#made tiny edits oop

[rukidokie]

Mornings

[library-whale]

Listen, I could draw Parker angst considering all the incinerations he just witnessed last season....

...but please consider this mental image that popped into my head after I looked at his vibes and fielding position. This man’s just chilling in the highfield half the time, peeling grass and looking at neat bugs.

[kazzattack]

Pretty, pretty girl…

Dick Grayson x Black fem!reader x Jason Todd, w/c 2.6k

Synopsis;; You attend one of Bruce Wayne’s galas with your father, for the pure pleasure of seeing the infamous Wayne brothers, and end up being snuck into the manor for the night.

content;; 18+, threesome, oral (fem receiving, implied male receiving), face fucking (male receiving), brief chokehold, hair pulling, fingering, finger sucking, eye contact, lots of banter, technically mirror sex (bc I lowk forgot about the mirror oops), light degradation (whore, slut), brief dry humping, doggy style, manhandling (?), spanking for 2 seconds, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart), Jason’s a bit of a meanie, and Dick is… Dick, I think that’s it, poorly edited/proof read

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” you begin to mutter, frustrated that you agreed to attend in the first place. Still, you find the will power to put on your prettiest smile and runway worthy strut.

Functions likes these never served any entertainment for you, nor did you get anything out of it. Galas your father attends for the sole purpose of saving face, surrounded by rich scum and snakes. At least this is Bruce Wayne’s gala. One of the only billionaires you find tolerable. The only people worth going for are those Wayne boys, though. Pure eye candy. You couldn’t pick a favorite out of the two.

Dick Grayson’s the first to greet you, eyes darting up and down over your figure before meeting your eyes. “Hey pretty lady,” he sing-songs, friendly and welcoming despite the telling glint in his eyes. Wayne’s prodigal son, the first, and he definitely fits the title. Dick is almost surprisingly sweet, pouring you wine and complimenting the shiny gold jewelry around your wrists and neck, rather than the dress that rides just a bit high on your thighs when you sit in the chair he pulls out for you.

Jason Todd meets you with an unintentional death stare, bless his heart. Not to say you don’t do the same thing at first. If he wasn’t 6’1 and 200+ lbs of pure muscle stuffed into a red tux, he’d be easier to miss. At first you don’t even realize his connection to Dick, let alone Bruce Wayne, but you quickly take notice of the familial banter from afar. As of now, you two share the commonality of not really wanting to be here. The two of you only get the chance to properly speak thanks to the loud-mouthed brother, followed by the chance to subtly gawk at each other, of course.

The two of them, though most of the effort is through Dick, make most of the event fly by. You take part in shameless flirting with the leaner of the two, laugh a few times at Jason’s more snarky jabs, and before you know it? Your father’s left wondering where his daughter ran off to. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to tell him two out of many of Wayne’s kids are busy trying to sneak you into his manner.

The… guest bedroom? Is awfully large, along with the bed, and the nightstand, and the mirror you use to make eye contact with Dick. They’ve put you under the impression to have made it past the security system, but realistically they both know Bruce has been notified of your presence. They also trust the billionaire playboy will mind his business. And besides, the old man should be the least of your worries when Dick tugs your dress up, followed by Jason’s calloused hands running up your thighs.

“You’re shameless,” you tease, settling yourself between Dick’s legs with your back against his chest while Jason lowers his overwhelming stature in front of you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you haven’t seen the half of it,” he corrects, grabbing the tiny zipper between his fingertips to expose more skin. “Especially not from that one down there.”

Jason scoffs, sliding your heels off as he responds. “I’m almost positive she knows what you are. Hard not to.”

“I know what I am,” Dick snickers into your ear, hands snaking over your figure. “You’re the one who stomps around acting like you’re too high and mighty for a little fun.”

You muster up the courage to jump in, urging Jason to come a little closer to your face. Despite the persona, you’ve both warmed up to each other throughout the night. “You too good for me, Jay?” You inquire, tugging him closer by his collar and tie. The glint in his eyes answers for you, giving away every intention he has for the rest of tonight.

“‘M just shy,” he jokes, though you’re not 100% sure he is. After a few drinks and the comfort of a seperate room, his eyes wander more freely, and it doesn’t take long before you notice Grayson’s gawking at you through the mirror as he undresses. “Not that you’ve gotta worry about that anymore.”

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Jason was no longer shy, clearly.

“Oh my god, Jay-“ you moan above him, head resting on Dick’s shoulder as one hand roams around your upper body. The other curls under your knee, supposedly holding your legs open as opposed to closing around Jason’s head while his tongue flicks against your clit.

“Fuck, you sound gorgeous,” Dick whispers as he sucks another hickey into your collarbone, and you feel a smooth hand wrap around your neck and rest there. “You gonna make those pretty noises for me too?” His tone is sultry and teasing, though you aren’t sure if it’s meant to provoke you or the short-tempered brother between your legs. You haven’t spent that long with them, but it’s been long enough for you to learn of Jason’s competitive edge and Dick’s insufferable tendencies to get under his skin.

“You could always find out for yourself…” you manage to respond, circling your hips in time with the thick finger on your insides. The strength is found to pick your head up and look at Dick, who’s already watching you like a hawk. Eyes focused with an almost obsessive gaze, tongue grazing over your skin. You can tell he’s fixing his dirty mouth for a quip but you cut him off with a gasp as another finger is dipped into your cunt, breaking eye contact as your head falls back.

“Quit talking to him,” Jason grumbles into your heat, “just sit and look pretty like you were doin’.” His words are muffled and the bass in his voice vibrates against your leg, leaving no room for you to consider not listening to him. He’s sure you’d much rather listen to him after that debauched moan you let out anyway.

Your hand moves to tug on the white streak of Jason’s hair, blanking out for a moment as the tips of his fingers curl and thrust into you. “Aw, gonna let him ruin the fun?” Dick teases, “I still wanna look at that pretty face.” He fixes you after his comment flies over your head, gripping your jaw to face him in the mirror and letting go to see if you’ll focus on your own. Jason, still seemingly irritated with him, tightens his biceps around the plush of your thighs and pulls you further from Dick. He doesn’t like sharing either. Noted. You glance down at him, green eyes half lidded and entirely zoned in on your pussy. He doesn’t talk all that much, but he’s got his own filthy mouth, tongue dipping in with his fingers for a moment as his free hand circles your clit. This is where you learn that Dick has his own frustrations too. He needs control, power in his hands.

“No wonder you like her,” he grins, “she’s almost as hard-headed as you.” Through the hazy pleasure you giggle, not expecting the way his arm slots around your neck. There’s a gasp before a strangled moan and you clench around Jason’s fingers, hips bucking into his face and he groans into your pussy. You’re in a more compromised position now, and he’s looking you directly in the eyes while his free hand tweaks at your nipple, making you arch further away from him.

“Oh, the pretty lady likes this? You want it tighter?”

Shamelessly, you nod despite your restrictions and he listens, squeezing your head between his forearm and bicep. A familiar feeling coils in your tummy, pretty nails digging into the flesh around your neck as your leg wraps around Jason’s head. You’d feel bad if it weren’t for the needy groan against your cunt.

“Ohh, gonna come on his tongue from getting choked out? Yeah, let him know who you’re looking at while you fuck his face.”

Oh?

You’re ashamed of it, but the limited oxygen and lightheaded effect had you follow along without a thought.

“‘S you- fuck, Dick- I wanna…”

At this point, Dick’s sure he can see steam from Jason’s ears.

Still, his ministrations only go deeper, even if it’s not exactly of his free will. Thick nails dig deep into your hips and thighs to keep you in place as you orgasm and he helps you ride it out as he huffs and grunts. Meanwhile you’re right where Dick wants you, laying up against his chest and moaning against his forearm as if you were his bitch.

“Fuckin’ attention whore,” Jason sighs, easily moving your body further from Dick after practically yanking his arm from you. “Can’t go five minutes without begging for someone to look at you?” He’s clearly ticked off, but the frustration is also accompanied by the bulge of his dress pants pressing against your thigh. He hates the competition yet he undeniably craves it, and it’s clear in how much rougher his touches get. Jason moves to kiss up your body as his fingers curl at a slower pace, holding your hips in place to keep you from squirming underneath him.

“Jay-“ you sigh in bliss, hips trying to inch away as you sit up to look down at him. “Ja-son… ‘s too-“

“Shut up,” rude, “I know this pretty pussy’s beggin’ for it.”

“Struck a nerve? Sensitive much.” All he gets it a glare, rightfully so. You’d expect Dick Grayson to get in on more fun, but he’s just evil. He likes seeing a pretty girl like you squirm. Jason’s clearly more hands on, scissoring you open a few times before abruptly pulling away shoving his fingers down your throat. You’d be embarrassed by how easily you take it if the two of them weren’t mesmerized, watching while you suck his fingers clean of your own slick.

“We got us a pretty little slut, Jaybird,” Dick praises.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?”

“No, actually.”

“Well I am now, Dick.”

You get out a little giggle while they bicker before Jason flips you over, positioning your ass against his pelvis and guiding your hips back. You’d been too high in pleasure before to realize that Jason Todd is big, everywhere. His dick presses against you through his pants and you almost panic as he pushes you back and forth, watching your ass bounce against him a few times and you whine.

“Yeah, y’feel that?” He groans from behind you and only Dick can see the prideful grin on his face. “You’ll take it, baby, jus’ for me.” Still, you let out a little whine at his words and clench around nothing. What you can see is the bulge in front of you as your head rests between Dick’s legs, doesn’t look as big but it’s definitely enough. You have no right to complain.

Jason leans over to deepen your arch and you hear his belt unbuckle. You wanna tell him wait, but you’re too slow. The tip of his cock slips against your opening and you mewl, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Oh my god, Jay-“ you gasp before he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Fuck… what’d I tell you?” He grunts, already halfway inside. “Already so wet and you’re tellin’ me you don’t wanna get fucked?”

“Be nice,” Dick interrupts as his fingers curl into your hair gently, as if he didn’t have you moaning against his arm in a chokehold earlier tonight. He gets to be the nice one now, your handsome knight in shining armor. If that were entirely true, though, he wouldn’t be over so slightly forcing you back onto Jason’s cock with his other hand.

Dick’s order is easily disregarded once he’s all the way inside, and with a few thrusts, pulling all the way out before slamming you onto his cock, pretty nails are clawing at the fabric of Dick’s slacks and you muffle your moans into them with soft whines. “Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he hums from above you, cooing at you with a soft voice yet tugging your head up by the chin a little harshly to look at you.

“‘S big.. oh- fuck, Dick-“

“‘Scuse me?”

Oopsie.

“Now you’re in for it, doll.” The smile of amusement and lust on Dick’s face is almost demeaning.

“We got an ungrateful little slut,” Jason scowls, tugging so hard on your hair he might fuck it up if he doesn’t fuck you up first. His thrusts gain a brutal pace and he fucks you even deeper than before, leaning down to your face before he speaks again. “Here I am, face covered in your cum, fuckin this tight cunt with my cock and you’ve still got the nerve to be moanin’ for him? The fuck is he doing for you, huh? Tell me. Tell both of us.”

You can’t, even if you wanted to. Even if you could. Just from the close proximity, the way his dick hits that sweet spot harder and harder has you whimpering an incoherent apology and clenching around him. The only thing he can make out is the pathetic little “‘m sorry” as your hand moves to cover your face.

“Oh hell no,” he corrects you, grabbing your arm and folding it behind your back. You’re weaker than ever right now, no longer holding yourself up. In fact, Jason’s the one holding you, keeping you stable while he fucks the lights out of you.

“I think she wants it like this,” Dick chimes in, smiling like all you’re doing is putting on a show for him. Not that you mind, of course. You’re busy trying not to cry from the intensity, but you haven’t even realized your mascara’s been fucked up for a hot minute already.

“Yeah, you wanted this, right? Bet you thought you’d get it from that bastard,” Jason huffs a guttural laugh, “guess he shoulda told you about this thick dick.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, Jay- fuck, please,” you beg from beneath him, tightening around his dick as another orgasm has your moans higher pitched. “Wanna cum- lemme cum, Jason, please-!”

“Now you wanna moan my name?”

“Guess you fucked some sense into her.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Grayson.” The venom in his voice is for Dick, but unfortunately the anger gets taken out on you with a sharp smack on the ass and you yelp. “Give it to me,” he groans, “cum all over this cock.”

“Thank you- thank you, Jason-“

Your eyes roll, so far back you can see your skull as he fucks you throught it. You still babble on about how good he feels and he never lets up, focused on his own orgasm as he shoves your face into the mattress. Without another beat, he fucks you full, nasty fluids gushing around his cock as he finally calms down. You damn near back out, honestly, but distantly you can hear another belt buckle being undone.

“Y’done yet, Jaybird?”

“Not really,” he huffs through a deep groan, still rutting into you. “But go ahead. Just don’t piss me off again.” Dick fake pouts, pulling your face back up and you’re met with his length, throbbing and neglected.

“Wha…” you weakly moan, legs trembling and cunt twitching around Jason. Dick almost moans at the sight of your fucked out face, drool pooling at the corner of your lips and mascara smudged down your face. Still just as gorgeous, albeit more shameful than before. Dick can admit he prefers you with this look.

“We’ve still got plans for you, pretty girl,” he whispers, squishing your cheeks to push your mouth open before slapping the fat of his cock onto your tongue. “You still with us?”

