeful.

Outside, the wind had picked up. Petals drifted from the trees like confetti. Satoru walked you to the corner, hands in his coat pocket, and you hugged your arms close.

He glanced over at you. “You cold?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

But he stepped closer anyway. Just enough that your sleeves brushed. And you let them. Just like that.

You never meant for it to be a date. You told yourself it wasn’t. That it was just coffee again. Just… hanging out. For the kids. For the bento truce. For your own sanity.

But as you stood in your hallway that morning, staring at your reflection — wearing your favorite blouse and those jeans that hugged you just enough — you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

You wanted this to be a date. You wanted him.

It was Satoru’s idea to meet at the local farmers market. You found him there just before noon, leaning against a vendor’s tent with two drinks in hand and sunglasses perched in his hair.

“Peach iced tea,” he said, offering you a cup. “I remembered you said you like sweet things.”

You blinked. “I didn’t realize you were listening that hard.”

“I’m always listening,” he said, then smiled like it cost him nothing. But his eyes didn’t move from yours for a beat too long. And your heart… did something traitorous.

You walked the stalls slowly, sipping tea and talking about everything except the kids.

He told you about the worst haircut he ever had — a childhood mullet, by the sound of it — and you told him how Nobara once shaved her eyebrows trying to “look fierce.”

You passed a flower stand. He paused.

“Pick one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me choose?”

“I want to see what you think is pretty.”

You turned to the rows of fresh-cut blooms and carefully plucked a tulip — not the flashiest, not the rarest. Just… soft. Quiet.

He watched you hold it for a second, then said, almost too softly, “Figures you’d pick the gentle one.”

Lunch was shared on a shaded bench by the pond. You split a wrap and laughed too loud over how many ducks tried to steal your crumbs. One brushed his foot and he shrieked like a child.

“Nope. That was it. I’m done with nature.”

You were still laughing when you stood, brushing off crumbs — and his hand hovered just slightly at your lower back. Not quite touching.

But close.

So close.

That week, everything returned to routine. Until it didn’t.

You were waiting near the school gate for Nobara, arms crossed against the spring breeze, when a car pulled up quietly beside you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was. The silver sedan. The clean lines. The precision of it all. Kento Nanami.

He stepped out in his usual beige coat, hair combed neatly back, his presence like a book you’d once memorized: predictable, comforting, closed.

“Hi,” he said, voice even.

“Hey,” you replied, offering a small smile. “She’s almost out.”

He nodded. Then — his eyes shifted. Past you. To the figure walking across the lot.

Satoru.

He was laughing, something bright and easy in his expression as he walked Megumi toward the gate. He didn’t notice you at first — not until his eyes lifted and caught yours.

Then… he saw Nanami. And Nanami saw him. A flicker of recognition crossed both their faces. Not quite surprise. Not quite hostility. Just something… cautious. You felt the temperature shift.

Satoru approached, nodding politely. “Hey.”

Nanami gave the smallest incline of his head. “You must be Satoru.”

“I am,” he said, easy smile still in place. “You must be Nanami.”

You could feel the tension threading between them — not loud, not aggressive. Just loaded.

“Thank you for walking her in the mornings,” Nanami said to you, eyes on Satoru. “Nobara tells me you’ve been packing some… interesting lunches.”

“Guilty,” Satoru said. “Though she started it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

They both chuckled — polite, tight.

Just then, the doors opened and kids spilled out in waves. Nobara ran straight for you, waving wildly. Megumi followed behind, quieter but smiling as he saw his dad.

You crouched to hug your daughter, the men standing like mirrored statues above you — each holding half your past and present.

“Weekend plans?” Satoru asked softly once Megumi had taken his hand.

You glanced toward Kento, then back to him.

“Just a little rest. And time with her dad.”

“I get it,” he said, offering a soft smile. “See you Monday?”

You nodded. “Yeah. See you.”

As he turned to walk away with Megumi, Nanami glanced at you, voice low.

“He seems… interesting.”

You glanced at him sideways. “He is.”

He was quiet a moment.

Then: “I’m glad you’re smiling again.”

Your breath caught.

“Me too.”

You didn’t plan to invite him over.

Not that week. Not that day. Not while your apartment was cluttered with stray socks and half-eaten fruit cups and you hadn’t even remembered to light a candle to cover the scent of Nobara’s slime experiments.

But it just… happened.

Satoru had been waiting outside the school, balancing Megumi’s backpack on one shoulder and Nobara’s art project in the other — because she’d “forgotten it in his car.” You knew she hadn’t. You’d seen the way she smiled when she said it.

And you’d seen the look Satoru gave you when he said, “I owe you dinner now, don’t I?”

You could’ve said no.

But the thing was — your daughter had already run over and asked if Megumi could come up to play. So you said yes.

He took off his shoes the second he stepped inside, toes wiggling against your mat like he owned the place. Megumi walked in behind him, wide-eyed, cradling a small bag of LEGOs like a peace offering.

The kids disappeared into the living room.

You found yourself standing beside Satoru in your kitchen, hands brushing once as you reached for the same drawer.

“Oh,” you murmured, pulling back. “Sorry.”

“No,” he said, “I liked that.”

Your breath hitched.

You laughed softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right,” he said, smiling as he leaned against the counter. “You do make this place feel warm.”

You tried not to stare. Not at the way his hair had flattened from the car. Not at the way he’d rolled his sleeves up, or how his voice had gentled around your daughter’s name.

You reached for a pan. “You cook?”

“I reheat.”

“Well then,” you said, trying to sound smug. “Prepare to be amazed.”

You made a simple meal — grilled salmon, soft rice, sautéed greens — but the way he watched you do it, you'd think you were crafting art.

Satoru offered to cut the vegetables, and you handed him the board with a quiet warning: “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

He pretended to be offended. “I have knife skills.”

You smirked. “Bet.”

The conversation stayed light. Easy. Familiar.

You’d never had this with Nanami — not because he was cold, but because everything with him had always felt structured, purposeful. Like it had to be done right the first time.

With Satoru, nothing was perfect. But it was fun.

You turned around to catch him stealing a cucumber slice.

“Caught you.”

“I’m sampling. It’s quality control.”

You reached to swat him, and instead — your fingers brushed his jaw. Just for a second. Just enough. And then the front door buzzed.

You knew who it was before you checked. Nanami stood there in his pressed shirt, tie slightly loosened, holding Nobara’s overnight bag.

“Thought I’d grab her early,” he said.

“Of course,” you answered, suddenly too aware of how quiet the apartment had become.

Satoru appeared behind you a beat later. He didn’t say anything at first, just raised a hand in polite greeting.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change.

You cleared your throat. “Come in for a second?”

He stepped in.

The warmth from dinner still lingered. Plates on the table. Soft music from the speaker. Laughter trickling in from the kids’ room.

Nanami scanned it all. His gaze landed last on you.

“Looks like you had company.”

You nodded. “Just dinner.”

A pause.

Nobara came bounding out, face lighting up when she saw her father. “Daddy!”

He crouched to hug her, strong arms catching her easily, pressing his lips into her hair.

“I missed you.”

She giggled. “You saw me two days ago.”

“It’s too long.”

She waved to Megumi. “Bye, Megu!”

Satoru nodded at her with a warm smile. “Don’t forget your slime.”

“I never do.”

Nanami helped her into her coat and grabbed her bag. But before stepping out, he turned to you.

“Could we talk? Just us?”

Satoru looked between you. Then nodded, quiet.

“I’ll keep the kids busy.”

You followed Nanami to the small bench just outside your building, where the streetlamps flickered and the chill evening air kissed your skin.

He didn’t speak right away.

Neither did you.

“I didn’t come here to interfere,” he said finally, voice low. “Or make you feel guilty.”

“I don’t.”

“I just…” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “You look happy.”

You nodded.

“I always wanted that for you,” he said. “Even if it wasn’t with me.”

Your throat tightened.

He looked at his hands. “I think I spent so long trying to build something stable, something lasting, that I forgot it also had to be… soft. And I’m sorry for the ways that made you feel invisible.”

“I was never invisible,” you said. “You just loved in a way I couldn’t hold.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s a beautiful way of putting it.”

A pause passed.

“I don’t regret loving you,” he said quietly. “I still do, in a way. I think a part of me always will.”

Your eyes stung.

“But I’m not here to win you back,” he said. “I’m just here to say… I hope he knows what he’s getting.”

You smiled. “He does.”

“Good,” Nanami said, rising to his feet. “Because I’ve never seen you glow like this.”

When you returned upstairs after kissing Nobara’s forehead before she left with her dad, the house smelled like soap and oranges. Megumi was asleep on the couch under one blanket, tangled in a mess of limbs and LEGO bricks.

And Satoru… he was sitting on the floor beside them, eyes closed, head resting back against the couch.

You didn’t wake him.

You just sat beside him quietly, your shoulder brushing his. And this time, you didn’t pull away.

You hadn’t meant to plan a family outing. Not when the word family still made your chest feel tight, uneven. You weren’t trying to blend anything. You were just trying to let the kids have fun.

