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httpsserene · 10 months

Note

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?��

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

WYD NOW? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!singer!reader

summary: in which y/n writes a song about her ex-boyfriend, 3 years after their breakup, and it gets back to him, leading to their reconnection

notes: inspired by the song WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. ending kinda sucks, but ehh i did my best. pretty sure i lost motivation for this halfway through it, but i tried to power through.

not my gif

*** JUNE 17TH, 2018 ***

“i bet, at this time in a few years, we’ll be painting the walls of our shared apartment.” my boyfriend’s whisper rings through my ears as i turn my head to look at him.

heat rises to my cheeks, Jack’s blue eyes gazing into mine.

“yeah?” i laugh, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he took before coming over.

“mhm.” he hums in confirmation, his hand snaking up under the stolen shirt that adorns my body, gripping my waist and pulling me closer. “i’ll be playing hockey, and you’ll be a big pop star, my little songbird.”

i bury my face into his neck in attempt to hide the redness on the apples of my cheeks from the nickname.

“you gonna write songs about me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“i already do.” i murmur, my lips brushing against his collarbone, causing him to shiver.

*** JULY 30TH, 2019 ***

“i don’t think i understand.” it feels like my head is underwater, my lungs burning for oxygen, but unable to receive it.

“we can still be friends, y/n. you can call me whenever.” Jack sits on my bed, gripping my hands in his hold. “the future is just, so far away and we don’t know what’ll happen.

“i don’t want my dreams to hold you back from achieving yours, y/n. you may not see it right now, but this just seems like the best option for now. and maybe, down the line, once we’re both at a stable place in our careers, if we’re both single, we can revisit us.”

my head is bobbing ‘yes’ but my heart is screaming ‘no!’

it’s like my brain understands where he’s coming from, that he’s being logical and that he’s doing this for the greater good of both of us; no matter what we’ve always thought, we’re still just kids, we were dreaming. but my heart isn’t getting that message. all my heart knows is that it’s being crushed into a thousand pieces and it feels pretty unsalvageable right now.

“are you okay?”

it’s my instinct to tell him ‘yes’. my instinct to not let him know how much he’s really hurting me. how much i want to scream that we’ll be fine. that i would give up my dream to be by his side while he accomplishes his. but i know that would just hurt him; because that isn’t what he wants.

he may be hurting me, but he’s doing it for all the right reasons. he doesn’t want me to push my dreams aside for his, because he wants to see me living them. he wants the best for me.

“yeah, i’m okay. i understand.”

*** PRESENT: SOCIAL MEDIA ***

y/nonthegram

liked by tatemcrae and 246,517 others

y/nonthegram in your faded t-shirt

that i’ve kept this long

i still hear you laughing

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user13 NEW LYRICS??

user92 that’s what i was thinking too! seems too poetic to just be a caption

trevorzegras hey that looks familiar

user57 OH MY GOD NEW MUSIC?

user04 AHHH ANNOUNCE A NEW ALBUM PLEASE

user6 I’LL EVEN JUST TAKE A NEW SINGLE! I JUST NEED NEW MUSIC

tatemcrae my best friend writes the best captions

y/nonthegram MY best friend writes the best songs

tatemcrae says you!

user83 new love song? break-up song? both?

colecaufield what’s this 👀

y/nonthegram

liked by trevorzegras and 283,752 others

y/nonthegram surprise! ‘WYD Now?’ out tonight at midnight.

wholly written in my bedroom at 2am, this song means the absolute most to me, and i hope some of you can find comfort in it like i have <3

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user04 OH MY GOD! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING OUR EARS TONIGHT!

colecaufield so proud of you!

y/nonthegram thank you, coley ♥️

user94 since when does she know nhl players?

user63 she went to high school with some of the 2019 draft class

user72 I CAN’T WAIT OMG

user18 SHAKING, CRYING, THROWING UP! I’M SO EXCITED

_alexturcotte our little melody makin’ munchkin, making moves!

y/nonthegram oh god please don’t bring back “melody makin’ munchkin”

_alexturcotte too late

tatemcrae GO BEST FRIEND THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND

y/nonthegram LEMME KISS YOUR FACE!! MWAH!!

user55 i’m so curious to hear these lyrics 😭 how am i gonna wait 8 more hours?!

jackhughes

liked by y/nonthegram and 352,850 others

jackhughes 3/3

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user77 hey wait, didn’t @/y/nonthegram date Jack in high school? is the new song yesterday about him?

user55 yess! it’s gotta be!

trevorzegras dizzyyy

user91 you should go listen to y/n’s new song 👀

user02 have you heard ‘WYD Now?’ ???

user36 omg he remembered to post 3/3

colecaufield same time next summer? 🫡

subbanator 🚀

y/nonthegram

liked by jackhughes and 227,951 others

y/nonthegram i’m so grateful for all the love on ‘WYD Now?’ these past couple days! thank you all! <3

here’s some photos @/tatemcrae took at our song celly night last night to celebrate the release of WYD Now? and greedy!

in celebration, i’ll be answering some questions in the comments!

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user74 is the song fictional? or was it inspired by someone?

y/nonthegram not fictional <3

user99 is this a single off the upcoming album? or just a normal song?

y/nonthegram the album is still being written, so i can’t confirm or deny if this is a single because i’m not sure yet if it’ll be on the track list! <3

colecaufield omg y/n please come to Montreal! i love you so much! you’re my idol!

y/nonthegram hey remember that time i bumped you with my car? i think we should do that again! i’ll stomp on the gas this time!

colecaufield omg you noticed me!!

user42 at 18, where did you imagine yourself being at this age?

y/nonthegram New Jersey <3

trevorzegras where did he set the bar?

y/nonthegram above the moon

user28 if the song isn’t fictional, then who’s it about?

user96 it’s 100% about jack hughes. if you scroll way down on her page, there’s pics of her and jack in high school, but they stop when they were 18. then he moved to new jersey and now he’s playing hockey, like the song states “you finally got the job you like”. that we’re all aware of, she didn’t have any other boyfriends in high school. she and jack seemingly dated from ages 16-18 until he left for the NHL

liked by y/nonthegram

_quinnhughes 💙

user10 this song was amazing! i really related and it made me feel so seen!

user88 big question is: has jack heard the song yet?

jackhughes call me?

user98 @/user88 if he hadn’t, i’m guessing he has now

*** PRESENT: REAL LIFE ***

my heart races as the notification comes through.

i wasn’t sure if he listened to my music, or if the song would get back to him. i just needed to get my feelings down on paper, and then it turned into a song, and then i liked it too much to not release it.

the night i wrote it, i had played a small show in New York, and i could’ve sworn i saw him in the back of the venue. of course, i knew it wasn’t, but it had rattled me; bringing all my feelings for him back to the forefront of my brain.

“call him.” my head snaps up to face my best friend, her eyes soft as she looks at me from the doorway.

“i-” Tate cuts me off with a shake of her head.

“don’t make excuses, y/n. call him.” she repeats, “you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, he makes you happy.”

she doesn’t stick around; instead bidding me goodbye and heading back to my guest room to give me some privacy.

i pace my bedroom, iphone clutched in my hand. his contact is pulled up, but i can’t seem to build up the nerve to call him. though, it seems i don’t have to, because my phone begins to ring instead, Jack’s photo displaying on the screen.

“hi.” i breathe out, pressing the phone to my ear.

“hi.” he repeats. “i heard your new song. i’m so proud of you, my little songbird.”

my face heats up, blood rushing to my cheeks. i haven’t heard that nickname in almost four years.

“thank you.” my words come out a whisper, still in disbelief that i’m talking to him again.

“did you mean it?” the question causes a panic to erupt in me, swarms of butterflies erupting in my nervous system.

“did i mean what, Jacky?” i need him to say it.

“what you wrote,” he clears his throat, “in the song. did you mean it all? do you still think of me? do you really wanna try again?”

laying sprawled out on my bed, i stare up at the ceiling as i speak.

“i wouldn’t have written it if it wasn’t true.”

“oh- okay. so, uh,” he stutters, but i can hear the smile on his lips, causing the same reaction upon my own face, “where are you right now?”

“um, my apartment?” my brows thread together in confusion, but he just chuckles.

“i mean like, are you living in LA? are you home in Michigan? what state?”

“oh.” i bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. “i live in New York, Jack.”

“really?” his voice is emotionally distant and seemingly hurt. “so close?”

“yeah.” i nod, although he can’t see me. “i’ve gone to a few of your games.”

“you did?”

“mhm.” i hum in confirmation. “i just- i didn’t wanna be the one to reach out and then have you think oddly of me or have you already be in a relationship or something. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i just didn’t wanna be seen as that clingy ex-girlfriend or anything.”

“that’s not what you are, y/n.” he sighs, “would you wanna meet up soon? catch up? i’d love to hear about your glamorous new pop star life.”

“i’d love to. although, i wouldn’t call myself a pop star, Jacky.”

“you are to me.” i blush at his words, glad he can’t see how much of a mess i am at the moment. “are you free on saturday? i have practice in the morning, but after that, maybe we could go to lunch?”

“yeah, i can do that.” i confirm.

“okay great, i’ll text you on friday to hash out details?”

“sounds great!” my cool hand rises to press against my heated face in attempt to cool myself down.

“great. i gotta go, Luke and i are going out with the guys. i’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“yeah. bye, Jack.” i wait for him to repeat a goodbye before hanging up, burying face in my pillow and letting out a muffled scream.

***

my knee bounces underneath the table of the New York City diner, my hands clasped together on the table.

Jack should be here any minute, and saying i’m nervous would be an understatement. my palms are clammy, my legs won’t stop shaking, and i’m eighty percent sure that i have no skin left on my bottom lip because i’ve chewed it all off.

the little bell above the door rings and my head snaps up to look, but it’s just a young couple with their toddler. i send a friendly smile to the tired looking mother before looking back down at my hands that won’t stop fidgeting.

i zone out, retreating back into my head and all the thoughts that have been plaguing me since we planned this meeting.

what if he doesn’t like me anymore?

what if he has a girlfriend and he’s just trying to be nice?

or worse, what if he’s just asked me here so he could tell me to leave him alone? to stop writing songs about him.

“hi.” i’m pulled out of my thoughts by Jack sliding into the booth across from me, a gentle smile on his face.

his hand snakes across the table to hold mine, and i can’t help but feel like a teenager again, back when we used to have dates like this all the time; where he would hold my hand over the table and we would laugh and joke around for hours.

“hey.” i smile back, giving his hand a small squeeze in return.

“how are you?” he questions. he brings his hand back in order to hold his menu, but his focus remains on me, not even glancing down at the menu yet.

“i’m good!” i nod. “how are you?”

“good, i’m glad. i’m good too.”

we’re interrupted by a waitress, taking a second to look over our menu’s before giving her our orders.

once she retreats, i squirm from the small talk, never having been any good at it. which Jack seems to remember.

“so, how’s the pop star life?” he smirks teasingly, and i giggle.

“not a pop star.” i remind him, shaking my head. “but it’s good. i like where i’m at right now in my career. i like having a strong fanbase but still being unknown enough that i’m not being hounded on or followed like, say, Taylor Swift.

“i’m able to just write my music and put it out, go on small tours, interact with my fans on a more personal level; it’s really nice. i don’t know if i would want it to be more than that.”

he nods in understanding, a wide grin on his face as he listens.

“i get it. and i’m really glad you’ve achieved what you wanted. i’ve always rooted for you.”

“what about you? mr. ninety-nine point season!” he blushes at my words, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, which rest on the tabletop. “how’s that?”

“it’s good! really good.” he looks back up at me, and i have to fight myself from getting lost in his eyes like i would when we were seventeen. “i love it. it’s hard, it’s a lot of work, but it’s amazing. and honestly, i’m pretty glad i’m not on a canadian team. i like that i can go out and still have a pretty normal life outside of hockey, ya know? not be stopped on the street a bunch.”

“yeah, i get it.” i tell him. “i’m so glad you’re happy though. you play great, as you always have.”

he releases a ‘thanks’ before a silence settles over us, neither of us sure what exactly to say next.

i begin to play with the paper wrapper from my straw, winding it around my finger before sliding it off and gently pulling it straight again.

“so, Cole sends me your songs.”

snap! the paper wrapper breaks in two as i look up at him.

“he does?”

“yeah. you know i don’t get on social media too much, so i don’t always know right away when you put one out, but Cole sends me all of them. just in case i miss one.” he explains.

my head bobs up and down as i try to display a level of cool, “oh.”

“that doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asks. “that i don’t always listen to them right away?”

“not at all! i didn’t really think you listened to them at all.” i confess, sinking lower into the booth. “not really your genre.”

he smiles gently, reaching forward to hold my hand tightly in his.

“y/n, you could write a children’s nursery rhyme, and i would still listen to it.”

my head tips back against the booth, joyous laughter spilling from my lips. my nose scrunches, resulting in a small snort, which cause him to laugh as well.

“you’re just saying that.” i choke out, and he shakes his head.

“no! i’m serious! i would!” Jack insists, right as the waitress arrives with our food. she sets our food in front of us, making sure we’re all set before she retreats.

a comfortable small talk takes over as we eat; discussing our friends and their accomplishments since graduation.

“you remember that time,” Jack starts through broken laughter, “that you hit Cole with your car because he said he didn’t think it would hurt?”

“yes! and i barely even tapped him, but the big baby whined that it hurt so bad, i may have crushed his NHL dreams!” my face hurts from smiling so big, but i can no longer fight it.

“and then he was fine and back to practice that afternoon! not even a bruise left on him!” he retorts.

“ever the dramatic, Cole is.” i sigh, sitting back in my seat from position slouched over the table.

“since we’re walking down memory lane, do you remember how i said that maybe down the line, we could revisit us?”

i’m sobered up now, my smile gone as i eye him. he’s playing with his bracelets, a sign of nerves from him, and i just now realize that he’s still wearing the string friendship bracelet i gave him at eighteen; just before his draft.

i swallow the lump that built in throat, nodding, “yeah.”

“you think maybe now would be a good time to do that?” he asks. “start slow; go on dates again, maybe you could come over sometime for movie night with Luke and i, come to a few more of my games, where i actually know you’re there this time. and then see where that could take us?”

butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and my teeth sink into my lower lip, biting back a smile.

“i’d love that, Jack.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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thedoctorisgroovy · 21 days

Text

Slim Pickin's

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

» Word count: 1655

» Warnings/Tags: Spencer has a gf(non canon made up name), mentions of sex (but no detail), alcohol consumption (no one is drunk though), using people to get over someone, reader sleeps with people as a coping mechanism, angst, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending!!!

» A/N: I heard this song and couldn't resist writing something based off of it. Who else is obssessed with her album?? If anyone was gonna make me break my streak of bad dating it was be our boy Spencer.

I realised I was in love with Spencer after the 3rd time hooking up with my friends with benefits that month.

Over a bottle of wine at my best friend Penelope’s house, we’d discussed my boundaries and expectations and after the douchebags I’d been out on simple first dates with, the bar was still unbelievably low and yet was still clearly unattainable.

“I just want someone who’s jacked but kind ya know? Literally just nice and is alive and breathing, not much to ask for.” Close to slurring every syllable that came out of my mouth and essentially on the verge of tears. I wanted to follow it up with something about wanting Spencer - my other best friend and colleague - but I didn’t need to. She knew well enough what I was insinuating after hearing me pine over him for months already.

“Okay get that cute and sexy butt up, we’re going out and finding you someone that you can move on with!”She exclaimed, reaching out to tap my butt as I stood with her.