“Mhm…”

“Good, good girl.“

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

a/n;; dick was supposed to have the upper hand for most of this but listen, things happen. writing this was honestly so fun but idk if it’ll ever happen again anytime soon </3. pls enjoy, like, comment and reblog, i’d appreciate it :p

[ericshoney]

Future vlogger ~ Brothers!Sturniolo triplets

Summary: You get a hold of the camera not realising it was vlogging.

Warnings: None

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the age of two, you have already changed so many lives. You were a total surprise to your family, your parents not expecting to get pregnant this later in life, but they were happy, along with your four older brothers.

You were now at the age where you were starting to learn everything, wondering why three of your brothers looked the same and sometimes lived with you and sometimes didn't.

Nick, Matt and Chris explained simply what they did, showed you some of their videos, which always made you giggle.

Today the guys were back in Boston and wanted to take you out for lunch whilst filming a little vlog.

"What's up guys, welcome back to another vlog, today we are just going out and taking our little sister, Y/n too." Nick introduced.

"Come along for the fun!" Chris exclaimed.

You then came running out of Matt's room, wearing a tiny Fresh Love hoodie that Chris got you custom made, some brown shorts and a pair of black Converse.

"There's the special Sturniolo!" Chris shouted as you ran to him.

"Loving the outfit, kiddo." Nick said, showing the camera your fit.

"Matty pick it." You said as Matt walked in smiling.

"That I did, bub." He replied.

"Okay guys, first stop, food!" Chris shouted to the camera.

Nick turned the camera off as you all got in the car, you sat in the back with Nick playing some games on your IPad, whilst Chris was trying to find some songs to play that didn't swear much. The guys tried their hardest not to swear around you, but sometimes it was too hard not too.

"Get out of the fucking road you idiot!" Matt screamed at some dude who was just crossing in the middle of a busy road.

"Matt!" Nick shouted.

"Oops." He mumbled.

You were luckily distracted by your IPad not to notice. When you all arrived at the restaurant, you held Nick's hand as you walked in, Chris vlogging when you sat down.

"Whatcha colouring, kid?" He asked, as you coloured your menu.

"Cat." You answered, pointing to the now purple cat.

"Very cute." He said.

After a bit, Chris put the camera down, thinking it was turned off. You reached for it and giggled pulling faces at the camera, not knowing it was still recording.

"Hi vog." You waved, making the guys smile.