But somehow, by the time you found yourself holding two park tickets and a paper map to the zoo, with Nobara’s hand in yours and Satoru carrying Megumi on his back, it felt… a little too perfect to call it just a playdate.

“Did we really just spend sixty dollars on entry and ten on a giraffe magnet?” you muttered, eyeing the stuffed animal in Nobara’s arms.

“She named it Sato,” Satoru whispered behind his palm. “Which I take as a sign she’s developing excellent taste.”

You elbowed him. He grinned.

The day stretched out like honey. You saw flamingos, lions, capybaras. Satoru bought all of you ice cream, then tried to juggle the cones and dropped his own on his shoe.

Megumi, with a rare smile, offered him a bite of his instead.

“I’m being generous,” the boy said, serious.

“You’re being perfect,” Satoru replied, ruffling his son’s hair.

You saw the way Satoru looked at Megumi — all pride and softness, a quiet ache in the space behind his smile. And the more you watched it, the more you started to wonder.

Where was her? The mother behind those eyes.

Later, the four of you found a shaded table near the panda exhibit, the air sticky with sunscreen and the squeals of nearby children.

The kids were coloring a shared map with highlighters when Nobara, suddenly, without looking up, said, “Dad, can Megumi come over again tomorrow?”

You stilled. So did Satoru. Megumi glanced up too. No one corrected her. Not at first. You looked over at Satoru slowly. He didn’t look away. Instead, he smiled — a small, breathless sort of smile.

“Maybe,” he said. “If his mom is okay with it.”

Your heart jumped.

But you just nodded, cheeks warming. “I think she’d say yes.”

The ride home was quieter. The kids knocked out in the back seat, your daughter’s cheek against Megumi’s head.

You stared out the window until Satoru finally asked, voice low, “You want to know about Megumi’s mom, don’t you?”

You looked at him carefully. “I do. But only if you want to tell me.”

He exhaled, the sound worn.

“She was someone I thought I’d love forever,” he said. “But I never got the chance to know if I actually would.”

You stayed silent.

“She left before Megumi turned two. Said she couldn’t do it — the parenting, the mess, the tether. She wanted freedom. I don’t hate her for that. But I don’t… admire her, either.”

You reached for his hand without thinking. And he let you hold it.

“She’s alive, somewhere,” he said. “But we don’t talk. Haven’t in years. I never wanted to tell Megumi anything that would make him feel unwanted.”

Your heart ached.

“Does he remember her?”

“Only in pieces. Mostly questions. I try to give him enough love for two people, but…” His voice trailed off. “Some days, it’s hard.”

You squeezed his hand.

“You’re doing a good job, Satoru.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Like he’d never seen someone say those words to him without expecting something back.

You whispered, “You’re a really good father.”

A pause. Then he leaned over. Pressed his forehead to yours.

And in the quiet, you could feel something shift between you — slow and warm and blooming. Not rushed. Not forced. Just real.

When he walked you upstairs that night, Nobara still sleeping in your arms, he didn't try to kiss you.

He didn’t ask for more.

He just looked at you, like he didn’t want to leave.

“Tell me next time you’re making bento,” he said.

You smiled. “I always do.”

And he turned and walked away — but not without one last glance over his shoulder, that quiet, boyish grin pulling at his lips.

And for the first time in years, as you closed the door behind you, the silence in your apartment didn’t feel lonely. It felt full.

You’d never seen where he lived. You’d seen the car, the way he dressed, the subtle signs of someone who lived more freely than most single parents. But his home?

It was a mystery. Until that Friday.

Part 2 >>>

[fawnme1]

THE SOFTEST THING — WILLNE

CHAPTER FOUR

previous part ,, next part

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

You weren’t supposed to be in the video.

You’d tagged along with Joe and Alfie mostly for moral support and free snacks. The Sidemen were shooting some kind of chaotic, unscripted Truth or Dare special, and they were short one person after someone bailed last-minute. That’s when Tobi looked at you and went, “Wait, get her in. She’s funny.”

Joe, of course, lit up like a christmas tree. “Yes! Oh my god, yes. She’s perfect.”

“She’s also not wearing makeup from camera,” you protested weakly, already knowing resistance was futile.

“That’s the raw aesthetic Gen Z wants,” Alfie said, throwing an arm ariound you dramatically. “It’s cinema, babe.”

And just like that, you were mic’d up and seated between Joe and Will on one of those weird gamer-style couches that didn’t actually support your back. The camera crew was setting up, lights glaring, and you were running through the very real possibility that this was going to end in public humiliation.

Joe leaned over, voice low. “Promise to pick truth when it gets to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been too mysterious lately,” he grinned.

“Joe.”

“I’m just saying. The people need to know.”

The shoot started.

Within minutes, it had descended into the usual nonsense: mini dares, oversharing, KSI doing a weird dance, and Vik being sneakily savage with his questions. You managed to stay off the radar for a while, mostly letting the chaos swirl around you.

Until it was your turn.

Tobi looked right at you. “Alright, you. Truth or dare?”

Joe didn’t even give you time to think. “Truth. She’s definitely picking truth.”

Will chuckled beside you, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Safe choice.”

You narrowed your eyes at them both. “Fine. Truth.”

Tobi grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “Okay then. Is it true that—” He glanced at his phone like he was double checking the wording. “—you haven’t dated anyone in five years?”

The room erupted.

“OH MY GOD,” Joe wheezed, clapping his hands together.

Alfie fell sideways onto the floor with a dramatic gasp. “EXPOSED!”

Your mouth dropped open, equal parts horror and disbelief. “Who told you that?”

Will turned to look at you, fully now, brows raised. “Wait — for real?”

You blinked. “That’s… wow, okay. I thought we were doing like ‘what’s your favourite cereal’ type truths.”

But Tobi just laughed. “We go deep here.”

You took a breath, trying to will the blood out of your cheeks. “Yeah. It’s true.”

The room went quiet for a beat, only broken by Joe and Alfie’s combined gremlin giggles.

“She’s emotionally celibate,” Alfie added, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

“Full-on romantic nun,” Joe agreed, raising his bottle of water in a toast. “Five years strong.”

Will was still looking at you.

Not laughing. Just… surprised. Curious.

“Didn’t expect that,” he said under his breath, not loud enough for the camera to catch.

You shot him a sideways glance. “Why, because I seem so emotionally available?”

He smirked. “No, just… you sing like someone who’s been through it.”

Joe heard that and howled.

“Oh my god, this is killing me,” he wheezed. “The two of you sound like the start of an angsty music video.”

“You are the angsty music video,” Alfie added, still on the floor. “She’s giving heartbreak, and Will’s giving ‘guy who doesn’t realise he’s the problem’.”

Everyone laughed — including you — but you could feel Will still watching you out of the corner of his eye.

And later, when the cameras were off and the lights came down, he bumped your shoulder lightly and said, “Five years, huh?”

You nodded, trying to keep it breezy. “Life got busy.”

“Or maybe the right person never showed up.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t need to.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone was starting to look at you like they might just want to be the exception.

The Sidemen vide blew up fast.

You woke up to hundreds of tags. Not dozens. Hundreds.

The comments had gone feral. TikToks were circulating, edits were made, and the clip where you admitted — on camera, no less — that you hadn’t dated in five whole years had gone ultra-viral.

“5 YEARS?? that’s not a dry spell, that’s a biblical drought”

“she’s so real for this. healing era icon.”

“joe and alfie’s reaction sent me to the moon”

“why does will look like he just found out she’s a disney princess with a tragic backstory??”

Someone even made a fan cam of your face, backlit in that Sidemen studio glow, overlayed with Lana Del Rey and the words “she deserves the world and also a midly sarcastic boyfriend.”

You laughed. You cringed. You considered moving to a remote forest.

But no one was letting it go — especially not Joe and Alfie.

And then came the ChrisMD pub crawl.

You hadn’t intended to be in that video either. But one “come on, it’ll be jokes” from Alfie turned into a full night of chaotic filming, multiple pubs, far too many pints, and an on-camera game of “Pub Truths” that immediately got out of hand.

You were two pints deep when Chris pointed a camera in your face with that smile that meant you should be worried.

“Right then,” he grinned. “Everyone wants to know — how long exactly has it been since your last date?”

Groans and cheers exploded around the table.

Joe physically clapped. “YESSSSS. Get in there!”

“Run it back!” Alfie yelled. “Five years and two months now, don’t lie!”

Will, sitting across from you with a half finished cider, looked up — smirking, but clearly listening.

You blinked. “Is this my punishment for having a career?”

Chris leaned closer. “So? Confirm the timeline. The people need to know.”

You sighed. Loudly. “Fine. Five years, three months, and…” You paused, checked your phone. “Seventeen days. Happy?”

The table screamed.

“No way you’re tracking it that precisely,” Chris said, wide eyed.

“She’s counting like it’s a prison sentence,” Joe said through tears.

“She’s like those girlboss wolves who wait for one mate their whole life,” Alfie added.

Will nearly choked on his drink.