“I already have someone, I have Jake.” Reminding her of my frequent friends with benefit situation that developed about a month ago.

“Well you can have multiple ‘someones’ until you get over him, so lets go!” And with that she dragged us to the nearest bar to find me someone new to drink up and drown my sorrows in.

After a thoroughly disappointing evening of fancying and talking to exactly no one, I decide to part ways with Penelope and go home, it was 1am on a work night after all and no more drinks or men would distract me from Spencer the way that sleep could. I finally crash into bed and receive the ever so romantic text from Jake.

“You up?”

“Yeah, just got home from the bar. Long night lol”

“Could I come over their?”

I groan dejectedly before screenshotting the message and sending it to Garcia captioned “Why am I sleeping with a man who doesn’t know the difference between their, there and they’re?” I can almost hear the giggle in her reply.

“Ooh get some girl, see you in the morning, don’t be late!” I send her an upside down smiley face emoji before flicking back to Jake’s name in my messages list.

“Sure. See you in 10. Don’t plan to stay over, I have work at 8.” I reply before dashing off to the bathroom to freshen up and look presentable. I debated sending Spencer the screenshot, knowing he’d get a kick out of someone’s appalling grammar but decided not to, not wanting him to 1. know that I’m sleeping with strangers and 2. give me a lecture on the importance of dating people who are “on your level.” He would never judge me, but he does want what’s best for me, even if he doesn’t realise that it’s him. I hear his familiar knock after a few short minutes and go to open the door. When I do, Jake is immediately on me - obviously pleasantries don’t exist when you’re horny - and we fall into the pattern we’ve developed over the time we’ve been sleeping together.

As Jake did his best attempt at having sex with me, my mind wandered to Spencer. His beautiful curls, his grin that reached both ears and lit up his eyes, his laugh, his wonderful brain full of science and facts and trivia. The way he smelt when he allowed me to hug him sometimes. I knew it was wrong to think about him this way, especially in this moment and especially since he has a girlfriend, but I couldn’t help it. This past case hadn’t helped either. We’d been paired together on every aspect which meant a lot of one on one time in the car, the office or coffee breaks. Everything about him drew me to him like an invisible thread and my heart broke thinking that my current situation would never happen with him. Jake finishing brought me back to my reality and I pretended to while he leaned down to kiss me. He wasn’t a bad kisser by any means, I just didn’t care.

The guilt set in after he left, knowing that I was just using him to feel some sort of connection and satisfaction. I’d been playing him like a slot machine, except I was still losing. I’d been complaining about these men, all the time knowing that I’m the problem purely because I can’t have what I want. I know that he’s using me too otherwise we’d probably be officially dating instead of just hooking up, but it doesn’t alleviate the embarrassment of knowing I won’t be able to look my co worker in the eye in a few hours time. I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes, the feeling that I’ll probably end up alone finally getting through to my thick skull. Just as I started to doze off my phone suddenly buzzed. I grab it, only to see Spencer’s name flashing under the text notification.

“Sorry to disturb you so late, are you awake?”

“Hey Spence, it’s okay. I’m just about to head to sleep but we can talk if you need to. Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll let you sleep. Can we talk at work instead, in private?”

“Of course. See you soon. Goodnight Spencer.

“Goodnight.”

My heart pounded in my chest at the possibilities of what he could want to talk to me about. If it was something personal, surely he’d go to Emily or JJ, they’re his best friends.Some sick, petty part of me hoped he somehow knew about my night-time escapades and was jealous. I ended up convincing myself it was work related just to be able to fall asleep that night.

I barged open the door to Garcia’s magical tech cave without looking up from my phone and immediately started off loading to her.

“Ooh girl, it is slim pickin’s out there I swear.. OOF!“ I look up at what I bump into and am met with Spencer’s tear stained face and red eyes, he looks so hurt that my heart breaks in regards to him for the 2nd time in 12 hours.

“Spencer? What’s wrong, are you okay, are you hurt?”

“He broke up with Allie.”

“Oh my gosh, sweetie I’m so sorry. Is this why you wanted to talk last night?” He nodded slightly, wiping his eyes with the backs of his sleeves.

“Please don’t call me sweetie” He pleaded, laughing almost incredulously, the bitterness on his tongue tainting the usual sweet melody of his laughter.

“Okay..?” His sudden change sent me reeling, I always called him pet names and he’s never once had a problem with it.

“You’re the reason they broke up…” Garcia lilted teasingly.

“Garcia!” Spencer snapped her surname back at her, desperation flooding his features.

“Me? What did I do?” I bit back, I knew that I had been nothing but kind and respectful to Spencer so how the hell could this be my fault? Spencer stood there looking mortified and frantic, his frazzled curls sticking to his forehead slightly. I stared at him before begging,

“Spence? Please talk to me.”

“Okay. What Garcia means is, we broke up because I realised that I have feelings for you. On this case, all the time we spent together, I started to fall for you. But it wasn’t just this week, I realised I liked you since you started working with us. And when I got home you weren’t there but I wanted you to be, but I knew that wasn’t fair to Allie so I called her and she came over and we talked and I broke up with her.” He rambled off animatedly, running his fingers through his hair, something he did when he was stressed or preoccupied. I just stood there frozen, mouth hanging open like I was trying to catch flies or something. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard or thought I’d heard. ”You.. you like me?” I thought I was going to faint.

He crossed the gap between us in one stride and wrapped his hands around my waist. His touch was so careful and gentle that I melted into it without hesitation. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a few seconds before looking up into his beautiful eyes. Everything I wanted and needed was right here in the moment, and I was afraid to let go. He lowered his voice just close enough to a whisper, words meant just for he and I to hear.

“I wanted to talk to you last night but you said you were going to sleep, so I spoke to Garcia instead, and she told me that you’d been hiding this from me all this time. I know it was out of respect but I’m sorry you were hurting. Would you like to go to dinner with me? On a proper date?”

A squeal that left Penelopes’ mouth was quickly silenced by Spencer and I turning to shoot her a death glare. I reached up to stroke his cheek, eyes softening again as I turned my gaze from Peneople to him. Everything in me wanted to scream yes. I wanted to jump onto him, kiss him, wrap myself around him, live in the question for however long I could. But I knew I had to give him an answer, and a real one at that.

“Spencer that’s not fair to you or Allie. You just broke up and I don’t want to be a rebound. I would love to go out with you, okay please know that. But I’ve waited this long, I’m happy to wait a little longer.” He beamed at me, one of his signature ear to ear grins that I’d fallen for long ago.

#me #writing #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #sabrina carpenter #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Spotify

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salvadorbonaparte · 2 months

Text

This post has to be taken with a grain of salt because it combines anecdotal evidence with remembered scientific evidence and I'm not going to re-read every single study and link it for a one off tumblr post written during breakfast. I might do that for a video or write up a more detailed post if people want me to.

The main problem with subtitles is that people talk really fast. Reading speed varies a lot from person to person.

Several studies in different countries with different writing systems, languages, education systems and approaches do d/Deaf/hoh education suggest that d/Deaf/hoh people often have problems with reading speed and reading comprehension. There's some variation in the actual results and different opinions on the hows and whys but it most strongly affects people with pre-linguistic hearing loss and there was that German study talking about how early access to sign language improves reading comprehension. I'm not an expert in that particular field but I'm pretty sure a lot of this can be explained by ableism in the education system and language deprivation but some of the studies also theorise the brain got something to do with it. There definitely needs to be more research into this all but the current understanding is that closed captions/sdh need to take that slower reading speed into account to make subtitles accessible to everyone.

I'm neurodivergent and have auditory processing problems (so I often use subtitles myself). I also consider myself to have pretty good, maybe even above average reading speed and comprehension. But I also watched a couple things with subtitles and the sound turned off or set to very low. I did this with an English subtitled French film once and some closed captioned English and German media. When watching subtitled foreign films in languages I don't speak it takes a bit more effort, but I can still gather clues from the tone of voice, who is speaking, background noises, soundtrack etc. Without that additional information, you have to solely focus on the subtitles and information on the screen, which took me even more effort. I actually felt like my reading speed was a little slower because I had to pay so much visual attention to everything at the same time. Again, this is totally anecdotal and could have also been influenced by my neurotype. But it did inform the way I think about subtitles and target audiences.

#Subtitles #Macks Musings

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wejustvibing · 1 year

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So I've been wondering why ppl think fans should be okay with the sideways and unnecessary coments about Lewis "because he's a grown man" however when it's one of his yt colleagues that are being "maligned" it's okay to speak up and defend them.

I've come to the conclusion that most ppl assume they aren't racist and therefor once they don't see racism it's not what's happening abd we're overreacting.

I'd like your thoughts on this angle because after this weekend my brain cannot fathom how in 2023 ppl cannot identify blatan racism driven decisions.

you're spot on.

they think all that is okay because it's lewis. yes, there's racism but isn't he successful? what more do you want? and that's the long and short of it. still i've rambled on.

i mean some try, but they don't realize that spotting the most obvious racism is thee easiest part. it doesn't end there. they simply do not realize the amount of mind space the color of one's skin occupies. of the person as well as the society and this sport. in case of lewis, just because he's a success story in places nobody's walked before, doesn't mean they've accepted him, in fact it's the opposite and they've proved it.

and people forget that. they will acknowledge he doesn't trust people easily but ignore where that stems from. he's a rich man why do you have to defend him? well because he's thee most successful in his sport and still not safe from bias and covert racism within his own environment? they keep missing that it's the undertones and assumptions. how they perceive him and his emotions & actions vs a yt man's. how they psychoanalyze him and stop at nothing but always end up giving benefit of the doubt to his counterparts.

i blame f1 pundits and ex drivers just as much though because they clearly set the tone with their borderline and sometimes overt racist comments, stereotypes and misgivings. the whole natural talent vs technically strong debate, the whole it's the car debate, the whole he's insecure debate, the whole he's bad for his teammates' mental health debate. these narratives have sickening undertones if you think about it. and eventually the fans pick them up and write their own fiction around it, in a way, weaponizing it.

theres this edit by his own fan/s that i keep seeing, with a caption like 'the day lewis hamilton finally earned everyone's respect' and it's just that video of him sitting in disbelief in his car after the ad21 robbery. i know the intention isn't that but the ignorance from his own fans? so the most successful f1 driver, a black man, couldn't express what he felt after getting robbed and humiliated in front of the whole entire world and that's how he finally 'earned' respect? really?

and i mean, of course, he is a grown successful rich man. it's made his life easier and he does not have the same basic struggles as the rest of us anymore but that doesn't mean he needs to pay a price for it. doesn't mean he deserves excessive scrutiny, weird as fuck narratives, harsher punishments and superhuman status in exchange. and it's always in extremes too, he'll either be held at the highest standard or just straight up insulted for being in places he shouldn't have dared to be.

tl;dr: they're mostly ignorant

#my-brain-dump

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cerealandchoccymilk · 1 year

Text

Trigun Bookclub: Vash's Speech (FLOP EDITION...)

all bookclub posts

so i wrote this entire thing over a span of a day and a half. and found out just as i was finishing it that the ultradeep™ vash lore analysis point i wanted to make is actually NOT in the og trigun. [here's my mental breakdown post lol]

but i spent so much time and energy on this that i cant just say whelp! and delete it... so i'm posting it anyways. the straight-up incorrect parts are crossed out and some post-realization notes are in red. theres also a few paragraphs of postscript commentary/rambling in purple at the end of the post.

read it if youre bored i guess. but take it all with a grain of salt.

in the future (once we get to trimax vash+knives interaction) i will write the version of this that my memory intended, with an actual conclusion that makes sense lol

Mini-entry this time because I got consumed by linguistics brain worms :P But I wanted to make sure I talked about Vash's speech and his usage of pronouns!

A bit of background before we get into the analysis:

Japanese pronouns are very different from English. As the Wikipedia page puts it, "The use of pronouns, especially when referring to oneself and speaking in the first person, vary between gender, formality, dialect and region where Japanese is spoken."

The styles of spoken Japanese in general are another can of worms.... They're similar worms so I'll be touching on them a little, but it's not that relevant yet.

In real life, people have multiple pronouns (and speech styles) that they switch between depending on the situation, like with friends and family, at work, in front of kids, etc. For example, I primarily use 俺 online (along with joke/slang pronouns for funsies like 漏れ or おれっち), 自分 or 僕 in public depending on the person, and 私 in closeted situations. My cis male JP-school classmate uses 俺 with friends/family, used to use 私 in class at first, and then transitioned to 僕 as he got more familiar with the teachers.

Although this sort of code-switching happens all the time IRL, it's way less frequently illustrated in fiction, both for consistency's sake and because fictional characters just don't care as much about status. That's why I thought what's going on with Vash is particularly interesting!

Details continued below...

--original readmore position--

Here are the connotations for the two first-person pronouns that Vash uses (pulled from Wikipedia):

ore/おれ/俺 - informal - males - Frequently used by men. Establishes a sense of "masculinity". Can be seen as rude depending on the context. Emphasises one's own status when used with peers and with those who are younger or of lesser status. Among close friends or family, its use conveys familiarity rather than "masculinity" or superiority. It was used also by women until the late Edo period and still is in some dialects. Also oi in Kyushu dialect.

boku/ぼく/僕 - formal/informal - males - Used by males of all ages; very often used by boys; can be used by females but then carries tomboyish or feminist connotations. Perceived as humble, but can also carry an undertone of "feeling young" when used by males of older age. Also used when casually giving deference; "servant" uses the same kanji (僕 shimobe). Can also be used as a second-person pronoun toward male children (English equivalent – "kid" or "squirt").

(the usage of boku as a 2pp is actually part of a different phenomenon--if you're interested in that kotolabo's video explains it better than i ever could (eng captions available))

And these are the notes for every time Vash has used a first-person pronoun in the span that I've analyzed so far, which is until Chapter #06. I'll be adding onto this in the future as my annotations continue. no need anymore. i skimmed the rest and found out that, aside from a childhood flashback, vash uses exclusively ore after chapter #05.

The first instance is in Chapter #02, when he cries in French.

「なぜ僕がこんな目にあうのママン　何も悪いことしてないのにみんなが僕を狙うよママン」（独り言） "Why do things like this keep happening to me, maman? I don't do anything bad, but everyone's always after me, maman!" (to himself)

Here he uses boku, the softer pronoun. However, because he's putting on a "helpless French boy" persona, this one actually doesn't say much about Vash (other than that he's being silly).

The second time is later in the same chapter, when surrounded by the women of April City.

「奴に…会うまでは！！　俺は立ち止まる訳にはいかないんだ！！」（主婦たち） "Until I see him again... I cannot afford to stop moving!" (Housewives)

This time he uses ore, the rougher and more masculine pronoun. The situation is very tense; he has several guns pointed at him. This is also the first instance we see the trauma and hurt Vash holds inside. Overall he's very desperate here. We can see in a bit that ore is his "default." He drops his usual polite/kind tone to be as sincere as he can with the women. I think he can't afford to code-switch and be polite because this is a very personal and emotional moment for him. This doesn't mean his tone is necessarily rude (in-universe!!! probably better not to talk to strangers like this IRL); he still uses relatively soft language.

The next two are in Chapter #04, both when he refuses the sandsteamer guy's job offers.