Once the food arrived you all started eating. Nick cut your chicken up so it was easier for you to eat as the guys talked about what else to do.

~~~~

When you all returned home, you ran off to find Trevor as Nick started to edit the footage. He sat watching it and noticed it recorded your bit in the restaurant, calling Matt and Chris he played back the footage again.

"I thought it was turned off." Chris said.

"Well obviously it wasn't." Nick sassily responded.

"Keep it in. It's cute." Matt said.

"It is, the fans will love it too." Chris replied agreeing.

"We have a future vlogger on our hands~" Nick sang, smiling again at the screen.

[physalian]

What No One Tells you about Writing #3

Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!

Part 1

Part 2

1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately

But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.

Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.

2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite

Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.

Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.

3. Outline? What outline?

Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.

Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.

4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel

I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).

Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.

5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.

Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.

Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.

6. Write the scenes you want to write first

And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.

And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.

7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?

No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.

A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.

[boiohboii]

Protective girl (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Inspires by @charles-eclair16 's fic

When fans go too far, yn wants to protect the one treasure in her life

or

in which we finally get to see the roles reversed

N.B: this is been in my drafts for so long, omg! Let me know what you guys think!! WARNING: not proof read, some swear words, might have messed up a date, don't focus on any dates mentioned, this is all fictional anyways. Hope you guys like it

masterlist

Liked by Arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,379,064 others

itsmeyn: charles always goes above and beyond for every single fan of his, he tries to take as many pictures and sign as many autographs as possible, but what happened last night was a fucking joke. He doesn't like what I'm writing cause he says that it was just a mistake and that it was fine, but it really isn't, it's so disrespectful and disgusting! He always wants to meet his fans and make them happy only to receive this insanity, him falling AND HURTING HIMSELF because some of you can't fucking wait and be organized like a human being! Charles isn't an animal in a zoo where you race to pet him! He is a human being, he is a son, a brother and a boyfriend! This wasn't just an accident, i have seen these 6 girls multiple times in multiple places! it's so obsessive and so so sick of you to follow him everywhere.... Charles won't speak up because he is Charles and he lives seeing the good in people, but I will tear everything and everyone for his safety, so for you 6 girls you will be hearing from court soon so better prepare a good lawyer you assholes!

Comments on this post have been disabled.

Liked by leclercboy, ynistheitgurl, fuckferarri and 91,739 others

F1_updates_live: Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, YN LN, seen today arriving in front of the UK's courthouse in a red SF9 Ferarri. It had been quite a week for YN as she was seen hitting a fan after the said fan pushed Charles. YN took this fan and 5 others to court, no one knows on what bases but what has come out is that she has won the case which means that Charles and YN have restraining orders against the group.

username: OHH HEEEELLL YEAAAAAHH

username: yn doing God's work

username: yn serving justice

username: that's what we needed

username: hot girl shit

username: the car and suit combo is so fucking hot of her

username: I think this is too much, like these girls just wanted to see Charles

username: @.itsmeyn can we make them 7?

username: another one

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, pierregasly and 617,829 others

itsmeyn: don't blame me, love made me crazy

username: YN IS A FELLOW SWIFTIE?!?!?

username: if I had a nickel for everytime yn and I had something in common I'd have 2 nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

username: now I just want her to watch all the charles edits done with a taylor song

itsmeyn: who says i already don't 🌚

username: and I oop-

username: THIS IS THE SWEETEST AND CRINGIEST SHIT EVER!

Liked by wolfffam, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll and 817,629 others

itsmeyn: congratulations to my baby, the love of my life, you deserve it and so much more ♥️♥️

username: FINALLY!!

username: idk how to react, ferarri has let us down too many times that all I know is lose

username: I don't see how he deserves it tbh, all of his results are shit for quite a while , he's only where he is cause he's driving a ferarri 🤷‍♂️

itsmeyn: oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the one in a formula one car, in a ferarri, that by the words of many professionals is at its worse era. I don't care about you and your opinion but don't state it as a fact, no one can do better with these strategies. I hate to keep saying this but when your own fucking team doesn't have the same dream as you it turns to shit. Even if charles is the only one in the car, it's still a team sport, not a one man sport. Fuck you and your tiny ass brain that can never survive one lap in a formula one car, it'll probably explode cause of all the bullshit in it before the first lap anyway. So next time you wanna talk shit maybe try to do fifth of who you're criticising is doing, I bet that'll shut you up real quick you dimwit.

Liked by leclercpascale, pilotesofmonaco, tswiftyn, and 52,719 others

F1_updates_live: YN LN, Charles' long time girlfriend, seen today fighting Xavi in Bahrain due to his mistake on the radio which resulted in Charles losing his podium position.

username: good for her

username: charles is so lucky

username: I love how she always stands up for him

username: honestly, whenever charles or carlos ignore the strategies they win... I really wanna see more of that.

username: this is just Monaco 2024 GP all over again, yn was so fucking furious (rightfully so) cause Xavi's mistake costed charles a p1 in his home race.

username: this shit was so heartbreaking man

username: I think this was the first time we ever saw yn angry at sabotaging charles, like the most we saw was her holding his hand when crossing the street, making sure he eats first, playing with his hair when nervous, but I've never seen yn make someone literally cry until 2024 with Xavi being her victim

username: pffft, victim, he 100% deserved it

username: oh yeah, definitely. All my homes hate Xavi, like can you not say the strategy properly 😒

[plutolovesyou]

i have this stupid idea in my head and it won't leave- ugh ok imagine this. y'know how in those rom-coms there's a moment where the main characters partner will throw rocks at the mc's window to get their attention. and then crawl inside the mc's room after almost dying climbing up by the nearby tree, scaling the roof tiles and almost tripping. i can't unsee some type of modern!ellie doing exactly that.... imagine her cutie self scurrying around your yard to find little tiny pebbles that won't scratch the glass and pelting them, all you hear is clink, clink, clink. then you open your window like "girl what??" and she stares up at you on the second floor asking if you two can chat, "please lemme in?" such a cutie. IMAGINE SHE BRINGS HER GUITAR TO SERENADE YOU AS WELL. oh gosh and then climbing up. you wouldn't even be able to watch, lest she slips and splats on the ground. and she almost does, being adorably klutzy, fingers slipping as she hoists herself up the branches, then balances across your roof and almost dies once more. and she makes it yayyy!! you cannot resist opening the window to let her in, partly because she's so silly, and partly because you didn't want her to slip and die leaving. however!! it is also nighttime and y'all gotta be quiet, whatever it is you may be doing once she's successfully made the journey. DO I WRITE THIS FR??? months ago i used to write these little ideas and never take them anywhere but i dunno....maybe i'll twist something outta this one eventually, unlike the other few oops. but like i really do love this idea- just might make something with it one day we shall see heheh...

edit: i wrote it here you go

[sugarcoated-lame]

Life’s A Beach | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

This is the second installment of my single dad Bradley miniseries | part one | library blog

Summary: A few weeks have passed since meeting Bradley and Caroline, and what better way to spend time with the adorable father-daughter duo again than a day at the beach?

WC: 6K

Warnings: all of my works are 18+ minors DNI, shirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradley, reader wears a bikini but there are no descriptions of body size/shape, mentions of food/eating, mutual pining, like one tiny mention of smut towards the end if you squint, I don’t really think there’s much else this is literally just straight up fluff, dilf Bradley just being the absolute sweetest, this part is much longer than the first bc I already had it written and then couldn’t help myself from adding almost 3k words while editing oops, once again I suck at titles and summaries :)

a/n: the header for this chapter was my first attempt at making a mood board, I hope y’all like it :) I love Dadley Dadshaw™️ and little Caroline so much, I couldn’t stop smiling while writing this chapter of pure fluff! If you enjoy it, please comment/reblog feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading! <3

•

•

You’re checking yourself in the mirror for probably the twentieth time when your phone buzzes with a text alerting you that Bradley is outside. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time this morning trying on countless swimsuits in an attempt to find the perfect one.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon and with Bradley having the day off, and Caroline done with school for the weekend, he’d invited you to join them for a day at the beach. Since meeting them at the mall a few weeks ago when you’d helped reunite the father-daughter duo after the little girl had gotten lost, you’d maintained pretty regular communication.

The two of you had been texting almost daily, chatting about your days and getting to know each other a little better, and you were delighted to find out that Bradley did not, in fact, have a wife. He’d send you silly pictures of him and Caroline that never failed to make you smile even after a shitty day, and left you wondering how someone could still be so attractive while making the stupidest faces. 

He told you a bit about his job — as not just a pilot like his daughter had told you when you met, but a fighter pilot, a naval aviator — and you told him about yours. You talked about your respective hobbies, favorite movies and your tastes in music among other things. Anything and everything that had come to mind, really.

Talking to Bradley was always easy. And there was definitely a bit of flirting. Okay, maybe a lot of flirting.

You’d also talk to Caroline too. She and Bradley had FaceTimed you a few times over the weeks and she’d update you all about how she was enjoying preschool so far, telling you that her daddy cried when he dropped her off on her first day — though, Bradley insists that he didn't — and about the new friends she’s made, before always asking when she’d get to see you again. You’d promised her, soon.

You’ve been pretty swamped with work, but you’re excited — if not a little anxious — to see them again. Though you hadn’t gotten another chance to see Bradley in person since that first day at the mall, your crush on him had grown exponentially. He was funny, charming, an amazing father to the sweetest little girl, and not to mention incredibly good looking.

Even through an iPhone camera, Bradley always looked so effortlessly gorgeous, his boyish smile and pretty eyes never failing to give you butterflies. You’d have to actively try not to swoon all the times he’d called you ‘sweetheart’ or said you looked pretty over FaceTime. 

You could tell the mustached man liked you too, if his shameless flirting was anything to go by. He was too charming for his own good and he never seemed to fail to paint a blush on your cheeks. So, you want to make sure you look good when you join him and his daughter at the beach today.

You’d settled on a black bikini, the longline triangle top big enough to cover you up with enough cleavage to still be sexy, and the bottoms a little high waisted, the side strings pulled up high on your hips to accentuate your curves. You’d let your hair fall loose and flowing, and put on a light dusting of makeup.

After receiving Bradley’s text, you quickly throw on a matching black cover-up that ties at the front, your favorite pair of shorts and some flip flops, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Bradley’s waiting for you, leaned up against the side of his classic blue Bronco in a white and baby blue floral Hawaiian shirt — which you’ve learned over the last few weeks that he seems to own quite an array of, a pair of dark gray swim trunks that show off his muscular calves, and a pair of aviators shielding his eyes from the early afternoon sun.

His tanned features only seem to glow in the bright light of the sun, and as you watch Bradley’s face light up with a grin when he sees you, sandy curls blowing in the slight breeze, you have to clench your teeth to keep your jaw from dropping. God, he’s gorgeous.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

Bradley pulls you into a hug as soon as you reach him, and you happily wrap your arms around him. Inhaling his delicious scent and relishing in his warmth as you tell him that you’re doing good, before asking how he’s been too.

“I’ve been good, thanks. You look beautiful.” Bradley compliments you with a growing smirk once he releases you. You’re going to have to get used to the blush that seems to permanently reside over your cheeks whenever you are in his presence.

“You look– good too…” You trail off shyly, lips lifting into a sheepish grin as you push back some strands of hair that had blown in your face from the breeze, looking down at your sandal-clad feet. 

Flirting with Bradley was much easier over text. You’re just thankful that his eyes are currently covered by his sunglasses, unsure if you’d be able to handle his deep, honeyed gaze on you right now without your knees buckling.

Bradley chuckles at your shyness, he loves how easily he can make you flush.

“Come on, I know someone is very excited to see you.” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back and leads you to the passenger side of the Bronco, opening the door for you. Your skin tingles with warmth where his hand had touched you as you climb into the passenger seat and Bradley closes the door for you.

Immediately upon entering the truck, you’re met with a high-pitched yell of your name. You turn around to see Caroline, all tucked into her car seat, sandy curls tied up in pigtails, and a tiny pair of aviator sunglasses that match her dad’s over her eyes. She really is Bradley's mini-me and you don’t think she could get any cuter.

“Hey, sweet pea!” She’d told you when you called her that on one of your FaceTime calls that that was her favorite nickname because peas are her favorite vegetable.

“You ready for a beach day?” You inquire happily, to which Caroline replies with a toothy grin and excited squeals of affirmation. She lifts her little aviators up onto the top of her head as she talks excitedly to you, while Bradley chuckles and begins to drive.

The two of you spend the entire drive to the beach chatting animatedly, Bradley chiming in here and there, but mostly just enjoying listening to the way you happily field the kind of questions and roundabout rambling that can only come from a four-year old. 

He swears that his heart is going to explode out of his chest seeing how great you are with his daughter. How much Caroline already seems to love you, and how much you seem to love her too.

*** 

Upon arriving at the beach and finding a spot for the Bronco in the moderately crowded lot, Bradley quickly leaps out of the driver’s side to open your door for you, eliciting a bashful smile and quiet ‘thanks’ from you as he takes your hand in his much larger one to help you down.

When your feet are safely on the ground and he’s closed the door behind you, Bradley makes his way to the back door to help Caroline — who is bouncing her little legs and practically vibrating with excitement – out of her car seat. 

The three of you make your way up to the beach, Bradley carrying a large cooler that he procured from the trunk. And while you try your hardest to not drool over his impressive arms, you hold a large tote that’s filled to the brim with a blanket, towels, Caroline’s countless beach toys, and an umbrella sticking out of the top in one hand, and Caroline’s smaller hand in your free one. 

It’s only a short walk, and the second your feet touch the sand, Caroline’s little hand releases yours as she bounds ahead of you and her father in search of a good spot to set up.

Bradley lets out an exasperated sigh and lifts up his sunglasses, sharp eyes trained ahead to follow his daughter’s bouncing pigtails as she runs along the busy beach. “God, she’s really gotta stop doing that.”

Holding back a giggle — because you know firsthand that Caroline wandering off is a fairly common occurrence — you look up at Bradley with a sympathetic pout.

“Yeah, but if she didn’t do that, you never would’ve met me.” You shrug matter-of-factly, lips tugging up at the corner on their own accord. 

Bradley can’t help but chuckle at that. 

“I guess that’s true,” the playful smirk growing on your face draws a matching one onto his lips. “But, sooner or later, she’s gonna give her old man a heart attack.”

You join him in his laughter as you continue walking toward the empty spot where you see Caroline has stopped, bouncing on her feet and waiting for the two of you with an adorable toothy grin. 

“You’re not that old.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you lightly smack his shoulder.

Once everything is set up – the blanket laid out along the sand and held down at the corners by the heavy cooler and the tote, the large beach umbrella creating a nice bit of shade, and Caroline’s various toys already scattered about — Bradley kicks off his flip flops and reaches up to begin unbuttoning his Hawaiian shirt. Dropping his aviators onto the blanket along with it, leaving him in just his dark gray swim shorts with his torso bare. 

Whoa. You thought he was hot with his clothes on, but you nearly went into shock upon seeing him without them. You knew Bradley was obviously in shape — you could see that even under the Hawaiian shirts and soft looking Navy tees he always wore over Facetime – but you didn’t know he was that muscular.

All golden skin and rippling muscles, broad shoulders and strong arms. Almost ridiculously toned abs and thick thighs leading down to shapely legs, Bradley looked like he was sculpted by the gods. Though he was a father, he certainly did not have a ‘dad bod’. You guessed that his elite naval training must be to thank for that.

In the hopes of distracting yourself — and to stop yourself from frothing at the mouth over Bradley’s physique, you decide to focus on applying the sunscreen that you also found in Bradley’s beach bag. You remove your cover-up and shimmy out of your shorts, already enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun blanketing the newly exposed skin.

Holy shit, Bradley has to stop himself from saying out loud as he catches a view of you in your bikini. 

The way that the black fabric fits your body perfectly, just a hint of your plush breasts visible in the triangle top and the high-cut bottoms with little strings that cinch in at your waist accentuating your curves in all the right places, has Bradley’s heart beating faster and his cheeks heating up with a flush that he knows is not just a product of the bright sun. 