You covered your face. “I hate you all.”

“You love us,” Alfie grinned. “And also you’re lying. You’ve definitely flirted.”

“I’ve flirted for sport. That’s not dating.”

“Iconic behaviour,” Joe muttered. “Tactical flirtation. Maximum power, no commitment.”

Chris was still cackling. “No but seriously, no dates? None?”

“Not one where I actually liked the guy back,” you said honestly.

That shut everyone up for a beat.

And then Will said — so casually it could’ve passed unnoticed: “Well, you’ve got high standards. That’s not a bad thing.”

Joe caught it. Alfie caught it. You definitely caught it.

The camera probably did, too.

And from the way Will didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed about saying it, you knew he meant it.

The next day, your mentions were in meltdown again.

This time, it wasn’t just “5 year dry spell girl.”

Now it was:

“she’s the heartbreak popstar and he’s the sarcastic youtuber… they share ONE drink on a pub crawl and i’m writing vows”

“this is the slowest of burns and i’m obsessed.”

“her saying ‘that’s not dating’ while will looks at her like THAT? yeah i screamed”

Your group chat was on fire.

Joe: ur a menace and ur fans want you to marry will

Alfie: i say u milk it. fake date him for views

Joe: or real date him for love

Alfie: LAME

Joe: grow up

And then —

You got a DM.

WillNE: just watched the chris video

you’re dangerously good at not getting flustered

next time i’m raising the stakes

(aka: i’m calling the next pub. don’t ghost me.)

You stared at the message for a good ten seconds, heart doing a thing it hadn’t done in — well, five years and seventeen days.

And maybe the streak wasn’t technically broken.

But something had definitely cracked.

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: Digital fanart of Kaldena, Temenos Mistral, and Ochette. All images are fully described under the cut. End image description.]

traditional kal hand tattooing, face painting, and clothing - at the request and under the artistic direction of @maverickflare ^_^

[Image description: Three digital drawings. The first is of Kaldena showing off the details of her red face paint and hand tattoos. The rising sun on her forehead is a masculine warrior/keeper of the Flame symbol. The line down her chin is a feminine teacher symbol. The dyed tips of her fingers are a feminine coming of age/fertility symbol. The filled-in circles on her palms represent the new moon and the darkness of Vide. The bracelet patterns on her wrists are a volcanic symbol. The concentric circles with lines radiating out on the backs of her hands represent the full moon and the light of the Eight. Finally, the three rings on the backs of her fingers are a ward against injury and misfortune.

In the second drawing, Temenos is sitting in a chair while Ochette holds his hair back and Kaldena dips her finger into a small bowl of red paint. Temenos says with a nervous smile, "Just so you are aware, I don't want that paint anywhere near my mouth." Kaldena responds flatly, "Boorish nag. Hold still." As Kaldena uses her finger to paint Temenos's face, Ochette asks with a smile, "How am I going to do his hair?" Kaldena replies, "We will just tie it back. It's not long enough to do much else with." Their red text indicates that they are speaking in Kal. Temenos remarks, "Hmm. I know a few of those words." Kaldena says, "Yes, keep practicing and you might even speak like a baby soon. Hold still." She goes through four more bowls containing black, white, yellow, and teal paints. With the teal paint on her pinky, she says with a coaxing smile, "Last chance, Temenos." He sighs, "Alright, alright," and she paints his lower lip teal. A full-color illustration shows Ochette observing Temenos's face with an excited grin as she wags her tail and exclaims, "WOW, Dena! You're so good at this! He looks completely different!" Temenos's paint includes red triangles on his forehead and either sides of his jaw, a radiant crescent moon on his forehead, white dots above his eyebrows, red circles on his cheeks, a teal line across his nose, smoky black lines around his eyes, a yellow circle on his chin, and multicolored lines and black dots down his neck, among other details. He blushes slightly and laughs, "Ha! Do I really?" Kaldena says, "Put that hand down. Are you trying to ruin my work already? ...Now all you need is the right garb, and then you'll finally look like a proper priest..."

In the last drawing, Temenos wears Kal priestly garments. His blue dress opens in the front and is patterned with darker blue crescent moons and a gold hem. The teal scarf around his arms has star-shaped beadwork, and the red scarf around his waist has orange volcanic patterns. He wears a white underdress, dark blue stockings, and brown sandals. He is heavily adorned in beadwork earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, including a pendant with a symbol of the Sacred Flame. He wears gold rings on his fingers and a gold diadem crowned with a large winged sun. He holds a red earthenware bowl decorated with blue flames. Next to him, Kaldena wears a purple matchcoat with gold stripes and white beadwork near the hem and sleeves over a pink dress shirt patterned with red circles and rhombuses. She also wears a short black skirt, white buckskin leg wraps, and brown moccasins with minimal beadwork patterns. Her hair is tied back into a bun with a red ribbon, and she wears silver circular earrings and a crescent-shaped gorget. Finally, Kaldena stands on her tip-toes in a dancer's outfit. She plays a silver sistrum decorated with two humanoid figures holding a winged serpent on the top, and a red string with white and yellow beads at the bottom. Her hair is pulled into two braids and wrapped in red ribbons. Her white dress is dagged at the hem and sleeves, and has red embroidery at the collar. She wears a red embroidered sash at her waist and a red checkered apron with heavy beadwork, depicting blue triangles pointing down to two blooming plants which sprout out of a yellow hill. Her moccasins are yellow with beaded cuffs, and her beaded earrings match. Her face is entirely painted, with white around the center and yellow around the forehead and jaw. The yellow sections are patterned with rows of red and black dots, and the teal swirls on her cheeks connect to two lines that run down her chin. End image description.]

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas week 4 - Santa, Menorah, Surprise, Toys

rating: T | words: 2,916

uhh the worms hit in a big way so... 🧍‍♀️it's still late but here's the next part only 5 hours later lmao

<- back to previous part | next part ->

The week before Christmas, Steve and Robin get a surprise visitor at Family Video.

“Welcome to Family Vide– Oh! Hey Mr. Munson, what can I help you with?”

“Mornin’ Steve, how are ya?”

“I’m great,” he says, doing his best to school his features away from shock, “You?”

“Tired, should be asleep right now,” Steve opens his mouth to agree, hence his surprise, but Wayne continues on, “But, I have a proposition for you and your… Robin is it?”

“It’s Robin.”

“Who’s Robin?” Robin says, coming back from the bathroom.

“Ah, there y’are. How would the two of ya’s like to come to the 440’s Holiday Potluck this Friday?”

“Wow, really? That’s– would you like us to bring anything?”

Wayne waves him off.. No, literally.. He waves his hand dramatically in front of his face and suddenly, Steve knows exactly who Eddie got his theatrics from. “Nonsense, you’d be my guests and there will be plenty’a food to go around, whattya say?”

“Of course!” Robin says, “We’d be happy to!”

Steve nods in agreement and Wayne’s eyes and mustache crinkle up at the corners, “Great, meet Claudia and I at the Union Hall at 7 then, yeah?” he says, making for the door.

“Y– You and Claudia? Ms. Henderson, Claudia?”

Wayne stops at the door, smiling wider, prouder, “That’s the one!” then is out the door with a final jingle.

—

“Do you think we’re overdressed?” Robin asks as Steve fishes out the carefully stacked trays of brownies from his back seat.

“Hm? Nah, I don’t think so, it’s just a sweater and slacks, right?” he says, holding the trays away from him to look down at his green reindeer sweater and khakis, then up at Robin’s matching khakis and navy blue snowflake sweater.

“I dunno Stevie… I’m seeing lots of denim..”

He looks up at the clusters of people heading into the hall and… she’s right, they’re all in jeans. Jeans, jean jackets, hell, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if they had denim button-ups underneath.

He looks back at Robin. “I think we might be overdressed.”

They head inside, Robin holding the door for Steve, then follow the flow of people through the entrance.

A friendly woman directs Steve to set his trays with the other desserts at a far line of tables, and he’s just taking off the lid for the second when he hears a boisterous “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

The stage.

The hall was relatively open, wood paneled and warm, and it had a short stage on the far side of the room.

And he hadn’t even noticed.

Nor had he noticed the Santa and the line of kids queued upon it.

…There’s no way.

Steve makes his way back to Robin’s side, where she’s standing awkwardly in the space between food tables and round table-clothed ones with chairs, fiddling with a loose thread on her sweater.

She looks up briefly when he comes up to her side, then goes back to her sweater.

And Steve can’t stop staring at the Santa.

At this point he’s just waiting to see if he notices, to see if Eddie notices.

Because that is Eddie, there’s no doubt in his mind about it. 

The obviously padded out suit, the chunky combat boots, the now sweaty, stingy pieces of dark bangs peeking out from under his Santa hat..

That’s Eddie. 

Eddie is the local Union’s Holiday Party Santa Claus.

All the kids that are waiting their turn look so excited, and even the ones that get more nervous as they get closer to their turn are almost bouncing off the walls ecstatic after hopping from Eddie’s lap.