「やだやだやだやだ　僕は争いごと嫌いなの！！」（砂蒸気の人） "No, no, no, no! I don't like trouble!" (Sandsteamer guy)

「僕は客なの！！この車の警備態勢にはチョーー期待してるからヨロシクね！！」（砂蒸気の人） "I am a passenger! I have great faith in your security, so I entrust everything to you, okay?" (Sandsteamer guy)

He uses boku here. As we'll see in future instances, this is the pronoun he uses in front of other people and is the one he chooses most frequently. He constantly avoids trouble, so he always uses soft language and the humbler pronoun. nope it was just out of politeness towards a stranger and trying to sound less assertive/more harmless(?) to get out of the situation

In the next page, Vash talks to himself during his piss break.

「…まったくもう　保険屋の2人組といい…　俺(おら)ァもっとひっそりとやってきたいのに」（独り言） "...Jeez! As if those two insurance girls weren't already enough... I was hoping for a nice, quiet trip." (to himself)

Although the pronunciation here is oraa, it's a reduced form of ore wa (wa is a grammatical particle). His tone here is sort of laid-back (and tired, as you can tell). Again, this is his default 1st-person pronoun.

A few moments later, on the last page of the chapter, he says,

「よく分かった　ツラかったろう！！大丈夫だ僕にまかせな　悪い様にはしねえぜ！！」（カイト） "I understand. It must have been so hard! It's okay... I'll take care of you. I won't let anything bad happen to you again!" (to Kaito)

Here he switches back to boku. He does this in front of almost everyone, but this is especially the case because he's speaking to a child he wants to protect. Using the boku pronoun gives a softer, more approachable vibe.

In Chapter #05, he goes back to ore when he talks to Kaito about No Man's Land.

「時々考えるよ　この惑星に…来た事が本当に俺達にとって幸せな事なのか　ってね」（カイト） "I sometimes wonder... Was our arrival on this planet actually something for us to be happy about? ...Y'know?"

From here on Vash is more familiar with Kaito, enough to open up a bit about his true feelings about humanity. It is also partially Vash talking to himself. irrelevant/coincidence

In Chapter #06, Vash talks to himself in front of Kaito.

「間違いない！！俺にゃー死神か貧乏神が２ケタ以上ついてるんだ」（独り言・カイト） Overhaul: "Why do death and destruction always follow right behind me?!" Literal: "I swear, I have at least 2 digits’ worth of death-gods or poverty-gods haunting me!!"

He uses ore here again. At this point, he's pretty much completely familiar with Kaito, and considers him a friend/teammate. The speech here is very casual. Skimming through the later chapters, I was able to confirm that from Chapter #05 on, Vash uses exclusively ore.

wait

AAAND CUT! this is where my dumb ass realizes that vashs speech is different between trigun and trimax, and that the conclusion i planned on making was trimax-exclusive :) now forget everything you just read in this post past the wikipedia table screenshot because itll be completely irrelevant in less than a week!!

trimax vash uses boku 99% of the time and ore exclusively in front of knives as far as i can remember. i wanted to say stuff about how he is always wearing the kind persona as a mask and shows his true emotions (aka his sheer trauma and rage) in front of knives and knives only

but like. he really doesnt in og trigun. thats just him being kind to strangers??? and barely has any deep meaning to it. it doesnt mean the individual analyses are wrong but theyre definitely not making the point i was going to make at the end of this post and it just aint that deep.

very frustrated with myself rn... but the 2 good things i got out of this are 1) i wont have to write the pronoun explanation again and 2) i skimmed through all of trigun so future annotations might be faster/cost less spoons since i already have some things to write down in mind.

This will definitely get a part 2+ in the future, especially once we get to see Knives. the redo will just be a new single-part post. this stuff will most likely only become relevant once we see knives+vash interaction in trimax The Meryl speech analysis we mentioned in a past post is currently in the works, and will also be part of this speech series!

#head in hands #trigunbookclub #trigun speech analysis

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fair-city-reporter · 13 days

Text

I won't be giving this an official caption/title because I literally don't know what to call it, but uh- I'm a participant for Whumptober this year! For anyone who doesn't have the slightest clue what I'm talking about, whump is defined as a genre within fandoms involved in physically and mentally "whumping" (or rather angst'ing) a character. Whumptober's meant to be this October event where creators (artists, writers, etc) create whump for characters - both fandom and original.

I'm really wanting to be a completionist this year, meaning I'll be able to finish and post all 31 prompts but here's the thing: I have finally come up with an idea for what I'm doing in regard to the second prompt. I'm writing here since I decided it would be for Wordgirl; I was originally going to seek help on how to make it whumpy before I remembered I'm allowed to combine themes and prompts however I like. After giving it another glance-around, I came up with a neat little trick on how to make it work!

I'll cover the main idea I had for the incoming whump prompt, but I will not be talking about the full scope of the plot - just to make things a little more interesting! Essentially, it's a role reversal ft. ToBecky which is quite self explanatory; years have passed since Tobey's debut as Fair City's hero and has been at odd ends with Becky's villainous persona but following one of their latest encounters - something brings them closer than ever before... and it's about to get dangerous.

Read below the cut for general information about the role reversal au!

The role reversal originally began as a joke between one of my mutuals; after having seen fanart - I decided why not make my own and thus began this silly project of hero Tobey and villain Becky. Wordgirl obviously doesn't exist in the context of this universe as I wanted her villain name to be different.

How I envisioned it working out;

Instead of Becky being taken in by the Botsford's, she's found by Steven Boxleitner, before he was ever fused with Squeaky, and he decides to adopt her - not wanting to leave Becky and her 'pet' monkey alone in the forest. Things are fine for a while, but she doesn't become Wordgirl; wanting to follow in her adoptive parent's footsteps, she spends a lot of time in his lab and helps with his projects where need be among other small things. Unfortunately, at some point - Steven has his accident and he becomes Dr. Two Brains, beginning his spiraling descend into villainy.

As for Becky, she originally starts as being this sort of not-quite henchmen to Dr. Two Brains; assisting in some of the heists, as well as helping with plans and such. All things normal, but what's a bored alien to do? Well, she decides to create her own villainous persona (only something goes wrong, but we'll get to that later-). Sometimes she'll work alongside Dr. Two Brains, and other times she focuses on her own mischief. Becky has never once harmed a civilian but she's kind of a menace and at one point meets Tobey. (Granted, they also go to the same schools, but still-)

I also feel like Tobey's still the one crushing on Becky/[REDACTED] but Becky is currently treating it all as if it's all a fun, little game of cat and mouse. Tobey also does not have powers per se and is more like a mini Tony Stark, is currently my vision. I thought it would be fitting that way.

If anyone's curious, I'll be covering more later while avoiding spoilers! I need to turn on asks, I think but grrr - for now, I'll leave at this!

#randy’s thoughts #wordgirl #wordgirl au #whumptober #whump writing #whump prompt #becky botsford #theodore tobey mccallister iii #tobey mccallister #tobecky #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic ideas #whump fic #this is not the fic itself! that will come later #wordgirl pbs

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fivepointpalettes · 2 years

Note

Pallets like this v

With long names and such!

My sincerest apologies for how long it took to compile this list. I tried to pick out the ones which were either significantly longer, or were... particular, one way or another, for lack of a better word. I tried to avoid song lyrics and such, but with some of them I couldn't help myself.

Hope you find these sufficient!

Looking through my older posts, this type of longer caption was a relatively recent development, but I nonetheless tried to pick ones that might work for you! I originally tried to sort them by topic, but there were so many... you can probably guess the point at which I have given up. I’m sorry. There were just so many.

Sorry I didn’t Realize People Like You Have Feelings

She Was A Girl He Was A Traffic Cone

You Must Have Real Self Confidence Mortal To Attempt Flirting With Something All Holy

Just Friends But We Kiss Sometimes

Let Your Tender Hands Rip Me Apart

Let Me Be Your Unreliable Narrator, Baby!

Focus On Me (Ignore The Blood)

I See You Everywhere See You Everywhere See You Everywhere

Prove That You Love Me And Reanimate Me

Stand Still As The Darkness Grows Roots In Your Mind

The Lack Of Self Esteem I’ve Felt Since I Learned How To Read Or Write

Not Great With People But Pretty Good With Milk

Lost In Your Eyes Never To Be Found

I Saw The End Of The World In Your Eyes

I Touch You And My Hands Burn My Hands Burn My Hands Burn (What Have You Done)

What Are You Doing In My House / Now Now I Don’t Usually Make It A Habit To - Stop Yelling - Break Into People’s Homes But As You Can See Sometimes I Do

Well First Of All I Am Positive What You Did Is A Criminal Offense / And Second Of All Why Didn’t You Invite Me

Once Again I Am Forced To Ask What In The World Did You Bring Into Our Home / What Do You Mean What Did I Bring It’s Very Clearly A Radioactive Waste Barrel Don’t Pretend You Don’t Know That

What’s A Little Murder Between Friends

Hey Quick Question Are We Really About To Commit Arson?

Does This Taste Expired To You Too?

It’s Even Smaller On The Inside If You Can Believe That

Only One Thing In This Room Is Edible And Good Luck Figuring Out Which One It Is

Your House Has No Anomalies But I’m Reporting You For Bad Taste In Art

I Think I Know What A Rat Looks Like

How Many Rains Will It Take Before The Ceiling Starts Leaking

I’m Sorry I Chewed Through Your Walls But You Must Understand I’m Calcium Deficient

Please Be Mindful Of The Evil Yoghurt Demon In The Freezer

Who Put Strawberries In The Bathtub

Who Put Strawberries In The Bathtub Again

This Is The Third Time Someone Put Strawberries In The Bathtub Who Keeps Doing This Please Stop

Of All The Things You Could Be Doing Why Are You Romancing Soda Cans

Soda Cans Are Great I Love Accidentally Spilling Liquid On Myself

It’s Not A Good Cake But It’s Not A Bad Cake Either (As Still It Is Cake)

Scallops Reside Where My Brain Should Be

Date A Girl Who’s Secretly A 20 Meter Long Man-Eating Centipede

Being In Love And How It Sucks Sometimes

Wish We Could Go Out For Coffee But You Hate Me And I Hate Coffee

Do You Remember When You Told Me That You Love Me When You Told Me That You Love Me When You Told Me That You

I Loved You I Did So How Did We End Up Like This

This Will Hurt You More Than It’ll Hurt Me - And That’s Okay!

I Need You To Understand That I Really Do Want What’s Best For You - And That Simply Isn’t Me

Father I Do Not Wish To Consume The Cough Syrup

The Doctor Tried To Check My Heartbeat Only To Find Out I Don’t Have One

American Girls Scare Me

I’m Always At Least A Little Bit Scared Hopeless And Frustrated

The Annoying Whisper In The Back Of Your Head

The Shadow Out The Corner Of Your Eye

Can You Help Me Find What’s Wrong With Me

Too Old To Die Young And Too Young To Just Die

Plunge Head-First Into A Worldwide Panic Attack

Unexplainable Excruciating Pain That Started Suddenly And Will Never Go Away

Wasting Your Life Feeling Like An Underperforming Tool In Someone Else’s Hands

An Unhealthy Relationship With One’s Own Identity

Men Like Us Aren’t Supposed To Feel These Things

Men Like Us Die Alone Because We Think We Deserve It

My Body Is A Craft Store

My Lungs Are Full Of Ink

The Tall Faceless Lad Out The Corner Of My Eye Who Watches Me Sleep While Pointing At The Door

Peeling An Apple Just To Eat The Skin

Biting Into A Rubber Ball Like An Apple While Maintaining Full Eye Contact

For Sale A Set Of Gold Teeth Never Used

I’m Just A Normal Functioning Member Of The Human Race And There Is No Way Anyone Can Prove Otherwise

Visual Representation Of The Sound A Rainbow Makes

The Man Whose Hands Are Always Covered In Melted Butter

The Girl In A Blue Dress That Lives In Every Village Ever

The Boy With A Mouthful Of Chalk

I’m A Weirdo Who Likes To Eat Chalk

The Magical Princess’s Strawberry-Scented Battle Axe Of Infinite Bloodshed

Although You Are Yeay Smsll And Your Kind Have Existed In The Universe For Only A Shore Tihe You Are An Inportant Part Of Sohething Yery Large And Very Bcavtiful

A Friend Is Someone Who Belieuse In Gon Euen When Gon'ue Ceased To Belieue In Gonrseif

How To Completely Disapp8ar Be Found And Never

Your Smile Toasty As Yarm As Spiver

My Face When Face When My F When Facle The Fwhen Thface Mey Face Face When My

The Breathing Part Of Who Knew By The Correspondents

Can You Imagine If Los Angeles Was A Real City

Tower Cranes Are My Favourite Animal

When I Was A Small Child I Held An Iguana Once

Ed Sheeran Is My Enemy He Looks Like A Hot Dog

I Hate Citations Why Can’t You Just Trust Me

A Classmate Of Mine Once Borrowed One Of My Pens And Then Decided It Was Such A Good Pen He’s Just Gonna Keep It

Sconce Doesn’t Sound Like A Word To Me But It Is One

Spells Mom With An O To Confuse People Trying To Guess My Nationality

The Parasocial Relationship I Have Formed With The Duolingo Cast

Sorry That Your Rant About How The Game I Like Ruined The Whole Series Forever Didn’t Make Me Like It Any Less

For The Longest Time I Was Convinced That Pocky Was A Wooden Stick Covered In Chocolate And People Were Eating It Purely For The Anime Aesthetic

My Girlfriend Said I Eat Corn Weird Which Now That I Think About It Would Explain Why I’m Consistently Covered In Butter

Wishing To Rant About Fanfiction But Not Wanting To Show How Much Of A Nerd You Secretely Are

The Eye Lips Eye Emoji Face Fills Me With Unbridled Rage

When I Was A Child I Was Afraid Of Eating Mars Bars / Because I Thought They Had Fish Food In Them

The Frankly Terrifying Clip Art I Found When I Googled Champignons

Doctors Say You Need A Consistent Amount Of Sleep To Be Healthy So I Consistently Sleep For 4 Hours A Night

Whether You Qualify As A Beach Or Not Depends On The Amount Of Sand You Have Consumed In A Lifetime

Only The Floor Candy Can Sustain Me

I Am Irrationally Afraid Of Paper And Plastic

Tainted Love But The Clapping Is Replaced With The Law & Order Sound Effect

Softer Cleaner And Fresher Clothes For The Low Cost Of Your Firstborn Child

What Will It Take For You To Give Up Your Humanity And Become One With The Night

The Price Of Wisdom Is Bad Grammar

The Eternal Dance Set To The Sweet Melody Of My Out-Of-Tune Guitar

Been Hiding From Myself Since The Last Time I Died

Don’t Aspire To Be Average You Can Go So Much Lower

My Heart Was Stolen By A Blue-Haired Angel With Piercing Eyes And A Penchant For Singing

Lonely Sewer Cryptid Looking For Love

With All Due Respect Sir This Is A Plum

You Call It Birth I Call It Escapism

Falling In Reverse Just Means Getting Up

The Privilege Of Being Born Somebody Else

The Act Of Balancing A Bottle Of Juice On Your Head

My Favourite Ride In The Theme Park Is A Bench

They Stole My Blood Today

Me And My Lungs Love You

On The Outside I May Look Like A Regular Man But On The Inside I’m A Japanese Spider Crab

My Head Is Full Of Froyo

Seychelles Flag But The Colours Are Out Of Order And Now Also Inverted

Slam-Dunking A Toaster

Chugging A Bottle Of Body Wash

Grandma Stop Touching The Stove \ No Need To Confirm It’s Not On

I Found God Inside An Apple Core

Some Days I’m Afraid I Will Cut My Eyes By The Sight Of Glass Shards

Look At Her Go Biting Everyone Who Comes Near Her Like A Champ

I Apologize If You Found Finding This Place Difficult But You Must Understand I Am Currently Evading Detection And Arrest For Crimes Undisclosed