He feels like he might start drooling at any moment as he takes in the sight of your skin – so much skin, and he wants to know if it would feel as soft as it looks, under his fingertips.

He watches in awe as you begin to apply your sunscreen, delicate hands smoothing over planes of skin, and Bradley wishes he could replace them with his own. He needs to stop ogling you before his swim trunks begin to show the evidence of just how much you’re affecting him.

When you’re finished lathering yourself in sunscreen, Bradley’s heart starts clenching in his chest for a whole different reason as you offer to help Caroline apply hers. She accepts your offer without hesitation, head nodding a mile a minute and that big grin that never fails to make Bradley’s heart melt on her sweet little face, and he swears she’s never taken to anyone — not even the Dagger Squad — so quickly.

He gazes on, eyes with wide adoration as you kneel down to meet his daughter’s height, gently – and oh so patiently – rubbing the cream onto the baby-soft skin of her arms and legs as she jumps and squirms around, her golden brown curls bouncing, the impatient four-year old ready to take off like a tornado down the beach. 

Bradley can’t help but admire the sweet smile that overtakes your face and your soft laugh as Caroline scrunches up her adorable little button nose while you apply the sunscreen to her face, and he swears his heart grows three times its size when he hears the giggles bubbling out of his little girl’s mouth as you playfully pinch her nose and let her know that you’re done.

“What do we say, Caroline?” Bradley asks his daughter before she has a chance to run off in her excitement. His tone is slightly stern and his hands are on his hips, though a smirk is tugging at the corner of his lips as he squints against the bright sun to look at his daughter who returns his gaze with a wide-eyed, almost caught-out expression.

“Thank you!” Caroline turns back to you and wraps her arms around your neck in a quick hug that makes your heart melt. 

Before you can hug her back, she races over to her dad and hugs her arms around his hips, her little head resting on his taut belly as she looks up at him with those big, brown puppy dog eyes that rival his own. 

“Can we go in the ocean, Daddy?” 

When Bradley lovingly strokes the crown of her head and grins down at her, you swear you could cry from how adorable the two of them are. “Of course we can, Bug.”

Then, Bradley lifts his little girl off the sand – and she looks so tiny in his arms – and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them as he leans down to blow raspberries on Caroline’s tummy through the fabric of her ruffly lilac bathing suit, high-pitched squeals and shrieking giggles leaving her as she flails in his hold, breathlessly yelling, “Daddy, stop!” while he continues to tickle her.

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” Bradley chuckles, only stopping when one of Caroline’s flailing limbs nearly hits him in the face. He presses a kiss to one of her flushed cheeks, and then the two of them are looking at you with matching grins. 

“You comin’, sweetheart?” The term of endearment makes your heart flutter. You glance between the two of them, holding back a laugh at the four-year old that’s buzzing with excitement in her father’s arms.

“I think I’m just gonna relax here for a bit and soak up some sun, but you two go ahead!” 

Bradley looks down to where you sit on the beach blanket with an appraising look as you smile at the two of them, a hand hovering above your squinting eyes to shield them from the sun, and you could swear you catch his eyes trailing down the line of your body for just a second before returning to yours. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you two go! Enjoy some father-daughter time.” You nod, a pretty smile on your face, and the playful wink you send his daughter has Bradley’s swim trunks feeling the slightest bit tighter again. Yeah, maybe a few minutes apart from you would do him some good.

Little does Bradley know, your reasoning for staying back is similar to his for not arguing with that. You need a moment to yourself to refrain from doing something stupid – like trying to lick his abs or climb him like a tree – if you have to be up close to him and his gorgeous body for one more second.

You relax onto the blanket, your face hidden under the shade of the umbrella as you watch Bradley take off toward the ocean with Caroline still in his arms, the little girl giggling the whole way there. 

You watch on adoringly as Bradley plays with his daughter, chasing her around on the wet sand and scooping her up in his strong arms, spinning her around and dunking her partially into the water. The two of them run through the waves, splashing each other, all smiles and laughs the entire time. 

In just the brief time that you’ve known them, it’s very easy to see that Bradley’s daughter is his whole world.

When they return a while later, Caroline sprints ahead of her dad to reach you on the blanket where you’re already waiting with a smile to hand her her beach towel that has cute little frogs printed all over it. 

Bradley reaches the two of you a few moments later and your arm freezes mid-air as you reach up to hand him a towel as well, too distracted to even ogle over his glistening, wet skin as you notice the red shade that’s beginning to take over the skin of his cheeks and his broad shoulders. 

“Bradley, you’re all red! Did you put on any sunscreen?” You question with a breathy laugh, though Bradley can see the concern in your eyes as he takes the towel from your outstretched hand and begins to dry the water droplets on his tanned skin.

Before he can respond that he had, Caroline chimes in. “Daddy says he burns if he even looks at the sun!” She exclaims through her giggles.

You laugh along with her for a moment before fixing him with that cute, sympathetic pout again that makes Bradley’s heart flutter in his chest.

Before he knows it, you’re reaching into the beach bag for the tube of sunscreen and standing to be closer to his height – though he’s still got quite a few inches on you. 

“Here, let me-” You squeeze some of the sunscreen out onto your fingers, and then your delicate hands are working the cream into the skin of Bradley’s face and his cheeks are, again, warming even more and not because of the sun. 

His skin tingles where your light touch had been, and Bradley thanks whatever gods are out there that Caroline jumps in and insists that you build a sandcastle with her before you get a chance to start working the sunscreen onto his shoulders. He doesn’t know that he could handle you touching him any longer without saying or doing something stupid.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I think I can take it from here.” Bradley’s tone is flirty as he holds a hand out for the tube of sunblock, fingers grazing yours, and his lips turn up in a smirk at the flush developing on your own cheeks as you nod back at him. And he can’t suppress the quiet chuckle at the stumble in your steps as you make your way back over to Caroline to get to work on your sandcastle. 

After applying the sunscreen to his own shoulders, Bradley sits down in the sand to join you and his daughter. 

“Daddy! We’re building the world’s biggest sandcastle!” Caroline exclaims, filling up her bucket with sand. “It’s gonna be bigger than you!”

Bradley lets out a throaty laugh, “Yeah, I’ll bet!” He looks to you and the two of you grin at each other conspiratorially. “Can I help?”

Once the three of you have built – and demolished, a la Caroline jumping straight onto it – the “biggest sandcastle she’s ever seen”, she and Bradley convince you to get in the water with them. 

You all play a game of tag in the shallows, Bradley stopping to lift his daughter out of the water every so often when there was a large wave, before you and Caroline decide to gang up on Bradley to splash him with salty seawater until he’s soaked and looking at the two of you with a pout that you want to kiss right off of his lips. 

Then, Bradley’s pout quickly morphs into a mischief-filled grin, a matching one growing on his daughter’s face as you look between them, the two of them seeming to have a sort of silent conversation. 

“What are you-” Before you can finish asking the question, you let out a yelp as a strong pair of arms wraps around your waist and lifts you into the air, both Bradley and Caroline laughing like hyenas as the four-year old begins splashing you with water, and you can’t help but laugh along with them as you squirm under Bradley’s very strong grip. 

All too soon, Bradley’s arms are releasing you, but he keeps a steadying hand on your waist as he settles you back onto your feet. His whiskey-hued eyes peering into yours and you can only gaze back, left a bit breathless, your skin set alight with butterflies where his large palm had been even when he’s no longer touching you. 

“Daddy, I’m hungry!” Caroline announces, tension in the air dissipating as she jumps up and down between the two of you, tugging on the hem of her dad’s swim trunks. 

You can breathe again as Bradley chuckles at her and finally shifts his gaze away from you, pushing back some of the wet curls that are stuck to her forehead. “Yeah, me too. Lead the way, Bug.”

The three of you make your way back up to your little setup on the beach, the little girl tugging you along with a hand wrapped in yours. 

Bradley produces a few little packs of apple slices and the three sandwiches he’d packed earlier that morning from the cooler, peanut butter and jelly – Caroline’s favorite, as you’ve learned over your many facetime calls with the father-daughter duo and giggled at the four-year old’s jelly-covered face, where you let them know they were one of your favorites too. 

“Bon appetit.” Bradley chuckles, holding out one of the plastic wrapped, diagonally cut sandwiches to you, a slightly sheepish smile coming over his mustached lips. “I know it’s not much, but-” 

You cut him off with a shake of your head before he can finish his statement, and meet him with a sincere grin. “It’s perfect.”

He hands Caroline the one sandwich that has the crusts cut off and a packet of apple slices, and then pulls out an ice cold bottle of water for each of you, and a juicebox for his daughter. 

While Caroline sweetly asks you to put the straw into her juicebox for her, Bradley pulls out one last thing from the cooler that has your heart leaping in your chest when you turn to notice him place something down in front of you. 

A bottle of your favorite iced tea. Something you’d never explicitly mentioned to him, but that Bradley had noticed you always seemed to be drinking on your video calls with them. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet you feel like you could cry at the sweetness of it. 

Bradley’s chest swells with pride as you pin him with a bright smile, eyes full of adoration. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Bradley sends you a wink that sends your heart into overdrive as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. 

Bradley admires the two of you as he sits and eats his PB&J. His daughter is once again talking at you a mile a minute in that adorable, roundabout way that only little kids do as you follow along enthusiastically with a smile, you gently wiping jelly from Caroline’s face with a wet napkin and making sure that she drinks her water when you notice her cheeks getting a bit flushed.

“Just like her daddy.” He listens to you tell Caroline with a playful shake of your head, and the wink you send in his direction has Bradley swearing internally that he’s going to die, and he can’t help but think that he’d be more than happy to do this all the time. 

After spending a while longer on the beach – you and Bradley sat on the large blanket chatting and watching Caroline play and build her own little castles with her pail and shovel, the three of you jumping in the water one more time, and you hiding your snickers behind your hand while Bradley tries to convince Caroline that it is not a good idea to bury him in the sand – the sun is just beginning to set. 

And though he doesn’t want this day to end, Bradley decides it’s time to head home when he notices his four-year old rubbing her eyes and starting to yawn every couple of minutes.

You help him pack everything up and then the three of you make the trek back to the car, Caroline half asleep on her dad’s broad shoulders, while you walk close by Bradley’s side in a peaceful silence.

Caroline falls asleep almost instantly once Bradley gets her settled into the Bronco in her car seat, and you can’t help but coo at the adorable little girl when you turn back to look at her from the passenger seat. 

The drive back to your apartment is a peaceful one, the sun still setting and bathing everything it touches in its dying golden glow — including Bradley — and you find it hard not to stare at his exquisite side profile as he bops his head along to the classic songs that play quietly from the radio as the two of you chat idly, low enough to not wake up the sleeping little girl in the backseat.

When the Bronco comes to a stop in front of your apartment, the sky has almost fully darkened and neither you or Bradley move for a long few moments, neither one of you really wanting to say goodbye, not quite ready for this perfect day to end yet.

Bradley clears his throat and turns his gaze to you with that boyish, mustached grin that sends butterflies coursing through your system and the smile you meet him with is an easy one. 

“Thank you for coming today,” Bradley’s voice is quiet, raspy and deep and heat pools in your tummy as he continues to speak. “Caroline had a blast. She really likes you.”

His statement has you glancing back at the sleepy four-year old and beaming with adoration when you turn back to reply, “I really like her too. And, I had a great time. Thanks for inviting me.” 

Bradley’s smile turns more playful as he nods his head, his honey brown eyes peering deep into your own as he quietly speaks again. “I really like you too.” 

With the pulsing in your ears from your heart practically beating out of your chest, it takes you a few long seconds to reply and all you can manage to get out is a whispered “Yeah, me too…” 

Your voice trails off and and your smile turns sheepish, gaze tilted down toward your lap to hide the obvious flush you know is blooming on your cheeks.

Bradley’s grin only broadens, eyes full of mirth at your sudden shyness.

“Can I walk you to your door?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t really trust yours to be steady with him looking at you like that, so you simply nod in response. 

After Bradley checks behind him to see that his daughter is still sleeping soundly in the backseat, he unbuckles his seatbelt and quietly hops out of the Bronco. He quickly makes his way over to the passenger side to open the door for you and help you down from his truck.

With one last look through the window at Caroline, Bradley locks up the Bronco and you begin the short walk to your door. The two of you are trailing along the concrete path slowly, Bradley’s palm hovering at the small of your back to guide you and warming your skin through the thin fabric of your cover-up. 

You hesitate when you reach your front door, leaning your back against the hardwood to face Bradley, still not quite ready to cut your time with him short. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you thank Bradley before letting him know again, “I really had a great time today.”

“Yeah, me too, sweetheart.” You could swear he’s really trying to kill you every time he uses that nickname. “We should definitely do this again sometime.” 

Your voices are both still quiet, as if to not disturb the peaceful, but intense atmosphere that’s built around the two of you.

“Yes, we should.” You nod your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as Bradley’s eyes peers into yours, pools of molten honey searching your expression. 

Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it. One of his big hands reaches up to cup your cheek, large palm splaying across the smooth skin and long fingers reaching into your hair, and he loves the way you instantly lean into his warm touch. 

Bradley just admires you for a long moment, his heavy gaze trailing down from your pretty eyes to your plush lips, further to where your chest is rapidly rising up and down under your sheer cover-up as your breath quickens, and then back up again to see the look of want in your dilated eyes. 

When he can no longer take the tension that’s been building up between you all day, Bradley takes a step closer, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He leans down and the hand on your cheek guides your lips up to meet his in a kiss that’s sweet, but firm, and all-consuming. 

Your lips move softly against his, one of your hands lifting up to wrap around the wrist of his hand that still cups your face. His pulse under your fingertips grounding you as you sigh into the kiss, and you think you could get lost in him. 

His lips, gentle and languid as they press against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, and the comforting scent of him surrounding you — the spicy cologne that still lingers on his clothes, a hint of sweat mixed with the fresh, beachy scent from a day spent on the sand and sea, and something that’s just Bradley.  

When Bradley deepens the kiss, lips moving more fervently against your own, your resulting whimper has him crowding you against the door, no longer an inch of space left between your bodies as his broad chest presses against yours, his free hand coming to grip at your waist.  

Bradley’s tongue trails the seam of your lips, begging for entrance that you grant him without resistance, swallowing his deep groan as your free hand reaches up to his hair. Your fingers tangle into the strands, his waves extra defined from the salty sea water, fluffy from the beach and now, you. 

As your tongue glides along with his, Bradley’s strong hands now both squeeze at your waist, trailing down your sides until they reach the backs of your thighs. He effortlessly lifts you into his strong arms, never breaking the kiss, and your legs wrap around his waist as the weight of his body presses you harder into your front door. 

Things continue on like this — for minutes or hours, you’re not quite sure as you completely lose yourself in the feeling of Bradley’s kiss — only getting deeper, hungrier, more frenzied. Your lips never parting from Bradley’s despite the burning that’s beginning to grow in your lungs, thighs clenching around his hips in search of even a hint of friction to curb the arousal that’s building in your core.  

Bradley finally pulls away when the lack of oxygen gets to be too much. Your lips chase his, the little whimper you send him when his mouth is no longer on yours, going straight to his cock that’s pressed against your hip, straining against his already-tight swim trunks, and his head is spinning from the way your lips trail down to press gentle kisses to his jaw. 

He wishes he could take you inside your apartment — to your bed, and he would have, but it’s then that he remembers his four year-old daughter is asleep in the backseat of his car. 

Bradley’s forehead presses against your own and he breathes in deep before exhaling a deep sigh to steady himself. After pressing one last peck to your lips, he sets your feet back down on the ground. He takes a step back to look at you, hands hesitating to leave your waist as he doesn’t want to stop touching you yet.

Your expression is dazed, lips are swollen and eyes blown wide, your heaving chest matching his own as you take the oxygen back into your lungs, and Bradley can’t help but pull you in one last time with a hand on the back of your neck to kiss you breathless — again.

When he pulls away this time, Bradley hardly gives himself a moment to catch his breath before he pants out, “Can I please take you on a date?”

You nod your head near-frantically and you laugh just as breathlessly. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Bradley chuckles, gazing down at you in adoration, his thumb that reaches up to caress your cheek and his next words draw a blush to your cheeks. 

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to for weeks. Since the first day that we met you.”

You turn your head to press a sweet kiss to Bradley’s thumb. 

“You could have. I definitely would’ve said yes.” You reply with a bashful smile.