Steve is so head over heels for this man it’s not even funny.

It’s almost as if all this thinking about him Steve is doing alerts Eddie to the additional attention on him; his eyes find Steve’s between one kid bounding off excitedly to their parents and the next timidly stepping up for their turn.

Horrified surprise flits over his eyes as he realizes who caught him out.

Steve feels his face stretch into a horribly gleeful smile, and Eddie’s face goes nearly as white as his beard.

“Rob, look.” he says, pointing over to Eddie Claus

“What? What’s wro— oh. My. God.”

“Wayne did this on purpose.” Steve can’t stop smiling, Robin can’t seem to either.

“Oh definitely. Him and Ms. H. are Class A conspirators”

“Which, by the way, those two? Who would’ve thought, huh?” Steve says, finally giving Eddie a moment of peace by turning away.

“Right?! They’re adorable together, did you see him help her out of the truck earlier?”

“No, I must’ve been inside alre—”

“Steve, how’re you, son?”

Steve turns to face the voice, “Oh, hey Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson,” he says, smiling at them and shaking Wayne’s hand.

“None of that boy, I’m Wayne to you, just Wayne.” he says, giving Steve’s hand a firm shake then moving to shake Robin’s.

“Thanks for the invite Just Wayne, we’re having a great time.” she says, not even bothering to hide her laughter.

Wayne smiles proudly at her, “Thought you two’d be tickled by that.”

“Has Dustin found out yet?” Steve asks

“Dusty hasn’t arrived yet, the Sinclairs are dropping him off on their way out of town.” Ms. Henderson says, similarly doing a terrible job of hiding the mischievous smirk on her face, “He’s going to go into hysterics.”

The four of them chat for a bit, but after a while, Wayne is pulled away by a friend of his.

“You three go sit, grab some grub, I’ll find you, hm?” He presses a kiss to Claudia’s temple, and merges seamlessly with a nearby boisterous group of similarly denim-clad, shiny headed, mustachioed men.

“Would never have thought of Mr. Munson as a mingler.” Robin states with a hint of laughter still in her voice as they sit at a table near to the stage.

Claudia sighs, “He’s a favorite around here, that’s for sure. Oh you shoulda heard the union guys back in the spring, going on and on about ‘There ain’t no way!’, and ‘Not Wayne’s boy, nosiree.’.”

Steve’s heart swells at the thought of all these people being behind Eddie, sticking by him and Wayne through hell.. And from the look on Robin’s face, she’s thinking the same.

-

Dustin whirlwinds in twenty or so minutes later, just in time to jump in line with Steve at the food tables.

“There you are,” he says, sounding exasperated.

“Wh– what do you mean ‘There I am.’? I’ve been here the whole time!” Steve says, affronted.

“And yet no offer of a ride, typical.” he says, shaking his head and heaping a spoonful of green bean casserole onto his plate.

“What th– you’re jus– I can’t—” Steve splutters, then huffs, scooping green beans onto his own plate. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I know.”

They fill up their plates, all of it looking amazing, and head back to the table they’ve commandeered.

Dustin sits across the table from Wayne and Claudia, the former twisted around in his seat to talk to someone at the next table over, and the latter chatting with Robin about her plans for school.

They both turn back when Steve and Dustin sit, “There you are Dusty, have fun at Lucas’s?”

“Yeah, we were trading comics and—” he cuts himself off, looking between his mom and Wayne. 

“What’s wrong, dude?” Steve asks around a mouthful of potatoes

Dustin just keeps flicking his gaze between the two, “Are you shitting me?”

“Dusty!” Claudia complains, ready to chide him for his language, but Dustin keeps going.

“That’s why we’re here? You two are dating, aren’t you?”

Everyone at the table freezes, but a second later, he corrects himself, “Not that– it’s cool or whatever.. Right?” he looks at Steve, then shakes himself, like he’s shaking off the thought, “Right, of course it is I’m just…” He looks up at the two, “I’m just happy for you, mom.”

“Oh, Dusty!” Claudia coos, standing and hurrying around the table to hug her son.

“Moooomm, gross! I’m not a baby anymore.” he complains as she smooshes a kiss to his cheek.

The others laugh, and Wayne asks, “So you don’t want to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” gesturing to the stage with his fork.

“Ew, what, of course n— IS THAT EDDIE?!”

-

Another visit to the food tables later, the man of the hour finally joins them, plate piled high with …actually, Steve’s not quite sure what each part of it is.. It just looks like mush. Like a literal little bit of each of the things left on the food table.

He’s flushed and pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his bangs practically glued to his forehead.

“Lookin’ good, Munson.” Robin chides, and Steve can’t help but snicker.

“Shut your yaps, it isn’t my fault I don’t look like my usual handsome self.” he says around a mouthful of mush.

“Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?”

“Oh ha ha ha–”

“I think you look great, Ed.” Steve says, smiling softly at him.

He smiles back, “Thanks Stevie, I—” then frowns, “Shut up, no I don’t.”

“You calling me a liar now? Low blow, Munson.”

Eddie casts him a withering look, then takes another bite of mush.

“Get any good wishes?”

Eddie swallows, Steve can’t help but track the movement, “Can’t tell ya, Bobin, ‘else it won’t come true.”

“You’re not even actually Santa, you know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“Been Santa every year for the past seven years, and I’ve never told any wishes,” he says, shaking his head, “And haven’t had any complaints yet.”

Robin opens her mouth to respond, but Steve cuts ahead, “I think it’s sweet.”

Eddie’s expression shifts from  to surprised instantly, “You do?”

“Of course I do, man, my hypothetical kids would be lucky to have you as Santa.” Steve tries to telepathically push his meaning into Eddie’s brain, ‘Our kids, that’s how you’d be their Santa’. Ugh, if anyone in the room was a mind reader, he sincerely apologizes for the rush of sappy thoughts.

But, to his dismay, Eddie’s face falls just the slightest bit, and Steve knows he took it the wrong way.

“Thanks, Harrington.” he says, turning his face down towards his plate.

Steve almost feels Robin’s ‘Oh no… Harrington.’ trickle into his brain

He winces internally, but presses on, asking Eddie, “Come over to my place later?”

Eddie looks up again, cheeks full of food and his cheeks go a bit pinker. He swallows, “Yeah, sure, if you want me to?”

“Yeah me and Rob’ll just be hanging out.” Steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance, “And I’m sure you want to give the lovebirds some privacy.” He tilts his head toward Wayne and Claudia.

Eddie just groans and drops his forehead to the table, laughing weakly. “Don’t remind me.”

- -

Steve drops Robin at home and she gives him a pat on the back and a “Go get ‘im, loverboy.” as she goes.

He gets home about 30 minutes before Eddie rings the bell.

Steve’s already in his most two-sizes-too-small shirt and slouchiest sweats  when he answers the door, and it looks like Eddie’s changed too, and showered from the look of his hair.

“Hey man, c’mon in.”

“Thanks dude, where’s Robin?”

Steve shrugs as he closes the door, “She wasn’t feeling good, I think she ate too much so I dropped her off at home.”

Eddie’s face somehow goes paler and pinker at the same time, “Oh yeah, shoot,” he laughs nervously, then seems to shake himself internally because his next words are full of that patented Munson confidence, “Just you and me then, big boy?”

He gives Steve a glance over, and his flirty smirk wavers with a new rush of color to his cheeks.

“Yep, just us.. Beer?”

“Sure, if you got it.” he calls over his shoulder as he wanders into the living room.

Steve goes for the drinks, then asks “What’s in the bag?” as he heads back to the other room. 

“Just my stuff,” he shrugs, “PJs and all that.”

Eddie’s sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, and Steve’s really glad he had time to light it when he got home. The glow it gives him is something else.

“Wanna help me wrap?” Steve asks as he sits down beside Eddie, passing him one of the beers.

He nods, “S’long as I can keep sitting here, the fire feels great.”

Steve chuckles, “Sure, Ed.”

He pushes up to his hands and knees and crawls the few feet away to the tree and starts sliding boxes out from underneath it, grabbing the bag of wrapping paper tubes as he shuffles back past them.

One look at Eddie’s face has him fist pumping internally. Flustered and Flushed, nailed it.

“S-so what’s in the boxes, Stevie?”

Steve shrugs, pulling one of the boxes towards him, “Some toys for that game you and the shitheads are always going on about,” He nudges Eddie’s arm playfully as he starts rolling out some paper. “I figure each of them get a box of things, and they can trade them between themselves after they open them.”

Eddie nods, pulling a box towards him and opening it up, “Or I can help you divide them out?”

“Oh thank god, thought you wouldn’t even ask.”

Eddie cackles and shoves at him, “You just want me to do your work for you! Some big brother you are, huh?”

Steve shoves him back, “You’re the literal Santa among us, asshole.” he laughs.

They sort through the packs of dice and mini figures Steve had picked up in Chicago last time he went to meet up with his parents, piling them into boxes labeled for each of the hellions.