God’s Gift To Women (Promptly Returned)

Getting Hunted For Sport With Your Good Friend Bates

So Good At Sleeping I Could Do It With My Eyes Closed

Your Teeth (Hand Them Over)

An Overemotional State Projected Upon The Unsuspecting Public

What If You Could Glow In The Dark

You’re As Beautiful As The Light Reflecting Off The Teeth Of The Moon

Why Are You Sleeping In The Algae Pond

Write Your Love In The Blood Coursing Through My Veins

Please Relieve Me Of The Dreams Plaguing My Every Waking Moment

And If You Thought It Was A Threat It Might Have Been

Find Yourself In The Patterns On The Wall

The Horrifying Ordeal Of Having Loud Neighbours

Putting On A Show To Seem Alive / When I Don’t Feel Alive

Time Has Stopped Passing A Long Time Ago

Once Again A Cold Rainy Winter Gives Way To A Cold Rainy Spring

Here’s Cheers To The Man Who Stole My Heart Away

Please Stop Eating Bugs It’s Weird

You Made Me The Villain Of Your Story Darling Now Own Up To It Won’t You

If Someone Tries To Shoot You Simply Tell The Bullet To Leave You Alone

She Drowned Jupiter In Her Martini Glass

The Sort Of Love You Only Feel When Drunk

It’s Past My Bedtime And I’m Thinking Of You

Say The Apples Seem Strange This Year

The Man Who Looked At Me So Sweetly In Soft Flavours Of Deep Beige

Oh Baby Don’t You Know Our Sort Is Locked Out Of Heaven

There’s No ‘You’ In 'My Cup Of Tea'

You Have To Stop Making So Many Enemies

Now We’re Cooking With Lasers

Middle Of The Night Yet You’re Wide Awake Thinking About Waluigi

You Have This Power Inside And It’s Frightening

You And Me And The Aquarium Between Us

I Don’t Know What This Is But It’s Not An Avocado

Wish Me Luck Honey (I Couldn’t Ask For More)

All The Things You Did Before You Did Them

You Ought To Stop Eating Spiders It’s Creeping The Guests Out

It Sure Is Wet In Here I’ll Tell You What

I’ve Been Chugging Poison Waiting For The Day You Inevitably Take Me Up On My Offer And Take A Proper Bite Out Of Me

Keep All Body Parts On The Inside Of The Vehicle At All Times As Failure To Comply May Result In Having Them Unwillingly Removed

Drowning In A Coffee Cup (What An Awful Way To Go)

Do The Trees Bite Where You’re From

My Overconfidence Is Astounding And It’s A Surprise I’ve Never Been Killed

I Understand Where You’re Coming From But Where Did You Get The Gun

Have You Found Yourself Or Your Loved Ones Suffering From A Case Of Empty Eyes

We Wouldn’t Be Here If SOMEONE Didn’t Spill Ketchup On The Sheets

Tastes Like Hot Sugar On A Sharp Knife

As You Can Tell By The Yellow Filter We Just Entered Mexico

You’re Telling Me He Died From The Mould? And What Did The Mould Do, Stab Him?

One Of These Beans Tastes Like Cola And The Other Tastes Like Black Mould

Next Time Maybe Don’t Go Into The Forest At Night Hm Buddy? Just A Thought

Well That Was A Little Unnecessarily Brutal Don’t You Think?

Tender Words And Hellish Screams

Too Cool To Sleep At A Reasonable Hour

For A Place Called Silent Hill It Sure Is Horribly Noisy

Smoke’s Water And We’re Water Therefore We Are Bleach

Your Love Tastes Like A Heart Attack

Pixy Stix and Broken Bones

You Smell Like Nonsense With A Hint Of Melancholy

Crying Because Cats Are Cute And Deserve The World

I’m Sick But The Bags Under My Eyes Are Sicker

I Live In A Room With No Windows

I Haven’t Left The House In Months

Don’t Stand So Close To The TV Lest The Static Claims You

Forever Dizzy In This Lonely World

Day 243 The Wall Effigy Started Talking To Me

I’m Not Happy Unless I’m Miserable

Summer Lasts A Week At Best But My Dedication To Sweater Vests Is Eternal So Look Me In The Eye Little Teacup And Melt If It Bothers You So Much

Chicken Nuggets Heat Up Faster On The Higher Shelf Of The Oven Because Of Their Proximity To God

It’s Summer (Hot Weather Turns My People Violent)

You Can’t Just Ask A Guy Why He’s In Love

Seeing The French Everywhere Might Be A Side Effect Of Something And I Have Yet To Find Out What But It Could Be Asbestos

Remember When We Would Stay Up All Night Reading Fanfic On Our Phones

What Do You Know About Being Divine

Couldn’t Believe When You Said You Were A Deity

When I Was A Child I Thought / That The Word Rainbow Had Eight Letters / And That One Of Them Was D

Who Needs Sleep When I Can Just Drop Dead For A Rest

I Don’t Check My Email In Fear Someone Tried To Contact Me Via Email

I Saw A Bumblebee Today And It Was Huge Really Absolutely Massive

Mid-Performance Chainsaw Solo

I Want To Drown In Your Swimming Pool

Feelings Of An Almost Human Nature

Can’t Let It Slip That There’s More To Me Than Little Old I

Manual Therapy For Anxious Hands

A Sense Of Failure Wasting Away And Never Living Up To Your Full Potential Unable To Get Things Done And Putting Everything Off Because You Are Scared Of Progress

He To Whom The Cake’s Dedicated

You’re Quite Pleasant But The Pleasure Is Mine

What Dropping A Large Bag Of Coal On Your Foot Feels Like

I’m One Of Those Annoying People Who Would Rather Use Fifty Commas Than Shorten The Sentence

Seeing The Future In The Tear Stains On Your Cheeks

Do You Ever Feel Crowded In A Lonely Room

I Want To Eat Eggs Whole Shell And All

Adopt Your Enemies To Establish Dominance

I’ve Existed For Thousands Of Years Before Gaining Sentience

You Are A Dream In A Crowd Of Nightmares

Get Your Shoes Off My Bed You Animal

Do Not Invite Me To Your DnD Party Unless You Are Ready To Accept The Consequences

Too Good For Heaven Too Bad For Hell

I’m Not Above Eating Off The Floor

I Distinctly Remember The Time He Stayed With Us

I Know I May Look Like A Real Person But I Am Actually Not A Real Person At All

When It Comes To Near Death Experiences I’m An Expert

Your Skin Smells Like The Last Days Of Summer

I Never Learned How To Write

God Wouldn’t Have Wanted This / But This Isn’t About God / It’s About Our New Dish Soap / Now Available In Supermarkets Near You

Do You Remember Your First Time Tasting Water

You Know How Sometimes An Unwanted Guest Comes Over And You Do All You Can To Make Them Leave While Remaining Polite

Fizzy Brained Children Are So Troublesome

I Forgot What The Antagonist Of Legend Of Zelda Was Called And For A Good Moment Thought It Was Gandalf

You’re The First Descendant In A Line Of Workaholics Utterly Convinced Your Willingness To Sacrifice Your Own Health Determines Your Worth As A Human Being And Promptly Working Yourself To Death To Provide Unto Others What You Never Had A Chance To Understand You Deserved Yourself

I Am The Mirror In Which You Can See All The Evil In The World

So Far Throughout My Life I Got Mildly Electrocuted On Three Separate Occasions

Asking My DM Friend To Put A Light-Emitting Crab In Our Game

Leaving The Fridge At 3 In The Morning

Pepsi Makes My Teeth Go Numb

Peach Yoghurt Tastes Better With Whipped Cream

Thinking About Him (The Enlightened Prophet)

There’s A Strange Man Hiding In The Fruit Aisle

My Brain Operates On Frequencies You’ve Never Even Heard Of

The Curious Desire For Overwhelmingly Vivid Symmetry

My Computer Chair Broke So Now I’m Stuck Here Leaning To The Right

People Ask Me How I Manage To Think Of You Everyday And To Be Completely Honest I Never Know What To Say Because It Feels So Natural

Pepsi Running Through My Veins

What Flavour Is Your Mind

Sorry My Dad Said I Can’t Join Your Cult Today For I’m Grounded

Squirrels Ate My Will To Live

Being Told I’m Allowed To Make My Final Class Project About Any Topic I Want Awakens A Demon Inside Me That Makes Me Subject My Classmates To Only The Finest Of My Obscure Interests

Standing In Front Of Me She Quickly Undressed Confessing Her Desire To Cause Me Physical Harm And Needless To Say I Was Baffled But Nonetheless Intrigued

You Love Them Now You’ll Hate Them Later

The Only Thing Greater Than My Ego Is My Impostor Syndrome

Don’t Try To Tell Me How I’m Supposed To Breathe

Why Is There Fish Bait In The Fridge Again

You Scream Ancient Curses In Long Dead Languages And Perish Surrounded By Friends

The Subtle Taste Of La Croix And Gentrification

The Cons Of Being My Friend Greatly Outweigh The Pros

You Are Who We Say You Are Because Public Opinion Beats Self Worth Every Time

Angels Lost Their Charm When You Walked In

Some Days I Feel Like A Lobster On A Skateboard

Make Yourself Comfortable We’ll Be Falling For A While

Bleed Your Soul And Blind Your Eyes

You Can Stay At My Place But You’ll Never Find Me There

Had A Dream Today That Hastur Was A Canon Character In Deltarune (I Woke Up With Enough Adrenaline To Bypass Anxiety And Respond To My E-Mails)

Murder And Other Expressions Of Love

You Locked Me In A Cage And Threw Away The Key And When You Found Someone Better I Was Left To Gnaw On The Bars For My Freedom

What Do You MEAN There Was A Fire

Cough Syrup Flavours According To Tumblr User Darkangelofglory

A Little Weirdo Driven By Consumption

Does A Straw Have One Hole Or Two

I Want That Coca Cola Limelight

Clouds Did Not Exist Before 1997

More Dish Soap Than God Intended To Exist

Some Days The World Is Too Bright To Function

Sometimes I Look Up The Last Minutes Of A Movie I’ve Seen Before Because I’m Not Ready For The Emotional Investment Of Going Through The Plot’s Ups And Downs But Crave The Gratification Of A Happy Ending

My Companion Looked In Horror At The Scene Unfolding Before Our Very Eyes Before Finally Saying Out Loud What We’ve All Been Thinking / Did He… Did He Steal Her Teeth?

Give Me Salvation I Swear I Won’t Bite

Your Love Has Brought Me To The Point Of No Returning

I Can’t Get The Bees Out Of My Teeth

Open The Fridge Dear (I Promise I’m Not In It)

Please Don’t Lick The Walls

Two Egg Yolks Six Teaspoons Of Sugar And A Tablespoon Of Cocoa

Go To Sleep In The Morning And Wake Up At Noon Only To Go Back To Sleep Till Evening And Wake Up Full Of Regret And With A Headache

The Infinite Game Or The Inevitable Disappointment Induced By The Terminality Of Things And Its Ability To Ruin One’s Enjoyment Of The Thing In Question

If A Mushroom Can See Itself As A God So Can You

I Sold My Lungs On The Black Market

This Man Shoved His Face In a Tub Of Soap Bubbles - What Happened Next May Surprise You

A Sort Of Soft Paste Which Tastes Like Perfume

I’ve Nothing But Contempt For Fahrenheit

The Little People At The Bottom Of The Ocean

When I Grow Up I Want To Be Fruit Juice

You’re Being Hunted (By Me)

He Kinda Looks Like He’s Sucking On A Brick

Crying Over A Chicken Nugget

Slide-Whistles You To Death

All The Personality Of A Collapsed Lung

The Burning Fragrance Of Cleaning Supplies

The First Time You Scraped Your Knee Falling Off A Bike

Go Ahead And Floor It Luv

A Toast To Our Special Little Brand Of Sin

Dunks You In Tea LOL

Sipping Sunflower Oil From A Wine Glass

Even The Mushrooms Mourn Losing You

You And All Your Money That You’ve Stolen From The Poor

Where Do You Get Off Poisoning My Tea

The Man Of Wine And Cigarette Smoke

#Long Post

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sailor-aviator · 11 months

Text

✨

Okay, so kind of a personal post, but I wanted to get my thoughts down, and I will end up deleting this later lol

For my whole life, I have loved books and stories. I have literally been writing stories since before I even knew how to read and write. Somewhere at home is a picture frame that my great-aunt put together of a drawing I made when I was like two or three, and it was a sloppy finger painting, but it's clear that it's meant to be two people and some kind of creature. And she typed up a caption for it, and I guess it was the description I had given her of what the painting was supposed to be.

"A prince saves a princess from the scary dragon, and they live happily ever after."

Not my best work, admittedly, but it's the first documented time of me making a story, and I looked at that picture frame with fondness. Who knows where it is now, probably tucked away in some box in the attack after my parents moved.

But, then I got super into writing in like the third grade when I came up with my first original story, and then my love for writing snowballed from there. I can't tell you how many stories would flit in and out of my brain over the years, but somehow I think y'all have an idea just based on the ideas I pitch on here. But, just know that the ones I put on here are only a fraction of the ones I come up with.

I don't know why I'm so in love with writing and stories exactly. Maybe it's the thrill of making my own worlds where my problems aren't so present and overwhelming, or maybe it's because I love to find the magic in different possibilities. That sounds kind of smarmy, doesn't it? But, I think it's still true.

But, something that's been part of my personal journey as of late is the idea of doing things for myself and not others. My whole life, I've been such a huge people pleaser, and now at my big age, I've decided that I don't want to live my life like that anymore, but I'm faced with the problem of: how do I stop?

I'll start off by saying that I love my parents a lot. They've made a lot of sacrifices for me and they do a lot for me, and I'm forever grateful to them. But whether they meant for it or not, there was a lot of pressure to be a certain thing growing up. I could have hobbies like writing, acting, painting, drawing, singing, etc. But I had to be realistic, and that meant that I wasn't allowed to pursue those things as my main goal. I had to find a way to stuff myself into the box of "STEM, business, or something that would make money." And I get why. Financially, life was rough for a really, REALLY long time growing up. Both of my parents came from households where their parents worked more than one job to make ends meet, and this was back in the 60s and 70s.

So, for most of my life, I allowed myself to have those hobbies, using them as an escape for the growing pressure I was feeling at needing to be "perfect" for my family. And that's just it. I was never "perfect" enough. I could have won first place at a tournament for speech and debate, and I would be given critiques on how I could have done better. They always told me they were proud of me, but the word "but" always came after their words of praise.

"You did such a good job, but..."

"That was really good, but..."

"It would have been even better if you just..."

I didn't hear the words "I'm proud of you" by themselves until I was 12 years old and it was from a family friend. I remember waiting for the "but" to come, and when it never did, I had to excuse myself to go cry in the bathroom.

So I escaped further into my little worlds, and sometimes I would share them with my friends who would always tell me that they loved my stories, but there was always the nagging feeling in the back of my head that they were lying. They had to say that because they were my friends, but also because the stories weren't...perfect.

I've always been a perfectionist, and it's something I'm learning to get over as time goes on. These past few months have been such a journey for me because I've been allowing myself to be bad at shit.

But then I started posting on here, and it made me feel so good to know that literal strangers thought my writing was good too. You guys didn't have to lie to me and tell me that it was, you genuinely thought my writing was great! And it makes me so happy! It refueled my love for writing, and I hope I can keep writing for years to come!