“Yeah, I’m a bit off my game. I haven’t really done this in a while if I’m being honest.” Bradley admits a little sheepishly and you nod along, encouraging him to continue. 

“I haven’t dated much since Caroline. She’s kinda become my whole world.” He scratches the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and hoping you don’t think that’s pathetic.

You take his hand in yours and smile at Bradley, eyes shining bright in what can only be described as admiration. 

“You’re an amazing father, Bradley. You're so dedicated to Caroline and that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze as you gaze up at him, leaning up on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his sun-reddened cheek. “And I definitely want to go out with you.”

“Thank god.” The pair of you let out relieved laughs at his words. Bradley’s hands reach out for your waist once again. “Come here.”

Bradley leaves you with one more passionate kiss that ends way too quickly for either of your liking and a ‘Goodnight, sweetheart’ that paints a blush on your cheeks.

After making sure that you’re safely inside your apartment, Bradley strides back to the Bronco, unable to wipe the grin from his lips. With a glance in the rearview mirror at his baby girl still sound asleep in her car seat, he begins the short journey back to their home, a goofy smile on his face for the entirety of the drive as he thinks about how he’s going to take you on the perfect date.

•

•

•

Thank you for reading! x

Don't forget to comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! I've got one more part planned for this little series, it's not written yet but I hope to get it out to you guys soon <3

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @kmc1989 @avengersfan25 @fictionalmenloversblog @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @praline357 @girlsclub2004 @misshoneypaper @diorrfairy

also tagging some people who reblogged/commented on part one: @bitter-post-millennial @rhettabbotts @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @becks-things @indynerdgirl @perfectprettypisces @annathesillyfriend @southpawbitch @colourfulsuitwonderland @wildxwidow @roger-that-cap @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @valhallaas @mayari-tala @teacupsandtopgun @dorothychxca @fangirlvoice @jjenjoysthings @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @je-suis-prest-rachel

[honeypiehotchner]

gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot

Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33

Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day

Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)

Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!

WC: ...5.7k-ish

I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.

You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.

If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.

Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.

Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--

A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”

“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”

“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”

You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”

“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”

“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”

“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.

“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.

Your eyes widen. “Oh!”

“You look surprised,” he presses.

“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.

What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.

“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”

Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”

That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”

“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.

You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”

“Briefly, right after she died.”

“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”

Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.

In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.

“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”

I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”

“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.

Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.

After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.

Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.

As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.

At least that’s a win.

+++

A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.

Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.

The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.

To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.

You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.

Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.

“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.

“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”

You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.

“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”

“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.

You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”

“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”

“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”

“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”

Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”

Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.

You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.

Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.

“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.

“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”

“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.

“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”

“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”

“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”

“Then he can walk over here himself.”

Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”

You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.

+++

Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.

He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.

He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.

To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.

Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.

He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?

And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.

Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.

+++

The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.

The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.

You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.

Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.

There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.

Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.

You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”

You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”

“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”

All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”

You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.

“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”

As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”

“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”

He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”

“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”

He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.

“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”

Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.

Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.

Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”

You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.

Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.

“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”

“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”

“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”

+++

You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.

You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.

You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.

It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?

He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.

She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.

Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.

It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.

+++

For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.

Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.

The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.

Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).

Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.

“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.

He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”

You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.

“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.

“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”

“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.

“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”

“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.

“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.

“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”

Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”

“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”

Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”

You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.

On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.

As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.

+++

Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.

Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.

As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.

He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.

Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.

What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.

“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.

“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.

Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.

“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”

Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”

“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”

You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”

Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.

He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”

“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”

“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”

“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”

“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”

“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”

“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”

“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”

“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”

Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”

He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”

“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”

“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”

“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”

“It’s May.”

“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”

“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”

He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.

“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.

“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”

“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”

You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”

Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”

“I didn’t forget—”

“I was rude.”

“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”

His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.

“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”

“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”

He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”

“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”

He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.

You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.

“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”

You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.

“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.

You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.

“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.

“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.

He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”

“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”

“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”

He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”

The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.

“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”

“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”

As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I told you I’m bad at this.”

“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”

He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”

He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”

“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.

And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”

“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”

“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.

He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”

[rosella35]

Borrowed Courage: Chapter 12

*Edit* = Kaleb's dad's physical description has changed because I'm indecisive and for next chapter's lore ;)

~

Oop. The last time I updated this was October 2022. I've completed an entire Master's degree since then ^^'

Thank you for being patient with me everyone! You have @fireflywritesgt and their incredible writing recently to thank for me rekindling my G/T hyperfixation and picking up my slack with Borrowed Courage. I hope you enjoy this mammoth of a chapter, kicking off the morning after Brooke and Kaleb's video call.

Word count: 7.4k *whistles*

Content warning: contains angst, swearing, and borrower gang tattoos(?)

****

A normal weekend for Kaleb was relatively boring by human standards, but to his borrower side, it was a welcome change of pace. His daily use of Upsize and constant interaction with humans meant that by the end of the week, Kaleb’s mind and body were battered to the point of exhaustion. It was for that reason that he’d come up with a rule for himself that on his days off, it was strictly ‘borrower time’. The concept was exactly as it sounded; Kaleb’s Saturdays and Sundays were spent tinkering away within the walls at his original size, going on the occasional borrowing trip (mostly out of habit than necessity), and if he really felt like it, travelling to the city’s aptly named interspecies zone with one of his upsized family members. As much as he loved attending school and blending in with human society, there was a deeper, almost visceral part of Kaleb that relished the moments he got to spend living unapologetically as a borrower. 

Unfortunately though, this weekend was going to be different. As his phone’s alarm went off bright and early on Saturday morning, Kaleb groaned, dragging himself reluctantly out from under his mothers’ handmade quilt of fabric scraps and across the room to silence it. He braced himself on the side of his propped up phone for a minute, hiding a yawn behind the back of a hand and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the other. Bands of light streaked through the cracks in the wall that separated his cobbled-together living space from the human-sized apartment outside, illuminating hundreds of tiny, floating dust particles that no borrower could ever seem to escape from. Kaleb studied them intently for a minute, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to flop back into bed.  

There’s no time to sleep in, he reminded himself, because today, he had a mission. A very un-borrower-like mission that involved breaking his own rule. 

In his meagre defence, Kaleb hadn’t expected Brooke to actually take him up on the offer to study together in his family’s apartment. In fact, if he were being honest, he’d made that comment in the spur of the moment to sound cool in front of his human neighbour. This brought him to his current predicament: Kaleb had lied about having human guests over. Well, at least guests Brooke’s age. The truth was, the only human who had ever stepped foot in the Finch residence was Evie, and for good reason. 

This is gonna be a long day. He thought, staring longingly at his unmade bed one last time.  

With a begrudging sigh, Kaleb forced himself into his morning routine. He pulled on a fresh pair of handmade clothes, ran his repurposed toothbrush through his unruly bedhead, and set out into the ‘hallway’ that led to his family’s main living area. His cloth shoes were silent against the dust-covered timber floor, which was really a support beam that ran horizontally from one side of the wall near his human bedroom to the open kitchen and living room area on the other. On a normal Saturday morning, Kaleb would take his time with the trip, admiring the infrastructure of the apartment walls from a perspective he was fairly sure not even the human architects who designed the place would ever experience. Today, that luxury was swept aside as he turned the corner and shimmied down a knotted line stapled to the connecting support beam. From there, he speed-walked the last few feet’s distance towards a door crafted from the sturdy plastic cover and spiral binding of an A6 sized notebook. 

“Hey mom, dad? You there?” Kaleb called as he crossed the threshold, leaving his shoes on a mat at the door. 

Having constant access to Upsize and by association the human world meant that the Finch household was more accessorised than most borrower dwellings. The floor was carpeted for starters, hence his mom’s strict no-shoes policy. Their kitchen and living room area had been purposely built parallel to the human-sized equivalent, which allowed Kaleb’s dad and uncle Rodney to construct a series of tubes and pipelines that provided water, electricity and gas. The kitchen itself boasted a functioning gas stove and range hood made from a small aluminium funnel that filtered the steam outside.  

On the other side of the room was a walk-in pantry that housed a wide assortment of nuts, dried fruits and repurposed glass trinket bottles filled with pickled vegetables. There was a sprig of rosemary and a bay leaf almost as tall as Kaleb himself leant against one side of the doorframe, and a stick of cinnamon on the other. And, on the apartment’s kitchen counter that could be accessed through a door next to the pantry was his uncle Rodney’s most prized possession, a mini fridge meant to hold human cosmetics, that allowed the Finch family to do what most borrowers could never dream of—store their perishables. 

Kaleb’s mom, dad, and twin sisters, who were seated at their popsicle stick dining table having breakfast, glanced up in surprise when he entered the room.  

“Someone’s up early.” His mom remarked, looking over his shoulder at a leather watch pinned horizontally across the wall to check the time. She gestured for him to sit down in a spare seat before leaving her own chair to fetch him a plate and cutlery. Kaleb did so, fighting the urge to drool as he took in the plate of steaming dime-sized pancakes, syrup, and berry slices his mom had prepared in the centre of the table. 

“Heh, yeah. Morning.” He greeted, thanking her as she handed him a simple plastic plate repurposed from a button, a copper wire fork, and a knife he was fairly sure had once belonged in a set of Cluedo. Kaleb wasted no time helping himself to a stack of pancakes, maple syrup, and a slice of strawberry, momentarily distracted from his reason for being up so early in the first place.

As if reading his mind, his mom continued. “It’s not like you to be up this early on a Saturday. How was work last night?” 

“Same old.” He said around a mouthful of pancake. “They’re talking about letting me start working the drive through next month, which sounds kinda cool. Apparently the pay’s a bit better than flipping burgers.” 

“Ooh, I wonder if you’ll get any pranksters.” Juno piped up eagerly from her seat at the other end of the table. “Y’know, like those people on TikTok!” 

Kaleb smirked across at his sister. For their thirteenth birthday and in preparation to begin attending human school next year, Juno and Paige had been gifted their first ever mobile phone, or in other words, their gateway into the world of the internet. Since then, the pair of them had been chattering non-stop about all of the amusing things human influencers did to entertain their loyal fans on social media. “If I do, you’ll be the first one to hear about it.” He promised her, before turning back to his mom. 