“Mike likes to add Orcs to his games, we’ll give that one to him, Lucas has been talking about playing a wizard character so let’s give him that one…” Steve listened to each of Eddie’s explanations as they went, and soon, each of the boys had their boxes wrapped and labeled.

“What about Max and El?”

 “I’ve got them covered, no problem.” Steve waves him off, “But you can open yours now if you want?”

Eddie’s face lights up then scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, why? It’s only the 19th..”

Steve shrugs, pushing off the floor to the tree again, “I figured you already had plans with Wayne so..” he grabs the little box and plops back down next to Eddie, holding it out to him. “Here.”

After one more skeptical look, Eddie snatches up the box and tears into it in record time.

He lifts the lid and stops. Looks up at Steve. Down into the box. Back up. “Steve..”

“I had them made while I was in Chicago. They’re the Hellfire colors, right? Red, yellow, and black?” Eddie nods. “Well good, I’m glad I remembered right. The clear was just ‘cause I thought it would be fun.” He grins.

Eddie looks at him for a moment longer, then, almost angrily, puts the lid back onto the custom dice set, smacks it down onto the nearby coffee table, and fights to open his bag.

“Ed, what are you–”

“Here.” he pants, holding out a palm-sized box.

“You just.. had this with you?” Steve asks, taking it.

“I was going to leave it here before I left for the night,”

Steve tears open the newspaper and similarly lifts the lid off his box.

His heart leaps into his throat at the glittering gift inside.

It’s an aluminum tree. A mini silver one, just like Eddie and Wayne’s. 

Steve looks up at him, and Eddie starts rambling, almost panicked.

“It’s an ornament. I saw it and I thought about how you said you always wanted an aluminum tree.. Sorry it’s not a real one, but I don’t have that kind of cash, y’know?” he laughs, then his face falls again, more so than it had been originally, “Oh wait, shit, should I have gotten you that Hanukkah thing? A Mendoza?

“A Menorah?”

“Aw fuck, you need a menorah..”

“Eddie,” Steve looks pointedly from him to the tree and back. It doesn’t look like Eddie’s gaze moved at all. “You literally came over to my house last week to help decorate my Christmas Tree.”

He looks over at the tree. “...Oh yeah…”

“But it’s sweet of you to be concerned…?”

“Thanks,” he laughs, “So, do you like it?”

Steve dives forward to pull Eddie into a hug, it only takes a moment for Eddie to return it. “I love it, thank you Eddie.”

He relaxes just a bit more into the hug, “You’re welcome, Stevie.”

They stay in the embrace for a couple seconds before pulling away, neither of them going very far.

Steve glances down to Eddie’s mouth, then back up to his eyes, both only inches away from his.

“Eddie, I—” He swears they both start leaning forward again when–

Eddie’s watch starts beeping rapidly, some alarm going off that sends him flying backward and onto his feet 

Steve blinks “Ed?”

“Oh shit, midnight already? You know what that means, Stevie, time to hit the hay!” Eddie rambles, gathering up his gift box and backpack, “It’s cool if I stay, right? I packed some clothes for tomorrow too so I’m just gonna..” 

He gestures over his shoulder, and after a breath, turns on his heel and heads for the stairs.

“...What just happened?”

dividers from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!

[soelvfisk]

Kan købe en grund i en provisby i jylland til 25k som koster 8kr om måneden i ydelser. OTTE KRONER. Der er ikke engang byggepligt. Jeg kunne bare slå et telt op eller plante en lille skov og bygge et træhus eller have en vogn stående. Wow en derailet lifeline jeg ville begive mig ud af hvis jeg valgte at gøre det. Altså det føler jeg er et 90graders højresving uden vigepligt. Bare neeeuuun. Som det der motervejs-meme… med afkørslen. Men kan ikke bo i et telt altså. Og kan ikke rydde en grund og støbe fundament midt mens jeg er depresso??? Men sjovt. Gad vide hvad man ellers kan? Så kan jeg ligge her og overveje hvor underligt mit liv ku være. Hvis jeg tog en weird ass beslutning.

[lauren-no-why]

For Rigo from the art meme - 👜 - Personal items carried by or associated with your OC, in an arrangement, labelled

Okay I've just gone with what might immediately be in his pockets because I'm not drawing a whole dang drum kit I already did that (or other misc associated things)

Cigarettes (Pall Mall, this is canon! wow)

Condoms lol

Kinda shitty beat up cheap leather wallet

Lighter

Loose change

"Brass" knuckles though obviously these are not brass but you know

A baggie of coke?? some kind of hard drugs generally whether this or vide noir or idk what

[urween]

Spend an afternoon with Hedwig, GN reader

Split headcanon

notes : j'avais vraiment envie d'écrire quelque chose de doux sur Hedwig parce qu'il est tellement touchant <3

no spoiler

⚠︎ warning : aucun

2 512 mots

- Description à la deuxième personne

Vous vous connaissez depuis plusieurs années déjà, ou plutôt tu connais certains alters depuis plusieurs années. Dennis, Hedwig, Barry et Patricia ont été les premiers à se présenter à toi. Jade, Orwell, Mary et Kevin se sont ensuite exposés, mais il reste encore beaucoup d’alters méconnus. Barry a expliqué les principaux traits de caractères de ces inconnus pour que tu puisses ainsi te les représenter et même parfois les reconnaître lorsqu’ils prennent la lumière. Tu as exprimé beaucoup de reconnaissance pour ça, car il arrive quelquefois que tu te retrouves face à une personne que tu ne connais absolument pas. Barry a aussi expliqué que ces alters ne prennent que très rarement la lumière et que par conséquent ils sont toujours un peu perdus ou inquiets lorsque ça arrive. Heureusement qu’Hedwig est là pour reprendre le front et ainsi les soulager.

Quoiqu’il en soit, on peut dire que tu t’entends assez bien avec tous les principaux alters. Certains ont des caractères bien spéciaux mais tu apprécies ce détail, ça leur donne un charme.

Patricia fait partie de ces alters. Les femmes sont peu nombreuses dans leur système comparées aux hommes, mais elles ont pour la plupart un fort caractère. Et dans ce lot, Patricia est certainement la plus complexe. Tu as mis beaucoup de temps à t’habituer à sa présence. Elle dégage quelque chose, une aura pesante. Elle a cette façon de parler sereine et douce qui au début t’effrayait énormément. Lorsqu’elle a pour la première fois proposé une discussion autour d'un thé, elle s'est mise à raconter à quel point les kilos de viandes qu’un lion peut manger sont impressionnants, et alors tu as imaginé beaucoup de scénarios où tu finissais en morceaux dans une cage à félins. Mais à présent les choses se sont calmées pour toi, enfin la plupart du temps. Patricia t’a bien fait comprendre qu’elle n’avait aucune mauvaise intention envers toi, mais tu ne peux pas empêcher les frissons dans ta nuque lorsqu’elle passe un peu trop près de toi. Mais au fond de toi, tu sais très bien que ces réactions ne sont plus vraiment dues à la peur.

✉ nouveau message de : Avengers

Ton attention lâche le plat de pâtes encore tout chaud que tu viens de commencer pour plutôt attraper ton téléphone portable. Un sourire illumine ton visage en voyant le destinateur.

✉Avengers

- cc !!

- tu peut venir à la maison ????? stp stp stp

Lorsque, plusieurs années en arrière, Dennis t'a donné leur numéro de téléphone, tu as désepéré devant l’option “nom du contact”. Tu ne pouvais pas mettre le prénom d’un des alters puisque c’était leur numéro à tous, et ils n'avaient pas de nom global pour leur système. Finalement tu as eu un souvenir de l’obsession pour les Marvels qu’avait développé Hedwig lorsque tu lui as parlé d’Iron Man, puis de la façon avec laquelle Dennis et Patricia ont des paillettes dans les yeux lorsque tu leur dis qu’ils sont extraordinaires. Par conséquent tu as décidé de les surnommer les Avengers, parce qu’ils ont tous des supers pouvoirs à leurs manières.

✉Vous

- coucou Hedwig

- oui je peux venir si tu veux ! D’ici environ trente minutes je peux être là, n’oublies pas de m’ouvrir le portail ;)

✉Avengers

- trop cool !!!

- mademoisele patricia a achetté un truc pour moi !

Tout en finissant rapidement ton plat, tu te diriges vers la salle de bain afin de préparer tes affaires pour gagner du temps.

✉Vous

- vraiment ? Génial et qu’est ce que c’est ?

✉Avengers

- plein de jouets animaux !

Un énième sourire étire tes lèvres au message alors que tu déposes l’assiette vide dans l’évier de la cuisine.

✉Vous

- wow plein ? On va pouvoir tous les essayer alors ;)

✉Avengers

- ouiiiii

- ah !!

- tu prend les bonbons bleus ???

✉Vous

- d’accord, mais je te préviens je te laisserais pas manger tout le paquet Hedwig

✉Avengers

- oui oui

- tfk ???????????

Tu poses ton téléphone contre le lit le temps d’attraper deux ou trois bagues, un collier et des vêtements propres.