But I've also been telling my mom about all of this (leaving out the 18+ bits lol) and the other night she looked at me and asked me if I had considered actually getting a story published.

Now, this was a bit of a blow for me for a couple of reasons. Yes, I'm so happy that she's finally taking an interest and seeing how passionate I've always been about writing, but...

But why now? Are you asking me that because you genuinely think I'll get published, or are you asking me because you're hearing that people actually really appreciate my hobby and you think I can make money off it? Why are you suddenly so enthusiastic about something I've made clear that I always wanted to do?

Idk, I'm probably just overthinking the whole thing, and I know she's genuinely happy for me, but it still kind of heart. Yeah, the dream is to one day be a published author. It always has been, but who knows if I'll ever finish anything good enough to be published, ya know?

Anyway, if you stuck around this long you can breathe out a sigh of relief lol I'm done rambling and ranting for now. I'll get some of the updates out to you guys when I can

#personal #long post #y'all do NOT have to read this lol #I will more than likely delete this later #gonna start using this website as my diary lmaoooooo

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sickiebabytae · 2 years

Note

If your requests are still open and if you have time, can I request a scenerio where a member eats something way too late at night (like ramen or something) and wakes up in the morning really nauseous? My brain is screaming either Jungkook or Namjoon but I’ll leave the sickie up to you! ❤️ thanks in advance!! I love your writing

thank you so much for the request, anon!! I'm so so sorry it's taken me literally forever to get to this, and that I kind of derailed a bit when it came to the original plot 😭😭 I hope this is still to your liking!

sickie: jungkook

caretaker: namjoon

word count: 2125

jungkook knows this will be a bad idea the moment he sets out the (six) ramen cups neatly on the table, but rational thinking isn't really in his ballpark right now. he's been feeling stressed out from their tour lately, and feels as if he hasn't been performing as well as he should be, so he thinks he needs a good stress-eating session to get his mind off of things.

but as jungkook takes a step back and looks at the ramen cups laid out, he can't help but laugh to himself. "this is so stupid." he murmurs, pulling out his phone. this is something he thinks army might enjoy. plus, he's been trying to be more active on Twitter recently. he captions the photo with something funny and his hashtag before setting his phone down and beginning.

just as he finishes getting through the first cup and a half, lips already zinging with spice, he feels his phone vibrate against the table. he picks it up and sees it's a message from namjoon.

rapmon hyung: jungkook what the hell are you doing

rapmon hyung: I saw your post -_-

jungkook feels a sheepish smile spread across his face.

jungkook: … I'm eating my emotions

jungkook: :D

rapmon hyung: good god jungkook

rapmon hyung: this screams bad idea, you know

rapmon hyung: your stomach is going to hate you tomorrow :/

jungkook: ill be fine hyung dw

jungkook: we've got a off day tomorrow anyways, it'll be fine

rapmon hyung: you know jimin wants to go sightseeing tomorrow

jungkook: yeah, I know, I'll be okay for it :)

jungkook: please don't worry hyung, it cant turn out THAT bad

jungkook can practically hear namjoon sighing from his hotel room a few doors down

rapmon hyung: okay fine

rapmon hyung: I trust you

rapmon hyung: but don't say i didn't warn you

jungkook: ay ay captain

with that, jungkook returns to his food.

this was definitely a bad idea, jungkook thinks to himself when he's all done. well, mostly done. by the last two he couldn't bring himself to finish off the soup at the bottom. his stomach is already bloated and full beyond belief.

he decides to make light of the situation and posts an update to twitter with one photo of the (nearly) empty ramen cups and one selfie of him looking, very rightly, in pain. his lips feel swollen and his nose won't stop running and itching from the spice, eyes watery too. he throws all the cups away and shuffles into the bathroom, washing his face down and stifling a burp into his hand. he shudders and sighs. "you idiot, jungkook," the singer whispers to himself, voice thick. he pushes himself back out to his room and gets into bed. maybe lying down will help him digest, he thinks, all lessons he's ever learned in his entire life failing to come to him as his eyes start drooping closed. he feels like he's going to be sick already and he doesn't like it. maybe he'll just… rest his eyes for a moment. let the world fall silent around him. yeah, yeah that's what he'll do.

against his will, jungkook begins to fall asleep, and he drifts off before he's even able to stop himself.

jungkook wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and stomach cramping. he winces and sits up instantly. "oh god- fuck-" he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but that alone forces stomach acid up that burns his throat as he burps. he places a hand over his mouth and cringes, swallowing. "shit-" he freezes in place with no idea what to do. how did this happen? he feels so much worse than when he did when he-

he fell asleep. a groan leaves his lips. he just had to have fallen asleep. his stomach is killing him, bubbling and churning. he thinks he's going to throw up.

moving slowly, he shuffles to the table and grabs his phone. more stomach acid burns up his throat, swallowing again. he goes to text namjoon since he seemed to be the only one who was caught up with his shenanigans the night before and sees that he missed a message right before he fell asleep.

rapmon hyung: jungkook you look terrible-

rapmon hyung: did you really eat all of that??

jungkook sighs before reluctantly sending a text of his own, deciding to ignore namjoon's. he only hopes that namjoon is either still awake or won't wake up from the message notification. he just wants someone to know what's happening

jungkook: I feel sick

jungkook: really sick

jungkook: I'm really sorry :(

jungkook shuffles back to bed and sits down, not wanting to lay back in case it makes whatever acid reflux is going on worse. he jolts with a hiccup and grimaces, untucking his shirt from the jeans he'd forgotten to change out of that keep digging into his stomach. he slips his hand in between the hemline and his abdomen to give it some leeway, sighing when it provides the slightest bit of relief. he knows he should get up and change, but he doesn't want to risk it. he feels like the tiniest movement will set his stomach off.

his phone vibrates in his other hand to jungkook's surprise and he lifts it to look at the screen to see namjoon having responded to his message.

rapmon hyung: god kid I told u

rapmon hyung: hold on

rapmon hyung: I'm coming over

jungkook's eyes widen, mortified already. namjoon cant come, he knows he looks a mess.

jungkook: no no no-

jungkook: hyung it's fine really

jungkook: I just felt like someone should know

jungkook: hyung-

as jungkook types out his next text, he hears knocking at the door followed by a hushed, "jungkook? are you in there?"

jungkook suppresses a groan and slowly pushes himself to stand, stifling a low whimper when his stomach churns in protest. he makes his way to the door, unable to straighten properly from just how full and in pain he is, and opens it with cheeks flushed with both shame and the beginnings of what might be a fever. jungkook doesn't know at this point. "hey, hyung." he murmurs. he can't bring himself to meet namjoon's eyes.

he hears the leader sigh and make his way in, warm hands coming to rest by jungkook's sides. "you idiot, come on. let's go back to bed. I'll grab you some clothes."

jungkook manages a few short nods, trudging his way back to bed and laying down in a curled up position, fighting back a grimace and laying his hand back over his stomach. he can vaguely make out namjoon shuffling around the room, grumbling under his breath. probably something to do with jungkook's clothing organization. or lack thereof; jungkook has always had a bit of an unorthodox way of storing his clothes while on tour. it's just how his brain works, okay?

still keeping his gaze averted, jungkook feels the bed dip next to him. he allows himself the smallest of glances and notices the clothes on namjoon's lap. jungkook can't help but smile; those are some of his favorite pyjamas to wear on hard days. he didn't know that namjoon had picked up on it.

"arms up." namjoon orders gently. jungkook reluctantly complies. he can't help but blush when namjoon pulls his soiled, sweaty shirt off, feeling embarrassed that namjoon has to deal with this. to top it off, jungkook shivers when the air conditioning hitting him, realizing belatedly that his bloated stomach is now on display and painfully obvious. jungkook finds himself wrapping his arms around it as quickly as possible and curling in on himself.

namjoon sighs. "jungkook-ah, look at me please."

jungkook shakes his head stubbornly. but before he knows it, namjoon's hand comes up to his cheek and tilts his head up, their eyes meeting. jungkook finally clocks just how welled up with tears his are, and he can see it when namjoon clocks it, too. "jungkook, are you crying??"

at that, jungkook feels his bottom lip quiver. a sob bubbles up out of him, unexpectedly. "fuck, I'm sorry-" he tries to look away again, but namjoon doesn't let up.

"hey hey, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like such a big deal I just-" namjoon sighs again. "you're feeling really sick, huh?"

jungkook manages a pathetic nod. another sob.

namjoon gives a nod back. "okay, that's okay." he says; it sounds like he's talking more to himself than jungkook, but the maknae is too caught up in his self pity to notice it all that much. "we can get through this, not the first time one of us has gotten knocked down."

"but… the sightseeing… the others-"

"will understand if you can't make it tomorrow." namjoon promises with a gentle smile. "now let's finish getting you changed so you don't get more sick from the cold hitting you."

it's been an hour and jungkook has yet to fall asleep. namjoon lays next to him, having already drifted off a while ago, snoring away without a care in the world. jungkook is extremely jealous. his stomach is still gurgling and churning and it doesn't seem to want to provide him with any relief any time soon.

slowly, carefully, jungkook pushes himself up into a sitting position, afraid that he might choke on the productive burps that keep crawling up his throat. he worries at his fingers. his breathing feels short and heavy and jungkook swears under his breath. he hates this. he hates being sick. arguably more than anything in the world. he hates feeling so gross and out of control and-

great, he's crying again. jungkook shoves his head into his hands and tries not to make too much sound. this is all his fault, and he knows it, and that makes the whole situation so much worse somehow; this disaster is a product of his own making.

jungkook's head continues to swim and swirl with thoughts, and before he knows it, something heavy rushes up his throat. his mouth waters dangerously, a sour feeling coating the back of his tongue and weighing it down. he's definitely going to throw up. he feels it coming on, and fast.

throwing the sheets off himself as quickly as he can, jungkook hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, hand clamped over his mouth. he crouches in front of the toilet with a few heavy pants, white-knuckling the sides of the bowl. the first wave of vomit comes out of him with a guttural gag before jungkook can even fully process that it's happened. and then another wave comes out. and then another. and then he's rolling; more specifically, his stomach is rolling. agonizingly so.

jungkook tries his hardest to be quiet. he really, really does. but it's difficult to do so when each round of puke rips his breath from his chest and burns the way up his throat, eliciting involuntarily whimpers and groans and pants.

he feels a warm hand on his back before he registers the fact that someone has joined him in the bathroom; namjoon. jungkook can't help but give a choked sob. "i-i'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I-"

"shh," namjoon hushes. "it's okay. just get everything up, it'll help you feel better."

namjoon's calm, deep voice helps some of the tension leave jungkook's muscles, but they quickly seize up again when he has to throw up once more.

after another five minutes or so go by, the last few filled with nothing but weak, unproductive gags and pants as jungkook tries to regain his breath, namjoon decides to make the executive decision that jungkook is done. the leader reaches over to flush the toilet and helps jungkook to his feet. "come on, let's wash out your mouth and go to bed."

jungkook gives a weak moan but lets himself be dragged to the sink, pliable. now that his stomach is left with nothing more than a dull ache, and waves of relief continually washing over him from the nausea finally being gone, jungkook is tired. so, so tired. he barely feels it as namjoon guides him through washing out his mouth and leading him back to bed, helping jungkook sit on the edge as namjoon shuffles off to grab a new shirt, jungkook having soiled the one he'd changed into from sweat.

the boy is practically already out cold by the time he's been changed and tucked in. the last thing he registers is a gentle touch brushing back his hair and the familiar voice of his leader whispering for him to "sleep well, jungkookie."

#hello..?#😀😀😀#im here!#its been so long im SO sorry #please forgive me 😞😞#but im back!! (hopefully)#i really want to try to get more fics out after this because i really do miss writing #until then tho #emeto tw #emeto #sick!jungkook #caretaker!namjoon #(ive also never really written joon before so this was fun for me)#okay bye! 💗#i also havent completely proof read this so please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes 🙏

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bee-dot-exe · 9 months

Text

Alright. Okay. Buckle up. I'm making this post I guess.

I'm gonna be honest, when I suddenly saw someone post on here and the caption or hashtag said something like "Forever neg", I just. Didn't read it. I didn't really read anything that came up on my dash with his name actually because it was 95 percent negative. And I wanted to wait to see if he would say anything or share his side or whatever before I read anything or saw any opinions of what could potentially not be the same for the sake of my own mental health really. And when I went to where the search bar and trending tabs are and saw that a recommended tag to follow was "Forever situation" I was actually mad.

Well he went live while I was asleep or doing something and I didn't know, so when I saw something here saying he had been live, I didn't read it, but I opened the vod so fast.

And I cried. Not hard. But I did.

First off, I would like to say I appreciate Forever for going live and talking about this at all, he could've waited much longer to say anything or just brushed past it entirely, but he didn't. That doesn't mean the subject of the stream was okay, I just am glad he said something at all.

What he did was really bad. Like not okay at all. But I also believe that some people, absolutely not every person, but some, can grow up and try to change. And I would really like to believe that Forever is one of those people. I am not defending him in the slightest, I am not denying anything, but I also am taking into consideration that this happened some eight years ago.

I don't know if I will look at him completely the same or support him with every inch of my being again since knowing this, but I do wish him the best in whatever comes next in his life, be that projects or furthering his relationship or whatever.

I will still occasionally make him a subject or mention him in things I write because I'm not writing about ccForever, I'm writing about qForever, and his character meant and still means so much to me.

I've had anxiety my whole life, this past like month has been especially bad, and I've felt genuinely a bit sick since I watched. I just can't stop thinking about it. I have only known about Forever for like four months, but his character and therefore him as a creator, have been wrapped around my brain. People say things, namely Badboyhalo, that he is like the sun kind of joking, but it truly does kind of feel like it.

And that's it. He ended stream with a montage of clips from the server with Cucorucho shooting him point blank. No more interactions or lore or theories.

I'm saying this once and I hope that's all the times I need to say it.

We are not going to do anything or urge anyone to say anything further on the matter to anyone if they don't want to talk about it. Not to Quackity or the QSMP team. Not to other creators. Not to friends or family of his. Not to other fans past or present. Not to Forever.

We are allowed to be angry or confused or even grieve. But we will do it privately and be respectful.

Goodbye Forever.

#mcyt #qsmp #forever player

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anulithots · 11 months

Text

Life is short, they said, so live it to the fullest, enjoy every moment, never regret a thing, and end it full of happy memories.

How could it be that simple?

My life cycled, all that happiness, meant to be spread out over the course of my life, concentrated itself into short bursts. It was wonderous, to love something and everything so much that it hurt. Surely, this was that sort of magic I felt in fiction, or in those rare moments where I actually see - usually outside and when there's trees around.

It left. Happiness so strong and I gripped it as tight as I could, clung to it as it thinned and stretched and strained, before it was too much, and I let go.

My hands were raw, throbbing, (clutching happiness really does a number on your internal world), yet that pain didn't compare to the void. The nothingness, churning at the base of neck, sparking, sending ripples down my spine.

Before the numbness, the nothing that weighed so heavy on my head, which didn't work so well anymore.

It didn't make any sense, all the wonders were still there, everything I should be enjoying is still there, where's the happiness?

(Wasting time, wasting life, I'll never get this back again, what a waste, I should be doing something, I should be happy, happy, happy and life only goes downhill because when you're adult you have too many responsibilities to be happy so I needed to be happy now and I wasn't and that was so strange because children were supposed to be happy, happy, happy.)

And thus begins the journey to try and fix myself - because nothing with the outside world was wrong - and maybe if I'm right, if I'm like the happy ones, then it'll be like the stories, I'll give myself a happy ending.