“Actually, I was hoping to ask for you and dad’s opinion on something.” Kaleb started, setting his knife and fork down as he mulled over his next words. 

His parents both looked at each other, and then across at him with concern. “Sure, Kaleb. What’s wrong?” Asked his dad, leaning across the table to grab a wedge of blueberry.

“Well… nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just…” He squeezed his eyes shut, finding himself clamming up all over again. Why was it suddenly so hard to speak? 

“Is this about apologising to that girl in your class?” His mom interrupted, lacing her fingers together. “Because if it is—"

“No, no, it’s not that.” He replied before she could continue with what was sure to be another lecture. “Well, I mean, it is, kind of…” Voice trailing off for the second time, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration and decided to just get it over with. 

“How do you feel about me bringing someone from my class over to work on a project next week after school?” He blurted out.

Instantly, the mood around the dining table shifted. “Someone from your class… Wait, you mean a human?” His mom realised, an incredulous look plastering her face. “You want to have a human over? In our apartment?” 

“Who?” His dad enquired, scratching his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Is it someone you’ve told us about before?”

“Well, about that…” Kaleb began to fidget idly with his fork, preparing himself for the reaction his next words would almost certainly garner. “It’s actually Brooke Tucker. Y’know, from downstairs?” 

“Brooke Tucker…” His mom was the first one to connect the dots. “Hold on, you mean the girl your teacher called me about… the exterminator’s daughter?” She looked positively aghast. 

Meanwhile, from the other end of the table, his dad chuckled, amusement glinting in his hazel eyes. It was the perfect example of how he and Kaleb’s mom couldn’t be any more different when it came to handling situations involving humans. “I take it your apology was well received, then?” 

His mom’s icy gaze shifted from Kaleb to her husband. “Hugo, this isn’t a joke.” She scolded, pointing her own wire fork across at him accusingly. “Don’t you see how risky that is, letting a human like that into our home? What if she notices something amiss, or worse, someone gets seen?” 

“Margalo, dear, let’s think about this for a minute.” Kaleb’s dad cut her off from her fretting, well practiced in calming her anxious antics. “It’s not like Kaleb’s going to be giving her a private tour of the walls. I’m sure the two of them will just study together in the main room like I’d imagine any other human students would. Am I getting that right, Kaleb?” 

“Pretty much.” Kaleb confirmed, endlessly grateful for his dad’s support.

His mom glanced helplessly from her husband, to Kaleb, and then back again. “I know, but that doesn’t eliminate the risk involved here.” She protested. “With that… man… for a father, that girl is probably more observant than your average human, and besides all that, I heard from Kaleb’s teacher that she brags about torturing borrowers in class. Why on earth would you want to bring someone like her into our home?”

“Yeah, about that.” Kaleb said, recalling his conversation with Brooke from the other night. “It’s a long story, but turns out, she actually made all of that stuff up to try and get me to leave her alone. I… I think I can trust her.”

Margalo Finch narrowed her eyes. “You think, or you know?” 

Meanwhile, Kaleb’s dad was appraising him with that observant look of his that always seemed to peer deep into one’s soul. It was the same look he got when he was thinking of a new protagonist or plot-line for one of his novels. “She has no reason to suspect us, dear.” He finally said, addressing his dishevelled wife with the calmest voice he could muster. “Even if Kaleb did provoke this Brooke Tucker girl about her father’s…” he coughed “…line of work, that doesn’t mean she’s automatically going to assume there are borrowers living here. Besides, plenty of young humans are getting into borrower rights activism these days, and if she’s had a change of heart so quickly, then isn’t that a good thing? One less thing to worry about with Kaleb going to school, hmm?”  

As he listened to his dad defending him, Kaleb felt a pang of guilt that both of his parents were blissfully unaware of how much Brooke already knew about their family secret. He’d thought about telling them what had happened; how he’d made the fatal error of running his mouth on the apartment roof that night and paid the ultimate price for it; how he’d escaped with Evie’s help and against his better judgement, confronted Brooke again the following night; how he was finally starting to see eye to eye with her, as rocky as that process was turning out to be. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, at least not yet. A part of him was afraid that if he did, he would never be allowed to attend human school or use Upsize again. That was a gamble Kaleb just wasn’t willing to make.  

“I… I understand that, but why?” He was jolted from his thoughts by his mom, who stared across at him with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and defeat. “I’m proud of you for making things right with her, but I thought you couldn’t stand the girl.”  

Kaleb let out an exasperated sigh. That question again. It was one he was still grappling with himself. Why was he making this much of an effort with Brooke? He decided to shelve that debate for the time being, instead casting his mind back to the conversation he’d had with his mom earlier that week. “It’s like you said, isn’t it?” He recalled. “That the humans own the world, and we just live in it. When I thought about it that way, I wanted to make more of an effort to see things from Brooke’s perspective, y’know, just like any other human would. I guess I figured if I do that,” Kaleb almost laughed at the absurdity of his next words, “then maybe we could even be friends someday.” 

Kaleb wasn’t sure if it was the delivery of his conviction, or the fact that he’d used her own words against her, but he could see the fight leaving his mom’s pale blue eyes. She sighed, relenting. “Well… I suppose it’d be alright to have her over, so long as it’s just the one time.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that’s the first hurdle crossed. “Thanks, mom.” 

“You’re actually gonna bring home a human then, Kaleb?” Juno exclaimed. “That is so-o-o dope!” 

“Dope?” Their dad asked, bemused. 

“Yeah!” The borrower teen declared proudly. “We’ve been practicing our slang for human school!”

Kaleb groaned, pinching his brow. “No one uses that word anymore, Juno.”

“But Damon said—”

“If you’re actually listening to Damon, then that’s your first mistake.” 

“That’s what I said!” Paige piped up smugly from beside her twin, and Kaleb reached across the table to give her a first bump. 

“Okay fine, I won’t say it again.” Juno relented, before quickly turning back to her older brother with an impish grin. “But still, Kaleb, are you sure you wanna have a girl over? Our apartment looks so povo.”    

“Hmm… I’ve definitely heard that word get tossed around, but only by this one Australian kid in class.” Kaleb confirmed as he processed the rest of her remark. “You do have a point, though.” He straightened up in his seat. “That’s kind of the other reason I got up so early this morning.” 

“Povo?” His mom repeated in confusion, to which Hugo Finch sighed. 

“I believe our children are comparing the main apartment to something akin to squalor.” 

“Well, I suppose we do have quite a bit of… extra furniture.” She surmised with a chuckle, starting to lose some of the tension she’d built up from before. 

‘Extra furniture’ was a stretch. The truth of the matter was that by nature, everyone in the Finch family was a kleptomaniac. Kaleb had seen a few episodes of Hoarders on YouTube, so he knew their human-sized living space wasn’t overly messy per se, but the fact remained that the Finch apartment currently functioned as more of a storage space for its residents’ various trinkets and bits-and-bobs than a place you’d expect humans to be living in. After all, it wasn’t like most of the giant furniture they could have purchased to fill the rooms would ever be used in the way it was intended. In fact, the only reason the apartment contained things like an old table and chair in the living area and Kaleb’s springy mattress were for the human-sized borrowers to have somewhere to sit while they waited for their Upsize to wear off in the afternoons. 

With that in mind, Kaleb revealed his next big proposal. “How about this,” he declared. “I have some money saved up. If you let me have Brooke over to study, I’ll turn the apartment into the most decked-out human condo you can imagine.” 

Margalo eyed her youngest son skeptically. “That’s the first I’ve heard about these savings.” She pointed out. “Doesn’t most of your money go towards your Upsize?”  

Kaleb cringed at the reminder of his current financial situation. “Well, yeah, but I have some left over.” He protested.

“Hmm,” was all his mom replied with as she mulled over the idea in her head.

His dad spoke up next. “It would be nice to add a little bit of charm to the place. Who knows, maybe if it were more inviting, I would spend more of my time writing out there instead of in my office.” After earning a raised eyebrow from his wife, he added, “It’s just a thought. I’m sure Evie would appreciate it, at the very least.” 

Juno, meanwhile, looked positively ecstatic. “Yes! A home make-over! I’ve always wanted to do that, since I saw this interior design page online!” She exclaimed giddily, jumping out of her seat with her hands still planted on the table.

“Yeah, c’mon, mom.” Paige agreed. “You’ve gotta let Kaleb do it, our apartment will look so awesome at the end! We can even take those cool before-and-after shots like they do on Youtube.”

With bated breath, the four of them waited in suspense for Margalo Finch’s final verdict on the matter. At last, Kaleb’s mom spoke up, though not without first taking a long, thoughtful sip of her peppermint tea. “Just to be clear, whatever this ‘home make-over’ is going to involve, it’ll have to come out of your bank account.” She said sternly. “Your father and I are able to pay for your schooling, but that doesn’t mean we have the money to afford this, too. Remember, your Upsize delivery is tomorrow. It’s not going to be our fault if you have to miss a week of school because you ran out of money to pay for it.” 

Kaleb nodded his understanding. Every second Sunday, he made the journey to the next suburb over, where for lack of a better term, he made the exchange of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars’ cash for his next package of the highly secretive size-changing pills. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.” He assured her, which was only partially true. Satisfied with the way things had gone with his parents, Kaleb thanked them for breakfast and got up from his seat. “Well, I’d better get to it then. I’ve only got this weekend to pull this off.”  

Before he could make his exit, Juno and Paige both leapt out of their own seats, flanking their older brother on either side. Juno looped her arm around Kaleb’s, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Hey bro, if you let us take some of your Upsize, we can help out with the decorating?” 

Kaleb hesitated, weighing up the idea in his head. Their offer wasn’t exactly surprising, all things considered. Ever since their dad had permitted them a trial run of Upsize earlier in the year, the Finch twins had been itching to venture out into the human world again. Kaleb couldn’t blame them. For him, experiencing life from a human’s perspective for the first time was like tasting a forbidden fruit. Once he’d seen everything the bustling city beyond the walls had to offer, the apartment building, despite being roughly the size of a city itself to a borrower, had never felt smaller. 

“Well, I guess this would go a lot quicker if I had some extra help…” Kaleb started to reply, but paused, reminded of the abysmally empty plastic jar in his room where he kept his medication. “But I’m down to my last two pills, and I’ll need at least one and a half for myself…”

As though reading his mind, his dad chimed in. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll go collect your delivery tomorrow for you if your sisters want to help out.” He gave the twins a pointed look. “It’ll do them good to take a break from technology for the day.” In a lower voice, he added. “That’s all they seem to talk about anymore.” 

Kaleb nodded gratefully, before turning his attention back to Juno and Paige and their identical gleeful expressions. “Okay, but that still means I only have enough Upsize left for one extra person, and only for half a day. You’ll have to do rock paper scissors on it.” 

The borrower family watched in amusement as its two youngest members played best of three. A moment later, and Juno let out a triumphant cry. “I win!” 

Paige folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. But you better let me tag along, too, okay?” 

“Okay!” Juno looked relieved that her twin wasn’t mad. “I’ll even wear the overalls Damon bought me with the big pocket on the front, so you can see everything!” 

Kaleb had taken to leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, smiling at their conversation. “Well this is new.” He joked. “I was starting to think I’d need to butt in, but it sounds like you’ve already sorted things out.” 

“Ohshut up, Kaleb. We’re not twelve anymore.” Paige snapped indignantly. “I can take the loss this time.” 

He raised an eyebrow. No, but you’re barely a year older than that. 

“Anyway, Mr. big shot.” Juno continued, hands on her hips. “Forget the Upsize. Do you really have enough money to buy all that human furniture?” 

“Well, no.” He admitted, before shooting them a coy smirk, the irony in what he was about to say not lost on any of them. “It looks like we’ll just have to borrow some things along the way…”

****

While Kaleb and his sisters worked tirelessly from morning till night on their DIY apartment makeover, Brooke’s weekend was shaping up to be as dull as ever. She spent her Saturday locked away in her room, humming along to the latest Five Seconds of Summer album through her AirPods as she scrolled away aimlessly at social media. She wasn’t really paying attention to her phone, though. As she lay there with only her thoughts to entertain her, Brooke couldn’t help but mull over the events of the last week, and the many encounters she’d had with her classmate-turned borrower whose family happened to live on the third floor.

It still felt surreal to look back on it all. So much had changed in such a short time; about the way Brooke viewed society, about the way she viewed borrowers, about the way she viewed Kaleb Finch. It was a lot to process, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. A part of her still wished she could go back in time and stop herself from going up to the rooftop that night, if nothing else but to prevent the torrent or emotions—the confusion, the guilt, and everything in between—that followed.  

Even so, Brooke would be lying to herself at this point if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious about the secret life of her upstairs neighbour.

Bored as she was, the human girl couldn’t help but wonder what Kaleb was doing at that time. Would he be out and about exploring town? Considering his poorly concealed fascination with anything human-made, she could definitely picture that being the case. Or maybe he was hanging out in his own bedroom in the walls; a sight Brooke still hadn’t managed to rid from her mind after getting a glimpse of it during their video call last night. 

Or maybe… she glanced lazily up at the ceiling, studying the grate of the air vent in the corner, half expecting to see a pair of much smaller eyes staring back at her from the other side. Maybe he was passing his time stalking her again, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak out from within the walls. She found herself scanning the room almost involuntarily, studying every nook and cranny that a borrower could possibly conceal themselves in. She felt her phone slip out of her hand as her heart filled with strange sense of… was it yearning? Curiosity? The thought alone made the human girl shudder in discomfort. 

Did she… want to see him again? Brooke was struggling to deny it at this point, especially after last night. Weird as their conversation had been, it had unlocked a part of her that she thought had been buried long ago. Maybe she was lonely after all; lonely enough that even the company of her former bully was preferable to returning to the way things were. After all, the alternative couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have really been enjoying spending time with Kaleb… right?

Stop thinking about him! Brooke’s thoughts screamed, bringing her internal monologue to a screeching halt. You’re not that desperate, Brooke. Get it together! The human girl would have slapped herself again had she not been paranoid about the footage somehow making its way onto the landlady’s security camera feed. With renewed determination, Brooke snatched up her phone and flopped over onto her stomach in bed, opening up her Netflix account. If binge watching the latest season of Stranger Things couldn’t distract her from thinking about her borrower neighbour, she didn’t know what would. 

****

It was at exactly three thirty-five on Sunday afternoon when Brooke realised that ignoring Kaleb’s existence would be easier said than done. After a night spent glued to her phone screen like the teenager that she was, Brooke had committed to watching the last few episodes of the season on her laptop while she simultaneously updated her Spotify playlist with 80’s songs from the show’s latest soundtrack. Just as the credits rolled after the final cliffhanger, Brooke’s reeling thoughts were interrupted by an email notification in the corner of her screen. Still in the midst of processing the show’s ending scene, she clicked on it, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the subject line: Integration Day.It was sent by Mr. Bell, her history and home room teacher, and Brooke immediately felt all of her concerns about Stranger Things drift away as she read the message.

Dear Students,

I hope you have all had a relaxing weekend.

I am emailing in regards to an initiative the school is putting forward in an effort to promote borrower inclusion into the human education system. Beginning this week, the first Friday of every month will be Integration Day, during which we will be inviting those students living with borrower tenants aged 13 to 20 to have them participate in classes. 

If you would like to be involved in this initiative, I have attached a consent form below. In order to be considered, the form must be completed and signed by both your parents or guardians, as well as the parents or guardians of the borrowers wishing to attend school as part of the program. 

More information regarding the initiative will be announced in home class tomorrow morning. 

I look forward to seeing you all then.

Yours sincerely,

Mr Bell

Brooke closed her laptop abruptly, frowning as she took a minute to process the information. This was a surprise. Of all the things she expected her teacher to agree to host, a borrower education scheme certainly wasn’t one of them. It was almost funny, she thought. Had Brooke received that email even a week earlier, she probably would have had a very different reaction to the one she was experiencing now. She imagined herself fuming in front of the laptop screen, cursing at the borrower race that seemed to find every possible way to make her life miserable. Hell, that part of her was still there, in some way. Mostly though, Brooke felt… indifferent about it all. She wasn’t as angry as she probably should’ve been—would’ve been. Instead… Yep, there it was again.

Brooke couldn’t help but wonder how Kaleb felt about the Integration Day announcement.

Running her fingers down her face in exasperation, the human girl decided it was as good a time as any to get some fresh air, if anything to put some distance between herself and… whatever thoughts her head kept conjuring. So, she got up out of bed, tugged on her pair of well-worn doc martens without bothering to properly do up the laces, and set off into the neighbourhood, bidding her parents a brief goodbye on her way out. 