✉Vous

- je t’ai déjà dis que c’était pas bon d’écrire comme ça, tu oublies les vrais mots à force

✉Avengers

- pardon !

- tu fais quoi ?????????????????

✉Vous

- je vais aller me laver puis je vais partir pour te rejoindre

- et toi ?

En tournant le robinet de la douche vers la gauche, tu commences à retirer tes chaussettes et ton pantalon. L’eau chaude a toujours pris beaucoup de temps pour arriver, mais comme ça tu peux continuer de répondre à Hedwig.

✉Avengers

- j’ai trouver des vieux dessins de barry

- ils sont beaux

- mais je dessines mieux !!

✉Vous

- fais attention à ne pas les abîmer, sinon il risque de bouder pour un long moment

- vous dessinez tous les deux de manière différente, et elles sont toutes les deux très belles ;)

Après avoir passé ta main sous l’eau pour voir la température de cette dernière, tu reprends une dernière fois ton portable.

✉Avengers

- t’s toujours trop cool !!!

- mademoiselle patricia elle a dis qu’elle aime bien ça et moi aussi j’aime bien ça

- et monsier dennis il penses que c’est rare d’être comme toi

- je suis d’accord moi persone à jamais été cool comme toi avant

✉Vous

- oh c’est adorable Hedwig, mais cette gentillesse vous la méritez tous

- en tout cas ça me touche beaucoup que les autres pensent ça de moi ! Tu pourras leur dire merci de ma part <3

- je suis désolé il faut que je te laisse si je veux pas arriver trop tard

✉Avengers

- derien !!!!

- d’accord à tt !

Une fois que tu as la certitude qu’il ne va pas envoyer d’autres messages, tu déposes ton téléphone sous ta pile de vêtements et finis de te déshabiller. Tu aurais très bien pu le faire tout en lui parlant mais il y a quelque chose de dérangeant dans le fait de se dévêtir en discutant avec Hedwig, ce n'est pas la même chose avec Dennis ou Mary par exemple. Il est déjà arrivé que vous parliez par messages pendant que tu te changeais ou même que vous soyez au téléphone lors de ton bain, et ce n’était vraiment pas la même chose.

Comme prévu, tu te dépêches de prendre ta douche et de t’habiller de nouveau. Tu enfiles les quelques bijoux que tu as pris précédemment et après avoir vérifié que tu n’as rien oublié, tu quittes ton chez toi. Heureusement pour toi, tu n’habites vraiment pas loin du zoo, et donc de leur appartement. Grâce aux nombreuses années à travailler là-bas, ils ont obtenu un logement de fonction dans la même rue que le parc animalier. Le seul problème est que cet appartement est assez petit, du moins trop petit pour avoir vingt-trois chambres, même s’ils n’ont pas réellement besoin d’autant de chambres. Mais par exemple Hedwig aime avoir sa propre pièce, où il peut afficher tous ses dessins et écouter de la musique, Dennis a besoin d’un endroit qui lui est totalement réservé, Barry aussi et encore d’autres. Ils n’ont pas tous besoin d’une chambre, mais les plus réguliers préfèrent en avoir une. Malheureusement cet appartement ne contient que deux chambres, une a alors été aménagée pour Patricia et l’autre pour Dennis. Hedwig, Barry, Orwell et d’autres ont les leurs ailleurs. Encore une fois, grâce aux années passées à travailler dans ce zoo, ils ont eu l’autorisation d'avoir une sorte de grand sous-sol rien que pour eux. Ce n’est clairement pas l’endroit le plus accueillant à première vue mais s’acheter une grande villa n’est absolument pas dans leurs moyens, et puis ils l’ont assez bien aménagé. Les murs restent rugueux et les lumières peu nombreuses, mais il y a malgré tout quelque chose d'apaisant là-bas. Leurs présences sont étalées dans chaque pièce, et c’est presque poétique de voir la façon dont ils doivent organiser la salle de bain ou la cuisine pour convenir aux envies de chaque alter.

Par automatisme, tu appuies sur l’interphone et fais défiler les noms jusqu’à trouver celui qui t’intéresse : Crumb. Sans avoir besoin de parler, la porte de l’immeuble s’ouvre devant toi et tu peux avancer vers l'ascenseur. Puisque cet immeuble est principalement occupé par des employés du zoo, ils ont fait installer un portail qui ne peut être ouvert qu’avec un badge ou un bouton chez les locataires, ça permet de limiter les squatteurs ou voleurs. Mais à cause de ça, tu dois attendre qu’Hedwig ou un autre alter t’ouvre ce qu’ils font toujours, sauf lorsqu’il y a un problème. Il est déjà arrivé qu’un alter “méconnu” prenne la lumière et dans ces cas-là il ne t’ouvrira pas le portail puisqu’il ne sait même pas ce qu’il fait ici. Pour cette raison, Barry a demandé un doublon de leur badge, prétendant que l’autre ne fonctionnait plus, et comme ça tu as toujours la possibilité de venir si jamais un problème survient.

Deux petits coups à la porte et Hedwig apparaît tout souriant devant toi.

« C’est trop bien que tu viennes ! Dit-il en te tirant par le bras vers le salon, les autres ont dit que je pouvais rester dans la lumière tout l’après-midi »

Sa façon de parler très atypique te réchauffe le cœur tandis que tu enlèves tes chaussures et les dépose avec soin sur un petit chiffon placé dans un coin de la pièce. Dennis a beau ne pas être dans la lumière, tu préfères respecter ses tocs.

« T’as pris les bonbons ? Te demande le jeune garçon en se mettant assis par terre »

D’un hochement de tête tu lui souris et sors le précieux trésor de ton sac à dos. Aussitôt, Hedwig se jette dramatiquement dessus, se mettant presque ventre contre le sol pour attraper le paquet de bonbons.

« Wow génial je vois qui tu préfères ici, déclares-tu en riant »

Le garçon te lance un regard avant de prendre trois sucreries dans sa bouche et de se tourner sur le dos pour te voir à l’envers. Son rire résonne faiblement dans la pièce alors qu’une conversation commence entre vous deux.

Hedwig est sûrement l’alter avec lequel tu peux le plus rire, il dit constamment tout ce qu’il pense, même si ça n’a aucun rapport avec votre conversation actuelle. C’est quelque chose qui manque dans beaucoup de relations à tes yeux, pas avec eux, mais avec d’autres personnes. Lorsque tu rencontres quelqu’un il y a toujours un moment de gêne, une envie de vite s’enfuir et de rentrer chez toi. Ce n’est pas toujours le cas, mais ça l’est presque toujours. Tu as du mal à t’intégrer dans le mode de fonctionnement des autres, leur façon de parler sur le dos de leurs amis et leurs obsessions pour la politique, ce n’est pas toi ça. Tu aimes tourner les mauvais événements au comique et admirer ce papillon qui se pose dans l’herbe. Les personnes que tu rencontres ramènent toujours le négatif au centre de la conversation, c’est mentalement ��puisant de penser au réchauffement climatique et à la montée des impôts. Tu trouves ça dommage de revenir aux informations que les médias mettent déjà au centre de l’attention, pourquoi ne pas juste profiter du soleil dehors et du vent frais ? Bien sûr qu’il se passe des choses horribles dans le monde, mais y penser constamment ne les fera pas disparaître. Et Hedwig pense aussi comme ça, parce que c’est un enfant de neuf ans et qu’il a encore la chance de voir les beaux aspects de ce monde. Ça te fait vraiment du bien de passer du temps avec lui, il est ressourçant. Et même lorsqu’il évoque la mort, il le fait avec une façon tellement directe, sans pincette, que ça en devient rassurant. Ce qui le rend heureux c’est dessiner et danser, quoi de mieux pour oublier une mauvaise journée ?

« Elle est jolie ta bague, c’est un serpent ? »

Tu relèves la tête du livre que vous étiez en train de feuilleter pour regarder le jeune garçon et ses grands yeux bleus.

« Oh celle-ci ? Réponds-tu en levant ton index où se trouve le bijoux, je pense qu’on peut dire que c’est une sorte de serpent oui »

Tu l’as trouvée lors d’une brocante il y a plusieurs années de ça, la forme originale a tout de suite attiré ton œil et au faible prix auquel elle était tu n’as pas vraiment hésité pour l’acheter.

« Moi j’aime trop les tigres, ils sont super grands et forts, explique Hedwig en tournant les pages de son livre d’illustration, il s’arrête sur un dessin de tigre et passe son doigt dessus, regarde ils sont genre méga costauds »

Ton regard détaille l’illustration et ses traits très simples. Hedwig est le seul dans leur système qui fête son anniversaire, même s’il ne prend pas en âge. Alors l’année dernière, tu lui as offert une dizaine de livres, parce qu’il aime beaucoup ça. Tu as pris un peu de tout, de courts romans comme des livres à illustrations comme celui-ci. Un sourire prend place sur ton visage lorsque tu repenses à cette journée, Dennis faisait tout pour garder Hedwig loin de la lumière pendant que Jade et toi vous occupiez de faire le gâteau. Lorsque l’enfant parvenait à passer au front, il posait mille et une questions à la seconde alors que tu essayais désespérément d’éviter qu’il découvre la surprise. Finalement toi et les autres alters êtes parvenus à tout organiser sans qu’il ne découvre la vérité, et tu te souviens encore de ses yeux larmoyants lorsqu’il a vu le salon décoré ainsi que la pile de cadeaux qui l'attendait.