Weird, it appears that other's happy endings involves being scheduled and productive and having achievements and waking up early and there's nothing about what to do when your brain isn't doing simple, simple things.

Weird, I wanted to play outside more, I wanted to bring my siblings and play forest games like we used to, I wanted to make fairy gardens and paint watercolor leaves and learn biology and write fanficition about it and watch anime and stay up very very late to watch the moon and find patchworks of mosses and clovers and take pictures of them, perhaps put captions along them, I wanted to make stickers and make a thousand pom-poms with googly eyes and give them to strangers and write poetry and be a witch and write an epic story and stare at the clouds for hours, doing absolutely nothing. THAT'S what I had trouble doing, that's what you're supposed to show me how to do, to make me happy all the time so I can do the things I love and never feel off ever again.

But I feel off and wrong, for so so long and it's... weird.

Because there's a weird world in my head, and a weird way it makes me see the world, especially since I've stopped trying to give myself a happy ending.

I've let myself, wander, not clinging to that happiness, and it's... quite freeing, actually, when I don't need to be happy to live my life.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled words #creative writing #take care of yourself #self help #personal growth #self improvement #did not help #me at least #if it helps you #then that's cool #good luck #dear wanderer

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vivianseda · 1 year

Text

Thank you Em @ NeuroWild

“Here are some examples of ways that classrooms can be neurodiversity affirming.

This is obviously not an exhaustive list. There are a ton of other, very important things (for another day).

The main thing I hear when I suggest accommodations and flexible expectations in the classroom is ‘but what about all the other students?’ ’we can’t just let this kid be out of their seat’, ‘it would be too distracting’, etc.

My opinion of this is: very few kids show up to kindergarten being naturally inclined to sit perfectly still or silently. I don’t believe that kids naturally need either of those things to work, learn, or focus.

I think that kids are trained to do those things to meet classroom rules and teacher expectations. When a neurodivergent kid then moves around during learning, or hums quietly during spelling- the teacher often highlights this as a problem. And the rest of the kids see that. They know what the rules are, they know that student isn’t following them like they should be. They learn to know that student as ‘naughty’ or bad at school.

I think that is a conditioned response.

Early primary teachers could just as easily explain to their young students that everyone’s brains and bodies need different things. Learning doesn’t look the same for everyone. Focusing doesn’t look the same for everyone. That student who is rocking in their chair is doing what their body needs. That student who has headphones on while writing is listening to their sensory needs- awesome. Teachers can either model acceptance and celebrate difference, or they can respond to our kids with annoyance - teaching the rest of the kids to do the same.

Kids who really need silence to work- let’s get them some headphones for when they want them. I bet the majority of the class get work quite happily in a not-silent room. Let’s get some quiet music playing in the background. Why not? Where in the real world is silent? My house literally never is.

Kids are far more flexible than adults in being able to adjust to stuff like this. Teachers have such an opportunity to make massive change.

Note: I’m not in any way suggesting that screaming, roaring noise should be accepted in the classroom. I’m saying that I don’t think silence is essential.

I have a lot more to say about this but it’s a pretty long caption already.

What other things makes a classroom neurodiversity-affirming?

Em 🌈”

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year

Text

Double-Date from Hell

Y’all ever think of something so hilarious that you HAVE to write it, and then it just spirals out of control? Yeah, this is it.

8941 words; I’ve seen versions of this general joke going around and it’s still pretty funny in my brain so please just humor me; I guess it’s a Modern AU w/No Devil Fruits, but Brook is still a skeleton and Minks and Fish-men exist… somehow…? idk; SO MANY PEOPLE ARE ALIVE IN THIS AU THAT SHOULDN’T BE but you know what this is my story too damn bad I mean it’s already set in a quasi-Midwest metro; this took me so long to write because I kept cracking the fck up and I’m sure you’ll be able to tell where

Double-Date from Hell; Law has a new girlfriend. Cora-san’s got a hot date. Nami’s shagging a doctor. Things might be easier if Bell-mère had mentioned to her daughters she’s actually bi before she reconnected with an old flame. [modern!AU, LawNa, Bellazón]

Shuffling into the kitchen, Law blearily went into the fridge and began to poke around almost absentmindedly, hunger the only reason as to why he was currently existing on the mortal plane. What had supposed to be a twelve-hour shift in Logue Town General’s emergency room—as a favor, no less!—had turned into a twenty thanks to the perfect storm of call-offs and reckless pieces of bullshit trying to copy a social media trend. It reminded him of why he never wanted to stay down in Emergency full-time—fuck… doing clinicals there had been bad enough…

“Oh, there’s the sleepy-head!” Law jumped at the sudden confirmation that his father was in the room as well. He took a container filled with leftover noodles and popped it in the microwave oven with a bit more aggression than was necessary. “Rough night?”

“I remember when social media was used to share pictures of cats with poorly-spelled captions and complain about the accuracy of the fantasy book-to-movie pipeline, not to show off doing handstands in dangerous places and getting high off lip balm.” He glanced at his father to see he was dressed rather nice—that was a risk, considering how clumsy the older man was—though most things were better than his current pajama-pants-no-shirt-tousled-bedhead-at-four-in-the-afternoon look. “Cora-san, you know what happens when you wear a tie.”

“I know, I know, but I need to look nice tonight. What do you think?”

“That you look like a man about to turn forty who can’t so much as wear a tie without catching it on something every five minutes.”

“Well, yeah, but the shirt’s nice, right?”

An extremely pale pink with a red heart pattern; the tie was black, though his trousers were white.

“It’s… you.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” The microwave oven beeped at Law and he took the container out to stir. “Probably won’t be back until late, if I’m back at all tonight, so don’t worry if I’m not in.”

Law stopped mid-stir and stared at Cora. “Why would you both be alright, but also not come home tonight?”

“What, you can’t tell?! Your old man’s got a hot date!”

The silence that fell over the kitchen was simply unbearable. Law did not currently have the reserve mana to process that the grinning goofball he referred to as his foster father—foster roommate, on particularly irritating days—had anything even close to a potential sexual encounter lined up. He put the noodles back in the microwave oven and turned it on again.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he grumbled. “You know I don’t care what you do—we’re both adults now.”

“Oh, come on… you aren’t even the least bit happy for me?”

“I can’t legally be happy until I get at least six cups of coffee and these noodles in me, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine, fine; spoilsport.” Cora sat at the table and pouted, watching his son put together some coffee. He knew he was tired when he brought a mug of it over, as well as the noodles still in the container he heated them up in. “It’s not like I’m an old man—can’t I take inspiration from the fact my son got himself a cute girlfriend?”

“You’ve never met her, so there’s nothing to get inspired from,” Law replied dully. He twirled some of the long pasta on his fork and scowled. “No, this is not an offer for you to meet her either. I want to make sure of this one before that happens.”

“You make it sound like I’m embarrassing.”

“You picked me up from school in clown makeup.”

“It wasn’t that bad…”

“Multiple times.”

“It kept things interesting.”

“Kids recovering from near-terminal illness don’t exactly enjoy being interesting.”

“The assholes that were scared of clowns never bothered you after that.”

“Okay, that I’ll give you.” Law shoved more pasta in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ll go out tonight too—bound to be something going on.”

“There you go,” Cora beamed. “Here we are: a couple of young stallions, ready to make the night theirs!”

“Never again say those words in that order again, by all that is good in this world.”

“Spoilsport,” Cora scowled. A devilish grin then flashed across his face. “We should double-date!”

That too was a resounding, firm no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the generally-accepted consensus that there was no party like a Straw Hat party.

They weren’t all rowdy affairs that got the cops called at two in the morning—they reserved those for when the on-duty officers were ones likely to just turn the music down and bring their own drinks—but it was always the collection of people who were there that boggled Law’s mind. He had only started attending such shindigs recently after a weird series of events led to him pulling the charismatic teen out of the bay and helping make sure he was still alive. Luffy had declared them friends and that he now had an obligation to hang out, which would have been a one-and-done thing if it wasn’t for the people he collected in the nearly-rural house hidden amongst trees and actual property.

The East Blue kendo and archery champions? A world-class chef? A teenaged medical prodigy? The preeminent Void Century historian turning academia on its head? One of the most sought-after mechanical engineers in the world who also moonlighted in architecture? A living rock music legend? The man that kept literally all the trains in the region running smoothly? That didn’t even get into the kid’s brothers, or people outside of his innermost circle…

…and it certainly didn’t get into Nami.

He had originally begun talking to the redhead after observing her at that first party he attended. She was very level-headed—especially compared to Luffy despite that not meaning much—and knew precisely the situation they had going. It was the modern equivalent of the Enlightenment salon, where people got together and exchanged ideas and made changes happen. It was a counterculture hotbed with significantly fewer hard drugs and way more bellyflop competitions between people who couldn’t swim in the backyard’s in-ground pool. It was the next generation figuring shit out, getting ready to usher in a new age. Except, not only did the weather-and-surveying whiz keep everything running, it was very easy to say that she was the brains of the entire operation, making Luffy’s natural charm work for something. The next thing he knew they were chatting amiably, then kissing, and—after a considerable blackout—woke up very naked in bed with her the next morning.

It was a little awkward as they put everything together after that. They both thought the other was older than they really were (he thought her only a couple years younger than him instead of the actual six, and she thought he was well into his thirties (to be fair, he did say he was an actual surgeon while flirting)), and there was the wolf whistles that came out of some of the other Straw Hats as they went down to breakfast, but they settled into something… comfortable after that. The “crew” generally accepted him and he found their antics… tolerable, he guessed, especially considering what putting up with them meant for his love life…

“Oi! Witch! We need you to stop sucking geriatric face for two minutes and rein in Luffy!”

Nami groaned into Law’s mouth in frustration before breaking the kiss to glare at Zoro from across the large, open-concept living room that thankfully only contained the main Straw Hats crew aside from the man beneath her. Law knew to not remove his hands from her waist and rear, else she get pressured into something more involved. “What happened to someone saying he could handle him?”

All she got in response was a one-eyed glare.

“If she’s not back in two minutes like you said, Roronoa-ya, I will make you regret that age comment,” Law warned, voice dripping in sarcasm. Zoro flipped him his middle finger, which he returned.

“Boys, behave,” Nami sighed as she left the room. Law took it as his opportunity to see if there was any food available yet, shuffling over to the kitchen island where Sanji was working. A mug of coffee was already waiting for him as he sat down and watched the blond at work.

“Thanks,” he muttered, drinking the coffee gratefully.

“Just keep her happy,” Sanji replied. He and Law were in a tenuous sort of agreement, both men recognizing they were from the same Blue from the moment they met. Neither of them talked about it much, but it was clear that they were both in the East because it was not the North, and that was all they needed.

“If not, then you know it won’t be from lack of effort on my end.”

“True. Oh, Nami-swan told me the other day you don’t eat bread. Is it a gluten thing, or…?”

“Nah—just don’t like it. I physically can eat it, but just haven’t wanted to for a while now.”

“Not since home?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, good, because I remember you eating breaded things the last few times you were over, but I have a special coating I can use if it’s a gluten issue.”

“Nope—just a preference.” Law sipped his coffee and watched the other man work, his hands nimble as he prepped and cooked. It reminded him of himself at his own craft, in a way, mesmerizing him until he felt a pair of arms warp around his midsection from behind. “Luffy tamed?”

“For the time being,” Nami murmured in his ear. “He’s going to be a handful next week when his brothers are over.”

“Not entirely sure how you do it,” he admitted. “Then again, I don’t know how any of you do it.”

“Luff just has that magnetism, you know?” Sanji chuckled. “When we’re all together, it’s because he knows we need to be in order to move forward. It’s why we’ve even got old-timers with us, as you know.”

“Nami, your friends are childish.”

“People wonder why I don’t date boys,” she replied. “That would just set both parties up for disappointment.”

“How true your words are, Nami-swan,” Sanji crooned. “We are all but mere amateurs compared to your beauty and grace. The fact you decide to honor us with your presence is more than we deserve.”

Fuck… to be that idiotically horny again. Law tried to remember the last time he said anything as stupid as the heart-eyed cook and, to be honest, couldn’t remember anything of the like. Seas… was he really that old…? No, he decided… just… busy during those years. He would take busy… as though busy was having an impact on him now…

“Sanji-kun,” Nami said sweetly, “I’m going to bring Torao upstairs for a little discussion before dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

“As you wish, Nami-swa~a~n,” the blond swooned. He blew her a kiss as she winked and pulled Law onto his feet.

This place was so fucking weird.

Heading up the stairs, Law silently followed Nami as she led him through the house he was already strikingly familiar with. They slipped into her room and she locked the door behind them. Finally—peace and quiet.

“Don’t you think you were a little rough on Blackleg-ya?” he asked as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I only meant it as a joke…”

“Don’t you worry about Sanji-kun,” she hummed, pressing kisses along his neck and collarbone as her fingers went over his toned abdomen. She guided him down to his knees before sitting on the edge of the mattress. With his hat long-forgotten in the living room, she was able to gently card her fingers through his fluffy hair as he turned his attention to her legs. He gently massaged her calves with his expert hands, wandering up her thighs. He went under the hem of her skirt and his eyebrows rose at what he discovered.

“Nothing…?” he smirked. “Naughty.” He lifted her leg to hook her knee on his shoulder before slowly tracing a line of his own kisses down her inner thigh and towards her hot, wet core. Hiking her skirt a bit higher, she let her other leg fall a bit more to the side, opening up for him. He lapped at her experimentally, smiling smugly at the noise she made.

“Fuck me good, Law-kun,” she ordered. “Make him hear me scream.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was quarter past four in the morning before Law actually left the house at 1000 Sunny Road, dragging his ass into his car and wishing it was quieter as he pulled away. The only consolations to his pre-dawn walk of shame was that he slipped out when all the other Straw Hats sans Nami were asleep and that he could still taste his girlfriend the entire drive back. She had seen him out after some additional, varied rounds in her bedroom, kissing him through the open car window.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” she had smirked. Fuck… she had him on a leash and they both knew it. Her taste had almost faded by the time he pulled into the driveway at his dad’s. He killed the engine and leaned back against the seat—a few hours of sleep and he could be back into something of a normal rhythm for when he went on day shifts the following week. It was all he could do to haul himself out the car and into the house, blaming his exhaustion on the twenty hour ER shift from hell messing with him and not his girlfriend fucking his brains out.

As Law walked through the dimly-lit house, he heard a snore come from the living room. He took a peek and saw Cora-san laying on the floor again, having passed out after some sort of fall. Again. Law hefted the other man onto his shoulder and helped him up the stairs to the main bedroom, where he deposited him on the mattress with little fanfare.

Wait a second… were those bite marks…? He looked closer at the bit of Cora-san’s chest that was exposed—buttons undone while his tie hung loose around his neck—and sure as shit, there were bite marks and smeared lipstick on both his chest and neck. It was a burnt-orange, which was definitely not a color that was in the house, lending credence to the “hot date” theory as much as Law shuddered at the thought.

He left a container of salve on the nightstand and made sure the other man was at least fully on the bed before going to sleep himself—with any luck, he wouldn’t have to hear a thing about the date and they continue on with their lives in peace. The less he could think about his father and sex, the better things were going to be.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So… this old man you’re fucking… he at least cute in some weird geriatric way?”

“Ugh, what has Usopp been telling you?” Nami groaned. Her sister Nojiko chuckled at her from across the table, drinking her tea smugly. One of her rare mornings home and she was already being grilled. It was too early for this shit. “I’m not fucking an old man. He is in his twenties, thank you.”