The street was quiet, save for a group of teenagers riding skateboards and laughing amongst themselves out the front of the local diner. Brooke tore her eyes away from the familiar green plaque emblazoned with the letter ‘B’ hanging in its window. Surprising (and frankly, unsanitary) as it was that borrowers were allowed in a burger joint of all places, she didn’t want to think about that right now. Trusty earbuds in, Brooke trudged along the sidewalk, letting the world fall away for a moment as she listened to the comforting riff of a punk rock song.

Eventually, hunger won against out against her mindless wandering, and she stopped by the bakery to grab a ham and salad sandwich on her way back to the apartment. Before long, Brooke found herself sitting against the railing on the rooftop to watch the sunset, absentmindedly nibbling at her late lunch as she took in the pink and orange hues of the sky.

“Damn, am I gonna have to find a new place to do my evening brooding?” A familiar voice piped up, as if on cue, and the human girl barely refrained from cringing at the sound. 

So much for avoiding him. The nagging voice in the back of her mind taunted. It’s almost like you were hoping he’d be here—

Brooke swallowed down those thoughts, as well as her mouthful of sandwich, hard. Trying to compose herself, she tilted her head in the direction of the voice, eyes widening momentarily in surprise to find Kaleb standing at the top of the staircase a few feet away at his borrower size. He was learning casually against the cement wall with his arms folded, a halfway smile on his face that the human girl could barely make out from this distance. She noticed with interest that he was decked out in what she was coming to label his ‘borrowing outfit’ again; tiny black fingerless gloves, a cropped brown jacket and beige undershirt, khaki pants and what looked to be a brand new set of (barf) rat leather boots. A coil of string attached to a fishhook hung from a loop in his belt, and that ratty looking satchel of his was strung across his body, looking somewhat bulkier than usual. 

Realising she was staring, Brooke coughed. “Yeah, sorry, there really isn’t enough space up here for two.” She quipped, gesturing to his smaller form with her sandwich. “Even when you’re… like this.” That raised another question. “Why are you small, anyway?” Brooke’s trademark nonchalant attitude returned in full force like the trusty emotional shield it was. “Surely there’s something productive you could’ve been doing today.”

She could have sworn he gave a tiny eye roll at her comment. “Speak for yourself.” Kaleb scoffed, stepping out towards her so he didn’t have to speak so loudly. “And I don’t have to be human-sized to be productive, geeze.” There was a pause. “To answer your question, though, I’m waiting for a package. The company that… organises my Upsize comes every Sunday afternoon with a delivery. Since I ran out early though, dad’s gone to get it for me.” 

“That doesn’t sound sketchy at all.” Brooke smirked.

A flutter of wings caught her attention, and she watched as a pigeon landed a few metres away, head tilting curiously at her food. Out of the corner of her eye, Brooke didn’t fail to notice Kaleb already taking a few cautious steps backwards, towards the top of the staircase. With a cheeky grin, she tore a piece of bread from her sandwich and tossed it directly in front of the borrower’s escape route.

Less than a second passed before chaos ensued. Pigeons descended from the sky to fight over the crumbs, and Kaleb let out a startled yell, falling unceremoniously onto his backside with his arms held protectively over his head.

“W-What the hell, Brooke?” He cried, scrambling to a stand and slowly edging towards the shadow of her torso. He looked up at her indignantly with his tiny arms folded. At his size, the sight was almost cute, though she would sooner die than admit that to him out loud. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“Relax, they’re just pigeons!” Brooke’s grin widened. “C’mon, don’t you guys train them as pets and shit?”

“You try training a wild animal twice your size, see how well that works out for you.” He grumbled back, thoroughly unamused. 

Brooke smirked, stuffing the last of her sandwich into her mouth. As the pigeons, realising there was no longer food on offer, finally dispersed, Kaleb sighed irritably and took a seat about half a meter away from her, one knee drawn up to his chest. Chewing thoughtfully, she noted the uncharacteristic slump in his tiny shoulders. The human girl had an inkling as to why that might be. 

Following her hunch, she spoke up. “I take it you got the email then? About—”

“Yeah, I got the email.” He interrupted, kicking a minuscule speck of rubble with his shoe. With how close he was sitting to the railing, it sailed right over the edge of the roof, and Brooke was once again left to wonder how Kaleb was able to sit so calmly before a relative five-hundred foot drop without losing his nerve. A Borrower’s tolerance to heights was no joke. 

“So?” She pressed, adopting a cheshire cat’s grin. Reaching out, she poked him in the side with a finger. “Want me to take you with me to class on Friday?  I think everyone would get a kick out of it, especially Amy Snyder.” 

Kaleb swayed where he sat, not even looking up at her. His gaze remained focused on the city view ahead of them, as the sun dipped further into the horizon. “You’re not funny, y’know.” 

“Really? I thought it was plenty funny.” 

“Can’t you take a hint?” he snapped, irritation plain on his tiny face as he finally turned to glare up at her. “I’m not in the mood for your stupid human jokes right now.” 

She leaned back on her elbows on the uneven concrete floor, looking down at him tauntingly. “Clearly. I’m confused, though. Isn’t integration what you lot were pushing for in the first place? I would’ve thought you’d be happier than this.” 

Kaleb grit his teeth. “You call bring-your-borrower-to-class Friday ‘integration’? This whole thing is just a publicity stunt, to boost Westmount’s reputation as a ‘diverse learning environment’.” The borrower shuddered. “Tch. I can already see the headline.” 

“Well, at least they’re making an effort, right?” Brooke pointed out. “That’s more than you can say about other high schools.” 

“The whole point of borrowers attending human school should be to learn. This is more like show-and-tell than anything.” Kaleb shook his head stubbornly, hands clenching around the strap of his bag. “Nope.” He decided. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”  

Brooke stared at him for a moment, his five-inch-tall form silhouetted by the glare of the setting sun. A question was nagging at her mind again, one that had been stewing there since her heated debate with him on the same rooftop just the other night. She tilted her head to the side. “Kaleb, why do you hate humans so much?” 

He looked back at her, caught off guard for a moment as the question sank in. “I—”

“Kaleb? You up here?” A distinctly male voice called out suddenly, and the echo of human footsteps could be heard traipsing up the stairs. As if he’d stepped on a live wire, Kaleb was on his feet in an instant, his face losing several shades of colour. 

“Shit, that’s my dad.” He announced in a panic, flashing her a jaunty salute. “Gotta go!” 

“Your—what?” That was all the warning Brooke got before the borrower took off at full speed towards what was no doubt a secret pathway behind the stairwell. The human girl sat, blinking in shock at how quickly Kaleb had made his escape, just as the sound of a man clearing his throat behind her reached her ears. 

Brooke wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she took in the sight of who she could only assume was Kaleb’s upsized father as he stood at the entrance to the rooftop. “Um, good evening.” He began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he greeted her. “Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone would be up here at this hour.” He warbled. Brooke hadn’t failed to notice the way his hazel eyes darted across the roof as he spoke, no doubt checking for any sign of his currently much smaller son. Frowning faintly, he returned his gaze towards her. “I’m looking for a borro— I mean, a boy around your age. He always comes up here to watch the sunset, you see.”  

Brooke almost snorted at his ramblings. That was definitely a trait Kaleb had inherited. Everything else about him, though, was not at all how she’d imagined the borrower man to look like. For starters, he was lean and wiry, even more so than Kaleb, with shoulder-length brown hair tied in a messy bun at the back, showing only the slightest hints of greying. His skin was a deep olive colour, almost sun-kissed, as though the man had spent more of his life outdoors than in. His body was littered with faded scars, one particularly gruesome one on his leg that looked almost like an animal bite, and another jagged line across his forehead, cutting through one of his eyebrows. He even had his right ear pierced with two simple black studs, making him look less like an author and more like a seasoned warrior from a video game. 

What surprised Brooke most about the man though was the sleeve of tattoos running up almost the entire length of his left arm. At a glance, she could make out the realistic designs of what looked to be a field mouse with its teeth bared against an opposing finch, surrounded by strange symbols completely foreign to her human eyes but looking suspiciously like the borrower equivalent of gang signs. That and the fact that the mysterious man in question was unapologetically wearing a t-shirt that said ‘World’s Greatest Farter (Father)’, boxer shorts, and fluffy slippers left Brooke’s mind completely blown.

Realising he was waiting for a reply, the human girl forced herself to speak. “I haven’t seen anyone, sorry.” She spluttered. You owe me, Kaleb. 

“Oh, well, that’s alright. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.” Kaleb’s father responded, hesitating as he stared her down with almost the same intensity as she had just done with him. “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve seen your face around here before.” 

“Probably not.” She replied glibly. Brooke for one had certainly never seen the man before, otherwise she might have done a better job hiding her bewilderment. As it was, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that borrowers could have tattoos of all things. Shutting down that particular train of thought, the human girl focused back on the conversation at hand. “My family and I just moved in the other day.” She continued, standing up and nodding in his direction. “I’m Brooke.” 

Instantly, recognition flashed in the man’s hazel eyes, and he beamed across at her, closing the gap between them and holding out his hand. “Oh! You must be Brooke Tucker. Our new downstairs neighbour. You know of my son, then—Kaleb.” He cleared his throat a second time as he introduced himself. “My name is Hugo. Hugo Finch. My family and I live in apartment thirty-five.” 

“Nice to meet you.” She answered, awkwardly shaking his hand and trying not to think about how at his normal size, she would be able to fit her own hand around his entire body. “And yeah. He’s in my class.” 

“Yes, he’s told us a lot about you.” Hugo said with a nod, making the human girl’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Really?” Brooke gave the upsized borrower her most innocent smile. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, of course.” He said without missing a beat. “He tells me the two of you are working on a project together for modern history at the moment. It’s nice to see him making some new friends at school.” 

Brooke winced at that. “I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.” She said, dancing around that particular topic. “But yeah, we’re getting there with the presentation. It helps that we live in the same building, too. Definitely makes it easier to get our research done.” She forced out a chuckle. 

“I’ll bet it does.” Hugo agreed pleasantly, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness. “I hear you’ll be visiting our apartment after school this week for a study session, too. Sounds like the two of you will be finished before you know it at this rate.” 

Brooke smirked at the indirect mention that Kaleb had apparently asked his parents if he could have her over to study. Cute. “Yeah, seems like it. It’ll be good to get it done early, I guess.”

“You’ll love what he’s done with the place, too.” Hugo continued, his expression full of pride as he spoke about his son. “It was a mess before, but he and his sisters really stepped up this weekend to clean it up.” He gestured to his blatantly stay-at-home attire. “I even tested out the space for my work today, as you can probably tell. Before, I was renting out another… office because of the clutter, but I can definitely see the appeal of working from home now…” He trailed off with a chuckle, paying no mind to the human girl in front of him as she struggled to process this new information. 

“I didn’t realise Kaleb was… redecorating.” Brooke said slowly, not sure whether to be amused or unsettled. She felt herself fidgeting uncomfortably with the inner seams of her hoodie as she recalled her conversation with the borrower in question last night, and how she’d jokingly suggested taking him up on his offer to have her over to his place. Surely Kaleb hadn’t spent the entire weekend cleaning out his family’s apartment just for them to study in… right? There was no way that could be true. She felt her cheeks redden at the mere thought. 

Brooke was jolted back to the present when Hugo gave a breezy laugh, looking almost as uncomfortable as she did. The man wrung his hands, his expression reminding her vaguely of a deer caught in the headlights. If Brooke didn’t know any better, he’d just told her something he wasn’t supposed to. “R-Right, well, I’m sure he’ll tell you all about that at school tomorrow.” He warbled, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Speaking of Kaleb… if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to tracking him down. It was nice talking to you, Brooke. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” 

Before Brooke could string together a reply, he’d darted back down the stairs almost as quickly as Kaleb had fled the rooftop not even ten minutes earlier. All the human girl could do was stare, hand raised in a wave that had come far too late.

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too…” She muttered to the empty rooftop, as the breeze whistled through her hair and night finally settled in.

Brooke was beginning to wonder if it was a borrower custom to run off mid-conversation. With how much she’d already learned about humankind’s smaller counterparts and their strange and secret culture in the past week, she didn’t think anything would surprise her at this point. Yet she still wanted to know more, a desire that both scared and excited her. She wanted to know more about Kaleb’s world, just like he wanted someone to share it with. Her heart just wasn’t ready to admit that yet. 

For now, the human girl settled back into the blissful ignorance she was used to. She sat down heavily with her back up against the railing, and turned her music back on. 

“My life is so weird.” Brooke sighed up at the stars. 

[seekerstone]

How’d the brownie née bogart go?

sorry to crush anyone's hopes and dreams but it went... fine. not fantastically, but not disastrously either. it was good. we ate the whole thing. was it great? no, not by any means. but was it bad? not at all. it was fine! borderline enjoyable, imminently tolerable. 6.9/10, would make (better) again. recipe under the cut for if you want that

NEW AND IMPROVED MUG BROWNIE (2024 edition)

baby, never underestimate what the power of INGREDIENCE will do for you

also an oven. i didn't have to buy a single thing because i can bake now and so i just do. wrow. imagine that

all measurements are very very very ehhh since i honestly just eyeballed and estimated it all. sorry. follow your heart and all that but also let's be real you're not using this recipe

half a 1/4 cup of flour, as you can't find your (non-existent?) 1/8 cup

3 tsps of cocoa powder, as you don't know how many tsps to a 1/8 cup and don't have a 1/8 cup to use (see above)

2 tsps of sugar

half a tsp of baking powder. perhaps baking soda would be better to use but you can't find yours and the powder is right there. you don't remember which one is better for mug brownies anyway

pour in some milk until it "feels right"

add just a tiny splash of vegetable oil, in place of butter and/or eggs. you need a binding agent for... baking reasons, but you don't have the latter and don't feel like melting the former. so vegetable oil it is. side note: absolutely killed this part, shout out to me

mix all together. marvel over how it looks like a batter, but ponder whether it's enough

add another half 1/4 cup of flour, and 1-2 more tsps of cocoa powder depending on which one i did but forgor sorry

do not add more baking powder because you felt like you added too much previously anyway

1 more tsp of sugar. side note: it was NOT sweet at all so definitely at least double both instances of sugar. perhaps even triple. (and then likely adjust wets to compensate)

mix together. too sludgy! add milk until it once again has a batter like consistency. remark aloud your confusion that it takes up the exact same amount of real estate in the mug (your beloved young dumb and full of libel mug, naturally) but decide against adding yet more in case it overflows. side note: it only rose to about half the cup, definitely add another [see written second amounts above] of everything.

put in the microwave for 29 seconds. check on it. put in for 15 seconds. check on it. another 15 seconds. check on it. at this point it will look and smell done, but you will suspect underneath is unbaked, so do another 30 seconds, broken up in 10 second intervals.

take it out. cautiously poke it. it looks... fine. like a baked good. eat it. it tastes fine! unsweetened, as mentioned previously, and a very unique texture. somewhere between cake and muffin and waffle. you did not make a mug brownie BUT...

neither did you make an alien organism!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

in conclusion we ate it all and would have eaten more. in the future i would make more batter, add more sugar, and throw in some salt (i forgot oops but you can add a pinch) + extract (vanilla/almond, depending on mood), and maybe some butter? to make the consistency more brownie? or even cookie? or cakey? but it was totally edible.

congrats you've made a mug... chocolate... something. it was not alive! see you again next year thanks for coming

[merryfortune]

full spectre event finale thoughts thread

i genuinely cried during the finale

spoilers abound under the cut

Tiny tot Spectre!!!!!! He is so precious!!!!!! A cutie patootie a babbu

But Spectre being able to return to where he belongs, even briefly, made me so happy, I'm so happy for him!!!!!

Ok a little heart-breaking, I remember you, I care about you but I know I don't count since there's no player avatar in duel links but please remember cross duel, you were my biggest weakness!!! But ok cool recapping what we know about how memories criss-cross with ressurection and stuff like that in duel links

WE LOVE A KING WITH SELF CONFIDENCE AND HIGH SELF ESTEEM

This was so moe of Spectre................................. i love him, life may not be a fairy tale for him but consider. it is and he is cinderella.

But, more importantly, this is confirmation that he is still searching for Earth. He is *wishing* for Earth. I am over the moon but in a bittersweet way.

I can finally forgive Duel Links for SB stealing Playmaker's spotlight as Spectre's narrative foil but this is to enhance and create a parallel to them both with Ai and Flame with their partnerships. He is so envious of them in that regard my word.

I've seen speculation from Japanese players that this could also be referring to a possible Dr Kogami ressurection and honestly? since it'll piss off a lot of western fans, I am on their side. A Dr kogami appearance would slap. But even aside from that interpretation more Ignis speculation my beloved.