« Pourquoi tu viens ici ? Demande soudainement Hedwig, t’as pas des amis ? »

La question pouvait être mal interprétée, mais heureusement, tu arrives à comprendre le fond de sa pensée.

« J’aime venir ici tu sais, passer du temps avec toi et les autres »

« Oui mais t’es tout le temps disponible pour venir, enfin sauf quand tu travailles »

Tes doigts passent contre les pages colorées du livre alors que le garçon allongé à côté te regarde avec insistance.

« Honnêtement à part vous je n’ai pas grand monde, dis-tu en déviant tes yeux vers Hedwig, tu sais que je n’ai pas vraiment de famille et puis- je crois que j’ai un peu de mal à faire des rencontres, créer de nouvelles relations et tout ça, c’est compliqué pour moi »

Le jeune garçon fronce pendant quelques secondes ses sourcils avant de faire rouler son corps sur son dos et tourner de nouveau la tête pour te regarder.

« Moi non plus j’ai pas d’autres amis, avoue-t-il, les gens ils me trouvent bête je crois et ils se moquent de moi »

Un pincement au cœur, tu délaisses le livre en face de toi pour poser ta tête dans ta paume de main.

« Les gens ont du mal à comprendre les personnes comme nous, mais c’est pas grave parce que ça veut dire qu’on est spécial tu vois ? Eux ils peuvent pas être aussi géniaux que toi, c’est pour ça qu’ils sont jaloux »

« Alors c’est comme un super pouvoir ? »

De nouveau, ton cœur se réchauffe en voyant le sourire sur le visage du garçon.

« Exactement, le super pouvoir d’être extraordinaire »

° split masterlist

gif : @/hellozxxy

bannière : @/saradika-graphics

[bombshelllblonde]

every day i listen to lord huron

i think “oh wow. nothing will ever beat strange trails”

then i listen to long lost

“nothing will ever beat long lost”

then i listen to vide noir

“literally nothing will ever beat vide noir”

then i listen to lonesome dreams

“LITERALLY NOTHING WILL EVER BEAT LONESOME DREAMS”

so many thoughts and feelings

[bananasofthorns]

I actually got into Lord Huron recently after seeing you post about Nothing That I Need and wow the songs are all really good (Vide Noir, Secret Of Life and Who Laughs Last in particular are my favourite right now, though I've not yet fully listened to all their songs). So thanks for that!

!!! you're welcome! I'm so glad you like them, they're SO good. secret of life is also one of my favorite songs (it's very hard for me to choose though lol)

since you got into them from nothing I need--the music video for that song is out now if you haven't seen! it's very fun

[ditty-nightsong]

OOO BTW mutuals... what is a song that evokes "Wow This Music is Fucking Beautiful" in you. it doesn't have to be like "wow this is my favorite song!" but like. a song you're like "Waow. Music." about... tell me in the replies/rbs or hop into my askbox and if it's on spotify i'll listen to it either now or in the morning. my two submissions for this are love story by indila and tourner dans le vide which is. literally another song off that same album of hers. that frenchwoman is my fucking GOAT sorry.

[peachy-panic]

Luke and Sebastian Walk Into A Bar

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @hold-him-down !!! Here is this absolute chaos spin-off/crossover event.

NOTE: The characters of Luke Bennett and Leo Evans are entirely Holdy's. I am just borrowing them to play in our shared most-non-canon cinematic universe. Also, our world building details don't always align so adjustments have been made & rules don't count here.

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-adjacent, alcohol, talk of sexual content, heavy talks of slavery, asshole politicians

“Vodka soda.” Sebastian saddles up to the last seat at the bar, putting the most distance possible between himself and the next patron. 

The place is a dive; dimly lit and underpopulated, both of which are characteristics he actively sought out. It’s been a stressful, exhausting forty-eight hours in Washington D.C., and his social meter has all but depleted. This seems as good a place as any to blow of steam.

Under the bar, he pulls out his phone and types a message. 

Early flight tomorrow. Can’t wait to be home. Everything good?

As usual, the reply comes almost immediately. 

J: everything is good. we are watching a movie. ezra taught me how to sous vide chicken. 

Before Sebastian can type out his response, his phone buzzes again. 

J: I’m glad you’ll be home soon.

Something swells in his chest in the way he’s becoming accustomed to when Jaime decides to say the most casual thing that takes an emotional baseball bat to his heart. He shoots off another message, telling Jaime to sleep well and that he’ll see him in the morning.

Just as he is slipping his phone back into his pocket, a man settling in across the bar catches his eye. Not to be a cliche, but the tall-dark-handsome combination has always done it for Sebastian, and this guy is certainly no exception to the rule.

Their gazes meet just long enough for them to acknowledge each other and… Well, this wasn’t exactly the kind of stress relief he had in mind for tonight, but Sebastian isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Sebastian doesn't consider himself to be particularly good at flirting, even with the crutch of alcohol, but he has learned to navigate this sort of interaction with enough poise to get by. Usually. It was a learned skill, born out of necessity; if you’re going to restrict all intimate interaction in your life to anonymous strangers from a bar, you’ve got to get good at picking them up. 

Still, it’s been a while. Casual sex hasn’t been a big part of his life since Jaime came into the picture, and Sebastian is rusty.

The bartender places his drink in front of him, and Sebastian knocks it back in three long swigs. He slides off of his stool and saunters over to the empty seat beside the stranger.

“Anyone sitting here?” he asks. 

The man angles slightly toward him on his barstool. His dark brown eyes cast a look of approval over Sebastian and a small smile flicks up the corner of his mouth.

“Just you,” he says. 

Still got it, baby. 

“So,” Sebastian tries after a beat of not-entirely-comfortable silence. “You come here often?”

Okay, so maybe he is rusty after all. The handsome stranger raises an eyebrow.

“Zero points for originality.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian says. “I’m usually not this bad at flirting with strangers.”

This earns him a smile Sebastian chooses to read as amused. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Trying to? I’m not usually this sober when I attempt it.”

“That, I can help with. What are you drinking?”

“What’s that?” Sebastian asks, pointing to the man’s drink. 

“Whisky.”

He grimaces. “Nevermind. I’ll take a vodka soda.”

The man waves down the bartender with the air of someone who has been here before. When Sebastian has his drink in hand, he angles his stool toward the stranger. “I’m Sebastian,” he says.

Something hesitant flickers over his expression, just a fleeting moment, before he turns to him with an outstretched hand. “Luca.”

“Wow, a handshake, huh?” Sebastian can’t help but chuckle, even as he meets the firm grip with his own. 

A sheepish smile graces his expression.  “Sorry. Hard to get out of the professional headspace sometimes.”

“What do you do?”

Luca studies him for a moment, eyes darting over his face in search of… something. Finally, he says, “I’m in politics.”

“Ah.” Sebastian nods. “Should have guessed.”

“What about you?”

Sebastian’s fingers tense slightly around his glass. He briefly entertains the idea of concocting a fake backstory on the fly, but promptly remembers he’s a nervous liar and defaults to the simplest truth.

“I’m a doctor,” he says.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” Luca lies, then concedes to a guilty smile. “It’s just… you look young is all.”

“Thanks. Pretty soon I think they’re going to let me upgrade from safety scissors in the OR. If I’m really good.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, he’s quick with the jokes, too. What kind of medicine are you in?”

Well, this is one way to kill a mood fast. “Shop talk isn’t exactly what I was hoping for tonight,” he says. 

The glass pauses halfway to Luca’s lips. He cocks an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, are you looking for?”

Now they’re getting somewhere. 

“Depends. What are you offering?”

“Depends,” he echoes. “How much have you had to drink?” 

Sebastian smirks. “If you’re into playing daddy, you could have just said so,” he flirts, and the words surprise even him coming out of his mouth. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten how to do this, after all. 

It earns a surprised laugh. “How old do you think I am, exactly?”

“I’m not saying you’re my daddy,” Sebastian argues. “Theoretically, you could have a baby at home. Or maybe you had kids young. I don’t know your life.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Luca drawls. “And I don’t.”

“No kids,” Sebastian repeats. “What I’m hearing is… your place is empty?” 

This… does not get the reaction he was hoping for. Luca's smile drops a bit, eyes averting to the bar. 

“Oh,” Sebastian backtracks, sobering slightly. “I—Sorry, did I misread this? Oh god, please don’t tell me you have a wife.”

“I’m not married,” he assures him. “Definitely not to a woman. It’s just… my place. It’s not…”

Sebastian levels him with an appraising gaze. “I’m trying to decide if you're hiding a body or a rare Barbie collection." Luca flushes slightly and Sebastian decides to take pity on him. “Lucky for you, my hotel is three blocks away.”