“Turning thirty next month, is he?”

“He is twenty-six, for your information. He just looks a little rough because he’s got tattoos and is already a surgeon. Med school, clinical rotations, and residency are all vampires.”

“Sounds fishy to me,” Nojiko frowned. “I can’t be worrying after both you and Bell-mère now.”

“Bell-mère is a lesbian who just started reconnecting with an old flame from her Marine days,” Nami reasoned. “The circumstances are completely different.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sis,” Nojiko teased. “I still have on great confidence that he’s older than dirt, and that’s despite the fact you hang out with a man so old he’s a skeleton.”

“I am going to kill Usopp!”

“It wasn’t Usopp…”

“Who the fuck are you talking to behind my back?!”

It was then that their adoptive mother shuffled into the room, still half-asleep from the looks of things.

“I was woken by the sound of mockery; show me the object of ridicule,” Bell-mère grunted. She looked at her daughters and knew instantly what was going on. “We calling out the Old Man Fucker for what she is?”

“BELL-MÈRE!”

“Honey, if you’re planning on becoming a young widow, then at least make sure he’s loaded first,” Bell-mère said, unfazed by her youngest’s ire. She poked her head in the refrigerator and frowned. “Nojiko, sweetie, did you get more milk?”

“Haven’t been to the store yet,” her elder daughter said idly. “Will take care of it on my way back from work.”

“Since we’re currently in the habit of wanting to know about each other’s love lives,” Nami growled through grit teeth, “how’s Cora? That was your date’s name from when you went out the other night, eh?”

“That tongue still knows its way around a clit, let me tell you,” Bell-mère grinned devilishly. Both her daughters grew pale at the admission and immediately excused themselves from the table, neither in the mood for the conversation to go from zero to a hundred in less than a sentence.

Fine—ask about details, then run away at the details. Bell-mère chomped on dry cereal and wondered how she got two prudes for daughters.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Please don’t embarrass me more than they already do,” Law warned. He had his three best friends piled into his sensible, bright yellow crossover—Polar Tang—in the middle of making the huge mistake of driving them to the Straw Hats’ lair on a Saturday morning. They were already on the freeway, headed from the city towards the outer suburbs.

“We get it, we get it: you’re in it for the tight-ass pussy,” Shachi scoffed from the back seat. Penguin hit his shoulder in jest.

“If he was in it for just pussy, he wouldn’t be bringing us to the weirdo, sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere he goes to get said pussy in,” the other backseat gremlin said, tone rather matter-of-fact. “We’re a nurse and a couple of techs—how would we be embarrassing to a surgeon?”

“By talking about pussy the entire time,” Bepo stated flatly. He looked at Law and saw his grip on the steering wheel was unusually clenched. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No… I just need to remember this conversation for the next time I get asked why those two don’t just bite the bullet and get full nursing degrees instead of being the most overqualified nursing techs in the East Blue.”

“This,” Shachi said, pointing at himself with the first two fingers on both hands, “being able to sign off on patient care-related shit, would be dangerous and you know it.”

“It’s best for everyone involved that we stay Bepo’s gofers, because that makes us available as your gofers, and if we suddenly have to worry about shit like responsibilities, then where would you be?”

“Able to have competence on all my shifts?” Law snarked.

While tuning out the indignant protests in the back seat, Law turned off the freeway and headed towards Foosha Township, where Sunny Road was located. It was generally a tranquil road, with clusters of houses now and then to breakup wooded areas and the occasional farm. The car was thankfully quiet as he turned down a wooded drive, with Penguin breaking the silence as the conspicuously large house came into view.

“Law? Is this Straw Hat kid, like, loaded?”

“I don’t ask, so you don’t ask,” Law sighed. He parked the car on the front lawn next to Franky’s turquoise muscle car and turned to fully glare at the hooligans in the backseat. “Strawhat-ya’s not fully legit, but I don’t think he’s technically breaking any laws, and the cops here like him for some reason, so don’t fuck it up.”

“I thought you said the kid’s nineteen,” Penguin frowned. “How are you not wholly-legit at nineteen?!”

“Like I said: don’t ask.” Law then unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the Tang, getting some cloth shopping bags and his backpack from the trunk before heading around to the back of the house. It was just Luffy and his brothers there, all three splashing about in the shallow end of the pool while wearing arm floaties and inner tubes.

“TORAO!” Luffy squealed in delight. He jumped out of the pool and ran towards the surgeon—floatation devices and all—who got a sopping wet hug whether he liked it or not. “I was hoping that you’d come over today! Ace and Sabo are here! And Auncle Iva’s coming later! Grunkle Rayleigh can’t though because Grauntie Shakky made him promise something, and…”

“Strawhat-ya, I want you to meet the friends I was telling you about,” Law said, turning so that Luffy could get a good look at them. “That’s Penguin and Shachi, they’re nursing techs on my floor, and Bepo there’s one of the floor and hospital’s best charge nurses. We’ve known each other for ages.”

“Any friend of Torao’s a friend of mine!” Luffy grinned. He wrapped the two techs in a noodly hug, making them gurgle. “Oh! Yeah! Ace! Sabo! Say hi to Torao and his friends!”

“Luff, you’re going to kill them with affection,” Ace smirked.

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed with a laugh. “I don’t think we have enough space to bury more bodies in the backyard.”

“Please tell me that was a joke,” Shachi squeaked.

Law opted to not respond to that and instead left Penguin and Shachi in Luffy’s clutches while he and Bepo brought the bags in. Sanji was already in the kitchen prepping, while Usopp, Franky, and Brook played a racing game on the television.

“Did you get the goods?” the chef asked, pointing at Law with a knife. Law put one of the bags down and pulled out a bag of white powder covered in Wanolese script, which he threw at the man.

“I feel like I just watched a drug deal,” Bepo deadpanned.

“Even better than drugs,” Sanji claimed. “I don’t use a lot of it, but I’m practicing dishes from Wano for whenever it is Luff makes good on his threat to temporarily kidnap the consul’s son again.”

“Say the word ‘borrow’; it’s less incriminating,” Usopp shouted from the living room, not even taking his eyes off the game once.

“It’s just MSG,” Law shrugged.

“Yeah, but the good shit,” Sanji emphasized. He helped Law and Bepo unpack the rest of the bags and put everything away—odds and ends that weren’t of much consequence, but would be dangerous if missing later. “Nami-swan’s with Robin-chan picking Chopper up from school, by the way. They won’t be in until after lunch.”

That made Law’s eyebrows raise. “Sakura U is in Drum County. Four hours just driving round-trip.”

“Yeah, I know; I helped move the kid in freshman year.”

“Nami never volunteers to go get Chopper… unless…”

“Sounds like her mom’s getting some speecy-spicy dating action this week and she doesn’t want to hear about it,” Franky laughed. “I give the woman credit; she’s super feisty.”

“My dad just started dating again too—I get it,” Law said. “There are just some things you don’t want to hear… or learn… or think about…”

“If my old geezer started dating again, I’d die,” Sanji admitted with a shudder.

“Saaaame,” Usopp chimed in. The race ended and the teen groaned. “Brook! You are literally older than video games themselves! How did you beat me?!”

“I guess I’m a gamer down to my bones… which is all of me!” Brook cackled. “Law’s friend! Would you like to join us for the next round?”

“Uh… sure…” Bepo said warily. He sat down next to Usopp and accepted the fourth controller. “Are there any bear characters?”

As Usopp explained the game mechanics to Bepo, Law took his backpack up to Nami’s room and began to set himself up for later that night. He took care of the shit like condoms and lube because he wasn’t a goddamned barbarian and didn’t want his girlfriend to get worried if in the chaos of everything she forgot her medication for a couple days. It was just part of being a responsible adult and not some skeezebag looking to fuck how he wanted and whom he wanted without thinking about repercussions. The thought of a physical consequence crossed his mind as he shut the nightstand drawer and shuddered—Cora-san as a grandfather of all things would be something he’d need more than a few months to brace for.

“Law, there you are, holy shit.” He looked over his shoulder to see Penguin and Shachi both standing there, looking precisely the amount of moist that would be appropriate if they had been dragged into the pool against their will. Not only that, but they appeared to be absolutely flabbergasted by the entire situation they found themselves in. “That’s the second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army in the pool… the national-level political party, not state-level!”

“I know, Penguin.”

“…and the other’s one of the lieutenants of the Moby City mayor!”

“I know, Shachi.”

“…and apparently the host of Impel Drag Race is ‘popping by’ later?!”

“…and the straw-hat kid’s referring to the former state lieutenant governor as his grunkle?!”

“…and the one in the kitchen you had us go to six specialty import stores for is sous chef and heir to the Baratie?!”

“…and apparently your girlfriend is currently on a fetch quest to haul over here one of the few who can out-prodigy you when it comes to medicine?!”

“…a kid, may I remind you, whose grandparents are part of the reason why we even have world-class medicine in Greater Logue Town, let alone the state?!”

“…and Bepo’s getting his ass handed to him in video games by the Soul King himself…?!”

“I get it: we stick out the least despite the fact you two hold multiple state-level swimming records each, I’m the youngest surgeon in all departments at Logue Town General by at least a decade, and Bepo’s a bear,” Law reminded them casually. “To consider this as anything close to a normal party house is sort of a disgrace to the very concept of a party house.”

“This place is batshit,” Penguin stated. “It also might break physics because it feels like it’s bigger on the inside.”

“That’s your crisis to work through, not mine,” Law said. He reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out two single wrapped condoms, throwing them at his friends. “Be careful; if Hancock-ya shows up tonight, she’s going to bring the whole team, and I know how strong of a will you two have in front of a pretty face and thick thighs.”

“Wait, what…?” Shachi gaped. Law shrugged.

“The captain of the Amazon Lily roller derby team out of Kuja has a weird crush on Strawhat-ya that he doesn’t quite recognize and when she’s here, the entire team is here.”

“Law, have we ever expressed how much we truly appreciate your friendship?” Penguin said, his and Shachi’s demeanor clearly changed. They were in such awe that tears were beginning to well in their eyes. “This could honestly be the best night of our lives!”

“Step-on-me-pussy is literally the best pussy,” Shachi added with a sniffle. “We are in your debt.”

“Remember that next time I need changed dressings, blood draws, and vitals from everyone in the unit half an hour before shift change,” Law warned. His friends didn’t hear him—they were too busy imagining the possibilities for later on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What does it say about everything that you still don’t strike me as an adopt-into-single-fatherhood sort of man?” Bell-mère asked. She was at Cora’s for the evening, glad that the mysterious kid of his was gone with friends for the weekend. Picking up a picture frame from an end table, she looked at the image of her former comrade-in-arms hugging a sullen tween with Reverse Mountain National Park in the background. “Cute kid though.”

“Yeah, that’s from not long after I became his official guardian,” Cora said from the kitchen. “He was sick when I got him—didn’t think he’d make it past thirteen.”

“No shit. Now you said he’s in his twenties?”

“Yeah—went into medicine; his birth family was full of doctors and I think he wants to honor them that way. Works at Logue Town General and everything.”

“Who knows? He might know my youngest daughter’s beau.” Bell-mère went into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching Cora cook on the electric range—the only reason he wasn’t spontaneously bursting into flame while cooking their dinner. “She’s fucking some doctor who’s got to be closer to our age than hers if the intel we get from her friends is anything.”

“Possibly, though there’s a lot of doctors in LTG.”

“True.” She watched as he splashed some sauce on himself accidentally. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure,” he winced. “So, what about you? Still never gave me an answer about the girls.”

“Something just clicked in my brain, you know?” she shrugged, taking it upon herself to pour the wine instead. “I’m sure you had a moment like that with your son.”

“Yeah, but Bell-mère the Beast? Adopting two little orphans while out on deployment?”

“You blew your cover on a covert job when you left, and the only reason you’re not dead is because it involved infiltrating your brother’s criminal empire and you both are worth more to him alive and unperturbed.”

“Technicalities,” Cora scoffed. He brought two plates of food to the table and sat down. “Things are still a little frosty between Sengoku and me for it, but I’d do it all over again and I’m sure you feel the same.”

“Beyond a doubt.” She ate some of the rice on her plate and chuckled. “At least fatherhood made you a decent home cook.”

“I’ll show you what else I’m still decent at after dessert,” he teased. She snorted in laughter—of course he would, because of course he was.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late that night as Law and Nami both laid in bed, curled up together with their naked bodies flush against one another. The house was finally quiet and they could both just relax—a rare treat for the place they were currently occupying.

“Hey… Nami…?” He could feel her smile against his chest at the dropped honorific; something he did only when they were alone.

“Yeah…?”

“Is this… what you want…?”

She sat up and stared at him, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow in a curious arch. “What do you mean by that?”

“Having the extent of our relationship being sneaking off to fuck in the middle of a house party?” He tried to shrug aloofly, but was too taken in by the sight of her in the moonlight to do more than twitch. “Would you like to be… I dunno… more involved…?”

“Depends on your definition,” she replied. She hugged her knees as she looked at him, the very sexy and very naked man in her bed bringing a tattooed arm up in order to rub circles on her back.

“Seeing one another without any of our friends needing to be there,” he mused. “Showing up at one another’s workplaces as a surprise, meeting my dad… your mom and sister…” He exhaled heavily, avoiding eye contact by staring at her shoulder tattoo. “I’m not saying commitment, but…”

“I get it; you want to know what’s on the table, if you need to keep future options in mind.”

“I guess.” He paused, trying to find the words. “I don’t mind if we’re a temporary thing…”

“You can say ‘fling’. I won’t be insulted.”

“Okay, fine: I don’t care if this is a fling and we drift apart or we’re actually friends with damn good benefits or I’m just what you’re into for now and you drop me like a rock next month. I mean… I’m getting sex out of it… sex with you…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she reminded him, patting the bit of blanket covering his dick. “This is working for more than just you, trust me.”

“What I’m saying is…” he swallowed hard, “if you’d like, I’m willing to start exploring what a life together might be like.”

“See if we like what’s being laid down?”

“Pretty much. We’d need to meet each other’s parents first—hiding you from my dad any longer than I have to will be torture.”

“Well, I’ve never tried the meet-the-parents routine with anyone except for friends, so if you want to try, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

A small smile twisted the corner of his mouth upwards. “Yeah…?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Law exhaled, only then he realized he had been holding his breath. “Okay. We can do this…? We can do this. I mean, we’re adults.”

“We are.” She then laid back down, settling herself between his arm and his chest. “Let’s talk about it more after some sleep. Then I’ll tell my mom when I get home.”

“…and I’ll tell Cora-san.”

“Wait…” she giggled incredulously. “Your dad’s name is Cora?”

“It’s an old nickname,” he grumbled, “but it is what he prefers to be called. I’ll break that down for you later as well.”

“No, it’s just funny because that’s the name of the woman my mom’s dating. Sorting through the Two Cora Situation is going to be a group bonding exercise in of itself.”

“I guess so.” He closed his eyes as he felt Nami bring the blankets around them again, taking in the wonderful silence of the night.

Well, it was silent for people without really good hearing, as he could have sworn he heard Shachi sob through an orgasm in another room. Only his friends could ruin a moment and not even be there.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The following morning went the average amount of well an after-party morning could go. Most of the house denizens were some version of worn-out thanks to either staying up late, copious amounts of alcohol, or both. The pair of Kuja that stayed the night with Penguin and Shachi both left early—Law had still been on his first cup of coffee when they did—dragging along the smitten Hancock with them. The surgeon watched as his friends found their way into the back by the pool, plopping down at the little table next to him as he scrolled through news headlines on his phone.