Luca swallows down the rest of his drink and flags down the check. 

****

As with every hot, steamy rendezvous, their night takes a brief interlude at a 7/11. 

At this hour on a Friday night, the cast of characters includes one miserable cashier, a man reciting bible verses under his breath on a loop, and a gaggle of stumbling-drunk college kids. Sebastian’s eyes catch on one of the latter: a boy with blond curls and thin wrists protruding from his cuffed sleeves. For just a moment, at just the right angle before he turns, Sebastian sees a flash of Jaime, and the comparison sends a shockwave through his gut. 

In another life, that could be him; laughing with his friends on a Friday night, arm slung around a girl with blue streaks in her hair, being slightly too loud in a public space. 

It should be him. He should be here, living a normal, happy life, not holed up in Sam and Ezra’s guest room, waiting for the owner of his contract to come home. 

“Next in line.” The cashier’s voice pulls him back to the present, and Sebastian blinks, realizing he’s suddenly a little more sober and a lot less horny than he was a minute earlier. 

They lay their items on the counter—a three-pack of condoms, travel sized lube, and two bottles of water—and both pull out their wallets to pay. 

“On me,” Luca says, pushing forward a silver Amex.  

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Sebastian cheeks, trying to nudge them back toward the path of flirtation instead of depressive-crisis-in-a-convenience-store. 

It almost works, too, until they step outside and a voice calls out:

“Senator Luke Bennett.” 

Beside him, Luca stiffens. A man appears in front of them. He casts a look to the condoms and lube in the transparent bag, to Sebastian, then back at Luke. A smirk edges up his mouth and—wait. 

Sorry. Did he just say senator?

“Is your boy not doing it for you anymore?” The man’s breath smells of liquor and mint when he leans too close. “I hear WRU has a good return policy for unsatisfactory performance.”

Suddenly, the senator bombshell doesn’t feel all that important. Sebastian takes a step back, watching the image of the attractive stranger warp before his eyes. 

“You have a contract?” he asks. 

“Ooo,” the man chuckles. “Didn’t mean to stir the pot.”

“No, Richard, that doesn’t sound like you at all.” Senator Luca is all ice. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Richard backs off with both hands raised and a smile firmly in place. “My best to Leo.”

Luke watches him retreat with cold steel in his eyes. When he’s gone, he turns to Sebastian, halfway through an apology.  “Listen, I—”

“You have a fucking contracted worker at home?” Sebastian cuts in. “That’s why we couldn’t go back to your place?”

The look on his face is all the answer he needs.

“Jesus,” Sebastian scoffed. “I would have preferred a wife. God, I don’t know what I expected. I guess when-in-Washington, you’ve got to screen your hookups a little better. One, are you a conservative? Two, are you a fucking senator? Three, do you support the literal modern day slave trade?”

Luke’s jaw is cut in a way that might have been hot before Sebastian knew a few key details. He lifts his chin, keeping his voice infuriatingly even.

“I am in the public eye,” he says. “I have never been shy about my stance firmly against the system.”

“That’s one hell of a mixed signal you’re sending.”

And… okay. Sure. Sebastian is being a little bit hypocritical. But his situation… it’s different. Right? And highly unlikely that he just so happened to stumble upon a high ranking government official who just so happens to own a contract out of system resistance. 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Luke says. “But I also can’t fault you for being angry. I’m glad you are. It means you’re one of the good ones. That being said…” He throws a half-hearted wave with the hand not holding a bag of condoms and lube. “It was nice meeting you.”

He’s a few steps down the sidewalk when something possesses Sebastian to call after him. 

“What does that make you?” he says.

Luke stops.

“If I’m one of the good ones,” Sebastian repeats. “What does that make you?”

He turns back to Sebastian, and the honest look of sadness in his eyes catches him off guard.

“I try to be good for him,” he says. "I do my best."

And Sebastian knows he should let it go and walk away, but he hears himself respond anyway. “Yeah, you and every other prick who thinks they’re doing these people a favor. I know how that goes. I see it every day, what that kind of ‘goodness’ does to them.”

Luke’s brow furrows. Sebastian’s brain catches up to his mouth a few seconds too late.

Shit. 

“What do you mean you see it every day?”

“I…” Sebastian scrubs a hand over his mouth, “You know what? Never mind.” He steps around him, making a beeline for his hotel. This time, it’s Luke who calls after him. 

“Wait.”

Sebastian waits. Luke lowers his voice, closing the distance again. “Do you…?” His mouth shapes and reshapes a few attempts at words. “Are you in resistance work?”

Is it really a lie to leave out part of the truth? As long as the part you do say is still true? Probably best to go for avoidance altogether. 

“If I was,” Sebastian says, “I probably wouldn’t run and tell the first government representative I meet.”

Something like recognition flashes in Luke's eyes. “You’re in town for the supply trade. A group of medical resistance workers were planning to network in the city this week.”

Sebastian takes a step back. He’s struck with the sudden paralyzing fear that federal agents were about to pop around the corner and drag him away. 

“How do you know that?” he whispers.

“I…” Luke begins. “I know someone who does some work in that area. When he can.”

Sebastian crosses his arms. “Public opposition is one thing,” he says. “Knowledge of illegal action against the system is another, Senator.”

Finally, a bit of the hardness in his expressions gives way to a smile. 

“Then I guess we know where my allegiances lie.”

[lovelywhiteroses]

Can wwe still have jealous Ashino with MC comforting him?

✨🌹Hehe of course my darling Anon! Let us begin!🌹✨

⚠️Reminder that these characters are not mine they belong to the creator Espoir Du Vide who is the creator of Picture Perfect Boyfriend. So some things I may write may not be cannon. I am only going off what I know by the information I have, thank you for reading this part and let us go into the scenario together.⚠️

Ashino has always been cocky with you, pretending not to care about you. But when it comes down to Ashton he can get a little positive of you, You and Ashton got along to an extent. Ashino knew Ashton still loved you, and that’s what ticked him off. You agreed to spend some time with Ashton today, he knew this but couldn’t help thinking about a slim chance that you could just fall in love with him and leave him alone. He hates that feeling. He decided to pay a visit to the flower garden, when walking though it and clearing his head, admiring the beautiful flowers, however when he looked up a bit he saw you and Ashton. He felt his blood boil at the sight. However he decided not to intrude, he decided to listen in. “The flowers look beautiful don’t you think?” You’d smile at him as you lean down to admire the flower at a close angle. “Yeah. If anything they seem to have tidied the garden up more. I surprised they decided to still include the garden, even after-… um…” An awkward silence filled the air between the two of you. Ashton cleared his throat and decided to break the silence first. “Um yeah… but that’s all in the past now, but I mean you were put in that situation cause of me… look I’m sorry for what happened… I didn’t consider what you would think. I didn’t take your feelings into account.” You would lift yourself a bit to pat his head to reassure him. “It’s ok Ashton, yes it was terrifying for me, and I genuinely thought that maybe- agh! The point is, I forgive you Ashton.” You then hug him, Ashton was taken aback a bit, however he didn’t complain. He was genuinely happy, his face was a bit pink feeling flustered. He hugged you back, However Ashino was still watching and could help but feel his blood boil with anger, was he jealous? Before he knew it, his body moved on his own on instinct. “HEY!” You and Ashton looked over to see Ashino walking over to you and grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. “Ashino wha-?” He pull you towards him. Your head to his chest, you could feel you face heat up. “You better keep your dirty hands off them! Do you have any idea how delicate they are?! Don’t worry I’ll protect you from this Virus!” Ashton and Ashino glared at each other. “Wow… I had no idea how much you cared for me Ashino.” Ashino look at you and realized how close the two of you were. His felt his face heat up at the fact your close to him. And the fact is not cause your close to him, but the fact your actually close to him and blushing at how protective he is. He quickly let go of you and cleared his throat. “I- well of course.. you’ve been through hell with this guy. B-Besides… it’s not so hard to protect you from a guy like him.” You giggled a bit. Ashton only rolled his eyes underneath his hair. “If you wanted some attention to Ashino, all you have to do is ask and I’ll provide it for you.” Ashino got even more flustered at that, the fact your willing to give him your attention with no conditions at all felt nice but he wouldn’t admit it a loud. “You don’t need to, besides what if I don’t ask at all. So your offer is a bit pointless…” you were a bit hurt at that, but still smiled at him. “Well the offer is still open if you ever want it.” He looked away trying not to show how flustered he was. “Haha! The goodie two shoes is all flustered HAHAHA!” Ashton laughed as you nudged him to be nice. “SHUT UP!” That was the day you found out Ashino cared about you more than you knew. And you found it kinda cute.

You feel like You and Ashino might get closer in the future.

✨🌹Hopefully this was to your liking dear Anon. And have a happy holidays.🌹✨

[thatonecatcat]

"Oh wow! this is such a cool vide-" *Josh hutcherson appears"

"OH CMON-"

hutchersonS. one seeks treasure, i see. search for what you deserve, young one.