“You’ve been holding out,” Penguin scolded.

“Yeah,” Shachi said, expression to be too relaxed to be anything but blissful. “We got them on social and everything. What took you so long to bring us here?”

Law shrugged through his coffee, which his friends refused to accept for an answer. They both glared at him, waiting for whole minutes until he cracked.

“I wanted to make sure of it… you know.” He contemplated his next sentence, thought better of it, and went through with it anyhow. “I’m having her meet Cora-san.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shachi cringed. “That’s… that’s a hell of a step for you.”

“The number of people that have both met your dad and seen your dick is extremely small, and the list even exists in the first place purely due to changing rooms and nothing sexual,” Penguin noted.

“Yeah, you think I don’t realize that?” Law fired back. “Nami-ya and me, Cora-san and his… lady-friend I’m surprised actually exists, and Nami-ya’s mom with her lady-friend—just going to tear the bandage off and get us all together.”

Shachi let out a low whistle. “Oooh… you got it bad.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Law grunted. “I’m putting up with Strawhat-ya to be with her, so might as well.”

It was then that Luffy, almost if on-cue, ran out of the house and did a cannonball into the pool, splashing water all over Law, but not Penguin and Shachi. The latter two tried to hide their giggles as a now-familiar shishishi echoed through the yard.

Yeah, he had it bad alright.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, it didn’t take long for Law to get a hold of everyone’s schedules. After looking at the family calendar and swiping her mother’s phone while she was in the shower, Nami was able to confirm that three weeks from that Tuesday worked well. He felt a sense of triumph as they coordinated the event, all the way down to the thumbs-up emojis that were sent his way when she asked her mom to join them.

Now, for the big one. It was luckily Law’s turn to make dinner that Monday, which meant that he was able to have everything ready by the time Cora-san came home from work. The older man raised an eyebrow when he saw his son in the kitchen with food nearly ready.

“Anything the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong; just sit.” Cora did and Law brought over two plates of carbonara. “I just want a nice dinner for once.”

“Not complaining,” Cora nodded. He twirled some pasta on his fork and took a large bite, proceeding to talk with his mouth full. “So… you gonna tell me what this is about…?”

Fuck, busted.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to listen to me and not get too excited,” Law frowned. Cora perked up, his attention piqued. “Since we’re both dating someone…”

“…yeah…?”

“I thought it would be nice if we took a very non-committal step to clear the air and all meet one another.” Sparkles formed in the older man’s eyes and Law almost instantly regretted it. “She’s inviting her mom and mom’s girlfriend, while I’m supposed to invite you and… whatever it is that you consider a hot date. You know… be adults.”

“A triple date! How social of you! This young lady of yours must be doing wonders for your tolerance levels!” A thought then came to Cora and he instantly grew serious. “The crew isn’t jealous, are they?”

“Shachi and Penguin were both ‘stepped on’ by tri-state roller derby champions over the weekend and Bepo has decided that he’s determined to mentor this kid who we hang around now so he also doesn’t get the life sucked out of him by being a teenager in med school.”

“Then they approve! Excellent! Let the appropriate parties know and we can set up a day and time! Oh, this will be fun!”

“I was thinking three weeks from tomorrow, at a place near the hospital so it can be for lunch. We double-checked your schedules.”

“Not a dinner-date here…?”

“No, because I want to keep your shenanigans to a minimum, and that’s usually achievable when you’re trapped in a booth seat.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he admitted. “I’ll pass the word along tonight.”

“Thanks—let me know if anything comes up.”

“Oh, not a problem.” Cora couldn’t stop his wide smile as he looked at his son across the table. “You’ve come a long way, you know.”

“Yeah,” he blushed, “I know.”

“They’d be proud.”

“I know.”

“Now: does this mean I’m getting grandkids?”

It honestly took all Law had to not fling pasta in Cora’s face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, Cora found himself having his final smoke of the evening before turning in for bed. Law was already asleep—kid’s circadian rhythm had always been fucked—and that meant that Cora was able to take his cigarette on the patio in peace without hearing his boy nag him about emphysema and other such things. He was nearly done when his phone buzzed: The Beast.

“Hey,” he answered, applying a suave tone to his voice.

“You said you wanted to talk about something?” Bell-mère asked. The text was actually a request to call when she was free, but he wasn’t complaining. “Is this about phone sex? Because I am actually in the mood for some phone sex…”

“We can do that later—there is something I want to get out of the way first.”

“Who’s dying?”

“No one,” Cora said cheerily. He stubbed out the cigarette and made his way back into the house. “It’s just my boy’s decided to coordinate something between us, so we can meet his girlfriend and her mom and mom’s girlfriend!”

“A triple date? With mostly people he doesn’t know? Kind of a lot for a kid that only tolerates hanging out with three people aside from his girlfriend.”

“Well, rumor has it that he met her at a party, and he tolerates her friends, so who knows?” Cora was beaming brightly as he looked at himself in the mirror next to the door—this was the sort of thing that was a rite of passage, wasn’t it? Meeting your kid’s significant other? Her mom? Oh, it was exciting! Was this a sign something more was on the horizon?! “He was thinking of going and doing something low-key: lunch at this restaurant that’s near the hospital.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “…Don Silver?”

“Yeah! I guess he and his friends go there during and after shifts a lot. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need a reservation, but he’s asking them to set aside a table for us anyhow since he’s such a good regular.” Cora then paused, expression falling “How did you know?”

“My daughter wants us to meet her old-man-doctor-boyfriend, his dad, and dad’s girlfriend for lunch there. Tuesday at one?”

“…oh.”

Both Cora and Bell-mère were silent—no… it couldn’t be…

“Belle…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Did she tell you what the reservation was under…?”

“Her old-man-doctor-boyfriend’s name, but it’s not Donquixote…”

“I never gave him my family name, Belle. The adoption papers went through too slow for it to take effect before he started med school, even if he wanted to change it.”

“It’s a weird name, hold on, she wrote it down for me…” He heard a rustling of paper and then her grunting as she attempted to figure out how to pronounce it. “Tra… Tra-faye-el-gar?”

“Trafalgar; my son’s family name is Trafalgar.”

“Huh.” Cora began to chew at his fingernails and pace the kitchen as his mind began to race and the woman on the other end contemplated. He then began to pace and tug at his hair.

“Belle…?”

Nothing.

“Belle, answer me.”

Silence.

“Belle…?!”

“So,” she chuckled, “wanna fuck with ‘em?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Don Silver was a well-patronized family restaurant within walking distance of Logue Town General, which made it the perfect location for Law to slip out to during his shift, but also to slip back in should an emergency arise. He left Bepo in charge of his patients until he came back, promising to stay late if he was out so long it threw everything off. When he walked into the restaurant, the owner simply gestured to the usual back booth he normally haunted with his friends, seeing that Nami was already there.

“Ah, there you are,” she chuckled, exchanging a quick peck as he sat down next to her. “Everything seems like it’s going as planned. Nojiko was a little irritated that she wasn’t invited, but she’ll get her chance.”

“Yeah, she will,” he agreed. Law felt as though his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I know… kind of exciting, isn’t it?” She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the back of his jaw, smiling as she saw how confused the owner was at the scene. “I should have you know that you might not be on the list of favorites after this.”

“Your mom that big of a menace?”

“More like Gin over there and Sanji have had beef since culinary school,” she chuckled. Law caught that the owner was staring at them and he shrugged—how could he have known? “Oh, hey, there’s Bell-mère!”

“…and that’s Cora-san,” Law noted. He watched has his foster father held open the door for Nami’s mother. “Wait a second… where’s their dates…?”

“That is… huh…” Nami trailed off as Cora and Bell-mère made their way to the table. Both parents decided to slide directly into the booth seating, with the leggy, clumsy one on the inside. “Do we need to wait for the others, or…?”

“There’s no others; what are you talking about?” Bell-mère scoffed. A waiter came over to deposit some glasses of water—a handled mug for Cora, as they were warned beforehand—and battered menus, leaving the four to their own devices for the time being. “It’s just us and our manfriends, although I’m honestly impressed you went as old as you did considering mine’s just a year younger than me…”

“Nojiko and I have been under the impression you’ve been seeing a woman named Cora…”

“Short for Corazón,” Bell-mère shrugged. “That was your codename out in the field, right hon?”

“It was, wasn’t it, Law?” Cora smirked. He tried very hard to not notice the deep sense of confusion his son was radiating. “You’ve been here a lot; what’s good?”

After some awkward deliberation, the waiter came back and took their orders and the menus while depositing a breadbasket. A silence settled over the table once the waiter left, one that made the younger couple hold hands underneath the table for strength, while the older couple decided to put their plan into action.

Operation Fuck with the Brats was a-go.

“We want to thank both of you for meeting us like this,” Cora said seriously, deciding to be the one to break the ice. He nearly couldn’t stop himself from bursting into laughter as he watched panic settle in on his son’s face. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing we want to talk about when I’m liable to trip while wandering around the house.”

“What…?” Nami wondered, cocking her eyebrow.

“Man’s a complete klutz,” Bell-mère said before Law could explain. “Let’s just hope it’s not inheritable.”

All the color left Nami and Law’s faces at once.

“What… erm… do you mean by that…?” the younger woman asked. Bell-mère shrugged.

“Eh, just putting shit down in the right places,” she replied. “Should’ve done it years ago, but never had the reason, until now…”

“Cora-san…? What is she talking about…?” Law asked, his voice faint. His foster father grinned widely.

“We wanted you two to be our Best Man and Maid of Honor!” he beamed. “You’d be perfect for the job! It doesn’t even get into being Emergency Guardians…”

“Oh I’m going to be sick,” Nami grimaced.

“Don’t you dare, you little shit,” Bell-mère warned. “I would think it’d be an honor. You did always want to be an older sister growing up.”

“…and we’re already on the older side for a baby, so having their older siblings be the ones to take care of them in case we can’t is perfect!”

Law sank into the booth, completely dumbstruck. Cora-san…?! And Nami’s mom…?! He was almost regretting not making this meeting at the Southern Blue pub down the street—at least they had a liquor license. “Does Doflamingo know about this…?”

“My brother wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if he had one walk in his front door,” Cora scoffed. “I know because I watched it happen. Multiple times.” The mortification on the younger couple’s faces was definitely worth the ruse; the kids seemed to be inventing new stages of grief. “Speaking of front doors—Bell-mère’s moving in since there’s more room, so you have the choice of staying in your current room or out elsewhere.”

“Nami, you and Nojiko get to fight it out over what to do with where we’re at now,” Bell-mère added. “Just don’t rent it out to any of your weirdo friends—I’d like the place to stay intact, thank you.”

“You have to be fucking with us,” Nami decided. She dug into her purse and whipped out her phone. “I’m calling Nojiko.”

“Go ahead, be that way,” Bell-mère said. She watched as Nami hit the button to dial her sister and held the phone up to her ear.

“So…? How’s it going…?” Ah, fuck, she sounded too smug.

“Nojiko, did you know anything about this?”

“…about what…?”

“…about why the hell our mom decided to meet my boyfriend so easily…”

“Ooohhhh, that,” Nojiko replied, a grin on her voice. “Yeah, she should have told us that her kinky reconnect was a dude before she got herself all prego. She offered me Maid of Honor first, but I said you can have it since you’d actually want to sleep with the geriatric Best Man…”

“I fucking hate you all,” Nami said before ending the call. She put her phone screen-down on the table and glared at her mother. “You are absolutely mortifying.”

“I am what I am,” Bell-mère shrugged. She then wrinkled her nose and looked at Cora with a frown. “Oh… the kid’s gonna be a Donquixote, isn’t it…?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Then how do you suggest we tell your brother? Ease him in gently or just let him discover on his own?”

“I honestly don’t know which would be worse.”

“Your brother—that’s up to you. Oh! Food’s here!”

Sure enough Bell-mère did notice their food coming out the kitchen as the waiter dropped off the plates cheerily. Both Law and Nami really didn’t feel like eating anymore, while their parents both began to pick at their fries…

…and laughed.

“Ah, fuck, we really had you going!” Bell-mère snorted.

“Your faces are priceless,” Cora added.

“So… you’re not having a baby…” Nami stated.

“…and you’re not getting married,” Law continued.

“Tch; don’t think I’m ready to settle down quite yet,” Bell-mère scoffed. “Besides, this klutzy nightmare? Fuck baby-proofing—I’d have to Rosi-proof.”

“Then you’re not seeing one another…?” Law knew it was dangerous to be hopeful. He was anyhow, only for his hopes to be dashed against the floor unceremoniously like a slippery water glass.

“Sorry to burst that bubble, kids, but I am one-hundred-percent fucking this goober despite all logic and reasoning telling me that I probably shouldn’t,” Bell-mère shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d be with a man again after we last hooked up in the Marines, but I have to admit he’s improved with age.”

“Belle…” Cora giggled, blushing furiously. “That’s still my son and his cute girlfriend…”

“…and that’s my daughter and her geriatric manfriend,” she replied. “They’re adults; I think they can handle it.”

To be honest? Neither Law nor Nami wanted anything to do with anything at that very moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was actually a fucking gorgeous day as Law laid face-down on the grass in the backyard at 1000 Sunny Drive. He hadn’t thought it was particularly appropriate to show his face at Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere after what had happened earlier in the week, but Bepo and the goons insisted. While the bear chatted amiably with Chopper and Kaya (how the fuck did Usopp of all the kids got himself a girlfriend? That he wasn’t having sex with yet? No one really knew), Penguin and Shachi were biding their time before the Amazons Lilys showed up (and let’s be real: the nursing techs knew they were the lay-conquest), while Law… he was just trying to not die of embarrassment.

“So…” a voice said, almost consolingly. “You fucked your sister.”

“She is not my sister, Roronoa-ya,” Law replied. He didn’t need to look to see the kendo genius standing there, nor that it was the chef who nudged him in the side with his foot.

“Well, your parents fucked before you did, so that makes you siblings.”

“That does not make them siblings, mossbrain,” Sanji scoffed. “Come on, Law. What do you think you’re going to achieve by doing all this sulking?”

“I’m touching grass; go away.”

“I don’t think that’s what they mean, but keep telling yourself that. Besides, you know the marimo never learned about sex-ed, birds or bees. I bet his old man would have reproduced via budding if he could and skipped the adoption paperwork.”

“Yours probably wishes he could bake himself a less pervy son.”

“Fuck off, you overgrown grass stain,” Sanji hissed.

“You realize none of this is helping, right?” Law said into the lawn.

“Eh; worth a shot.” Law heard Sanji flick open his lighter and the familiar smell of cigarettes hit his nose—the man smoked the same brand as Cora.

“Get away from him, you vultures,” scolded a very familiar voice. Zoro chuckled lowly as Sanji pulled him away. Once the clowns had dispersed, Nami sat down on the grass and sighed, hugging her knees.

“I blame Bell-mère for getting Nojiko in on it,” she reminded him. “She’s the reason any of these morons know anything… well, that and Sanji not having Gin blocked on social.”

“I know—it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.”

“True, but it does mean that we’re probably going to spend holidays together at the very least, whether we’re fucking or not.” She reached over and began scratching his scalp, eliciting a heavy whine. “Look at it this way: they could have not been joking.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still happen,” he replied. “Pregnancy can occur all the way until post-menopause, and many are accidental.”

“Shhhh…” she soothed, smoothing his hair. “Don’t think about it.”

All he could do was squeak out a pained groan—he was a doctor… all he could do was think about it.

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