the one soulburner screenshot lmao but here is what had me crying. I have had this exact sentiment yelled at me as a teen and its a contributing factor to why I latched onto Spectre so hard. Seeing a character who is so joyfully against the grain, is a freak, it means so much to me. I genuinely felt so *seen* by this line but I am worried that I am assuming malice here other people are not. like everyone wants to coddle sb and that's fine/understandable but spectre deserves to have his spotlight and to air his feelings on the trauma he's experienced. like i don't want to pull the bad victim/good victim dichotomy card here but its tempting

Oops I didn't grab screenshots of Revolver's dramatic entrance. Loved it by the way! I think its very funny that he gave Spectre a solemm scoleding for going too far and that Spectre genuinely knocks it off afterwards. It gives us a hint to whether or not Spectre knows if Revolver was the whistleblower, how they function interpersonally despite their diametrically opposing views on the incident. Excellent stuff.

boyfriends..................... the master and servant dynamic...... foaming at the mouth I froth....................... their conflicting feelings o the ignis. i hope we get earth so bad

thread end

this finale was 99.9% perfect for me, the remaining 0.01% would have been if Earth had been name dropped. Let's see where the story picks up next year with Akira. Looking forward to 100%'ing the rerun event too

Edit: crying again because I thought too hard about how Spectre would never betray Revolver and how ryoken gave him a home 😭

[myimaginesandrp]

Unwanted Reunions

Summary: You’re not exactly the best at this superhero stuff, but you try. Everything seems to be going okay until a creature who's  not from around here crashes your universe. And that means… they won’t be the only ones to do so. 

Notes: 2k, Miguel O’Hara x Spider Woman reader

Warnings: Mild angst  maybe?...

A/N: Please be nice. This is the first time I write for the ITSV/ATSV universe. This man just has me in a chokehold rn 🙈 {Also this was 0% Edited. oops}

◣━━━--------━ 🕷 ━-------━━━━━◢

The cool breeze of the evening sky brushed against your cheeks as you slowly made your way up another floor on the glass covered skyscraper you found yourself on. Man you wished you were home. You wished you were in your tiny apartment, laying in bed cuddling with a book, or rotting your brain away with a show like you had planned. Instead  you were here, in the middle of the city, crawling up the 50th floor of some random building as balding men in suits watched you trying, and failing, to keep calm because you were scared out of your mind. The last time you had gone up this far you had almost thrown up inside your mask. As it happens, getting bit by a radioactive spider comes with many perks that don’t include taking away your fear of heights. 

Why you still tried to help people on this side of town was a wonder to you. They were all snobby jerks who looked down on people like you. People with “enhancements” or as most of the population liked to call, “unnatural freaks”. Hence why you had decided to opt for the suit and the mask. It helped keep your sanity and your normal life as “normal” as you could get. As “enhancements” went, yours weren’t so bad. You could’ve been some rando with glowing skin, or some deformed fella with multiple limbs, or like that one poor girl who had spikes sticking out of her back.  Such things happen when you mess with stuff you shouldn’t. The people you worked with didn’t know when to stop, and so here you were shooting webs out of your wrists and feeling tingles every time you were in danger. And of course, crawling up ridiculously tall buildings because you were just a girl trying to help people. 

Today people happened to be two idiots who were filming videos on a loose platform instead of cleaning the windows like they were supposed to. They were young, one blonde and the other with rainbow colored hair who were looking around frantically as the platform they stood on swung in the wind. Their camera was a scattered mess of plastic on the ground, and if you didn't hurry, they were going to be joining the scraps soon. But the farther up you went, the harder the wind pushed against you, and honestly maybe this superhero life just wasn't for you anymore. It had been months of near misses and property damage, and rude ladies telling you to mind your own business. 

The snap of a rope above you pulled you away from your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see the last cable holding the platform give out. You leaped up with all the strength you had and grabbed the rainbow haired guy, as the other held on to what was left of the support cables with all his mind. As a series of webs later and you had him all wrapped up around you, holding on as you reached for the other who would not let go. 

“Buddy, you need to let go, that thing is gonna give out!” Exasperated, you reached out to him only to have him kick at your hand, sending his shoe straight up to hit your forehead before it went tumbling down below.

“ I don't want your help, you're a woman! I’ll wait for that one guy with the rocket suit to show up”. Your eyes flashed red. There was no way this guy was for real. 

“Look asshole! He’s in jail! He was laundering money”  you yell back at him while the other young man wrapped around you began to sob.

“I don’t care, I’ll just wait here”  the blonde screamed, shaking his head. A warm puddle of what you hopped were tears spread down your back and you reached forward again only to get hit in the face with another shoe. 

“Look you can either come with me, or you can turn yourself into a puddle of guts once you hit the ground. Your choice!” You took several deep breaths and offered your hand again. This time he reluctantly reached out his arm and you pulled him quickly before he changed his mind. 

The way down was ridiculously slow. The screams and cries of the two men mixed together with the force of the wind made the whole ordeal that much more unpleasant. The last rays of the day were hiding behind the rows of buildings as you focused all your attention on not looking down.  A decent sized crowd gathered at the bottom, a fire truck just pulling into the street to help. Just as you were about to reach the bottom and be done with this mess, you felt your body go rigid. 

No, not now. You thought to yourself as your “tingles” went off, letting you know something was off. What could possibly be happening now… Your answer came in a scatter of screams from the people below. Bodies ran into one another and others pointed up into the sky. You turned in time to see a mass of colors paint the sky and a single figure stepped through. And as a flash of familiarity hit you when you saw him, so did a large creature on your left. 

The two men went flying into the ground and you were lifted into the sky by an enormous pair of wings. It took you a second before you realized it was actually a man, or at least he looked like a man, with a large beak and a set of talons that began clawing at you. Glass broke around you as the man creature flew through buildings heading towards the part of the city you knew was trouble. 

The large green building you worked at came closer and closer and all you could do was try and try to pull and jump and evade his attacks. Still you managed to redirect him towards the river. A moment later you were crashing into a large and thankfully empty warehouse. The creature was shifting and screeching in pain and you rubbed your eyes to make sure you were seeing correctly but this thing was not from around here. And if this thing was not from around here, then others would follow. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you realized you were in for a seriously unwanted reunion. 

Shaking your head you leaped up and made short work of the creature. Now that you had your feet on the ground it was easy for you to work your way around the threat. With a long sigh you finished tying him up and dropped to the ground, to check on your wounds. Most of your arms were scratched up and a nasty gash on the side of your waist was throbbing, but you were okay. You stood up and looked over at the falcon man? Who was knocked out in front of you.

“Now what am I going to do with you? Hmm?” You said as you walked around to get a good look at him.

“I’d be more than happy to take him off your hands” Said a familiar voice behind you. Your body tensed and relaxed as you turned to meet a pair of brown eyes you thought you’d never see again. 

“ Jess!” You made your way over to her and she welcomed you into her arms with a  warm embrace. “I’ve missed you so much” 

“Me too girl, Headquarters hasn’t been the same without you and your big brain” She said with a warm smile. 

“Oh I doubt it, Lyla should have everything taken care of…” 

“Not everything” she replied and nodded her head to the side. Your eyes trailed away from hers as another figure stepped out of the Shadows. 

You took a step back as your heart betrayed you by speeding up to a mile a minute. He had his full suit on so you couldn’t see his face or any emotion behind the new mask as he made his way toward the two of you. He was so tall, taller than you remembered, and his gaze was fixed on you as he began making his way towards you. His name slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Miguel” 

“I thought you were going to wait for me by the river?” Jess said as she began to play with her watch, scanning the creature. 

“You took too long,” he replied as he looked over at the creature before coming back to meet your gaze. 

“I guess this one is yours?” you cleared your throat. Your name left his lips and you had to move before your body betrayed you and did something stupid like cry. “He’s all knocked out. You should be able to take him with no issues I-”

“You’re hurt” Jess said as she reached forward and lifted your arm to reveal the gash on your side. “We gotta get this looked at”

“No, it’s fine” you said, stepping away “I’m sure it will heal very soon, it's not a big deal.” A firm hand  wrapped around your wrist as he called your name again. 

“She’s right, just have someone in headquarters look at it and you can come right back” he said stepping closer to you. 

“That’s not a good idea. I have a lot to do here. I have people to look after here” 

“Chiquita, it will be quick. I promise.” Your body went rigid at his words. 

“Yeah I’m not sure your promises have much weight to them anymore.” He winced at your words, letting go of your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you two catch up for a second.” Jess cut in, “See you at headquarters!” she said before disappearing into a portal.

“Chiquita…” Miguel started but you took a  step back shaking your head.

“No, you don’t get to call me sweet names anymore. You broke your promise”

“You know I had no choice. I had to do what I did for the good of the universe. You know that!” 

“You don’t know that! How could you possibly know what the outcome would be?”

“ All the calculations said-”

“He was a child, Miguel! A child! I told you to give me a chance to help him and you went behind my back and you did what you wanted anyway” your voice getting louder and louder.

“You think I wanted to do that to Miles? You think it was easy for me to do what I had to?” he said pacing around.

“ I needed time” you said shaking your head “ I just needed a little more time and we could’ve found an answer”

“But we didn’t have time!” His tone finally reached yours. “We didn’t have time and he was going to destroy millions of people’s lives.” 

“You lied to me Miguel. You lied to me. You were so hellbent on doing what you thought was okay that you didn’t care who you hurt on the way.” Your breath cuts off as the pain in your side burns through you. He runs over and catches you before you fall over. In a moment his mask is gone and you’re staring into his eyes. His eyebrows furrow with concern as he looks over at the red on your  suit that is growing each second. 

“ We can talk about this later. Please, let me help you.” he pleads.

 You don’t know if it’s the loss of blood making you dizzy but you nod your head reluctantly.

“Fine, but as soon as I heal you bring me back” you say. Or you mean to say, but instead a mess of syllables leaves you.  A moment later he lifts you into his arms and as you lean your head on his chest the world around your shifts into a colorful mess. He steps through the portal and you let the heaviness of your eyelids win, welcoming the darkness. 

___🕷___

Tysm for reading :> it’s been a hot minute since I actually wrote something so I know this is gonna be a mess. Either way if you made it this far, thank you so so much for taking the time to read this ❤️

Ps. I’ve been working in this chapter so I’ll be posting an updated one very soon. Please look for ward to that!

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 1 Behind Closed Doors

Set adrift by his own choosing, Bucky goes home to the abandoned apartment he grew up in, but perhaps it isn't as abandoned as he first thought.

Read it on AO3 here.

Chapter 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes Rating: T CW: blood, threat Prompts filled: Fandom-Free Bingo Frosty Edition (card 1): Cuddling to stay warm @fandom-free-bingo Fandom-Free Bingo Flight Edition: Anonymous gifts Fluffbruary: Day 2 - Scent, Day 16 - Neighbour @fluffbruary Seasonal Delights Language of Flowers: Calla lily @seasonaldelightsbingo Multifandom-Flash Round 1: A scar to remember @multifandom-flash

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.” 

G.K. Chesterton 

Bucky came and went via the fire escape that he’d carefully mangled on his second night back there, a relic of his childhood now inaccessible to anyone who couldn’t bend cast iron or jump 6ft straight up. Didn’t account for at least half of the people he actually knew, sure, including the guy he’d most often climbed it with, but seemed effective so far at keeping out random squatters. Not real charitable, he guessed, locking down an entire apartment building to himself somewhere so many people lacked even a roof to call shelter but he never signed up for them to be his problem. And he liked not being disturbed. Other things he liked included not thinking too hard about some of the stranger aspects of the building he was once again calling home. In spite of the housing shortage, he guessed it might not be so weird that no one had gotten round to tearing the place down in all these years, and to judge by the disintegrating newspapers he’d found tacked up as draft excluders the building hadn’t been inhabited since the 80s. But why was the gas still connected? No electricity, far as he could tell without knocking more holes in the walls than he thought the place could take without crumbling, but the water was still running.

Those mysteries had come clearer after he found the first camera. It had been pretty well camouflaged by a dense cobweb that looked dyed black by half a century of city smog – fuck knew how the asshole had managed that. He’d never have spotted it if he hadn’t caught the whine of tiny servos or something when he passed it. He’d panicked, smashed the thing, torn around the building searching for more. As he bore down on the third, it spoke to him. “Hey Terminator, point’s taken. Quit breaking my stuff. Drop the others in the mailbox and I’ll have them picked up.” He had dropped them in the mailbox. But he’d taken a certain joy in crushing them as small as he could before he did so. Oops. Sorry, Stark. It made him itchy for a while to think of Stark having anything to do with his habitation – hadn’t he turned down a space at the compound because he wanted out of barracks controlled by someone else? But, fuck it, if the nerd had nothing better to do with his billions than pay Bucky’s bills he might as well let him. And now he was back, he didn’t fancy leaving. 

This last week his resolve was being tested. It had started with the smell. He knew the odours of sweat and blood well enough, and he knew that neither had been coming from the back apartment when he left for work. He’d been back there, of course, on his initial homecoming perimeter check and again on his hunt for Stark’s bugs. The place had been as deserted as the rest of the building, inhabited by nothing more sinister than rats, roaches, and a few pigeons. He needed to check again. He also needed to stop and fucking think. He was half way over the sill before he remembered it had taken an hour’s scrubbing for him to get more than a bit of half-assed light through his own apartment’s grimy windows. From the outside? No chance. It would have to be the hallway. 

With the generator humming and the wireless playing (somehow even now he struggled to think of it as the digital gadget it was), giving all the impression that he was still in his own apartment, he edged out into the hall. He winced at the minute change in the air pressure when he opened the door. But the only people likely to drop-by unannounced who would notice something like that would either have taken more care with their smell or would have said hi. Unless it was deliberate bait. Ten feet to the next door. A longer step over the cracked floorboard that had groaned ominously the first time he’d crossed it.  

The smell of the intruder grew stronger as he approached the door. The ancient lock hadn’t given him much difficulty when he took his original look around but the door was heavy and he shifted it with care. He wished he’d thought to oil the hinges, or pulled the door right off them. Aging lino crackled silently beneath his feet. His own heartbeat filled his ears and gradually he remembered how to breathe and move, even blink, in time with it, aligning the sounds he made so anything that fell outside the rhythm would instantly draw his attention. He remained alone with the soundtrack of his own body.  

He knew he was just short of silent as he passed from room to room, every sense trained for the least disturbance... so when the affronted pigeon erupted from behind the bathroom door raising a fetid cloud of feathers and dust, it took him effort not to swallow his own tongue. He tried to inhale as little as possible of the heavily pigeon-laced air while he let his heartrate settle and watched the bird panic at the narrow window until it finally burst out into the gathering evening gloom. The bird’s distress must have been audible to anyone else in the otherwise silent apartment but nothing and no-one stirred. He lowered his guard a degree as he made his way around the few other rooms. His search was thorough, every cupboard opened, the sparse remains of furniture eased away from the walls. No one.  

The thought that it might have been his imagination haunted him from hall to kitchen. He shook the hair from his eyes and touched a cold wrist to his forehead, trying to remember exactly. The smell lingering in the hall. He was sure. Wasn’t he? He shivered. But the air in here felt disturbed, didn’t it? By more than a pigeon and his own cat-like steps? There was a taint on the air – garbage? He crossed, moving more quickly now, to the window that overlooked the alley and its tideless sea of detritus. The smell hit him harder as he stepped into the cold air that hung in front of the window. The glass was uncracked and no draft would be creeping around that deeply dirt-caked frame. He tested the sash. Grime and old paint wouldn’t resist him but it might hold out longer than the decrepit frame. A little more pressure. He hissed between his teeth when the window rose, barely sticking or rattling in its grooves.  

He was crouched below the sill before conscious thought could catch up. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Dumbass.  

How long had he been stood in full view of any of half a dozen rooftops and twice as many windows? Long enough for a whole squad of snipers to take their shots. Again he let his pulse regulate and raised his head a fraction. No one had shot. And as thorough a survey as he could make of the surrounding area, stopping to scrutinise every spot he would have selected for his own firing position, showed him nothing suspicious – not a movement or a shadow out of place. Nothing, in fact, to cause him concern. Until he drew his gaze back into the room, and down over the smear of blood on the peeling paper below the windowsill. He sank down. A knee had brushed the wall as the other leg lifted to the sill. And, yes, now he could see the pattern of new chips in the old paint where a foot had braced. He returned to the blood. A fair stain. The size of his palm. A significant wound, but not enough to keep the victim from climbing or to force them to staunch the blood with a hand. He gave the window another look as he closed it. No trace of a bloody fingerprint. 

Bucky returned to his own apartment troubled. He could nail up the windows as he’d done downstairs. He had enough supplies for that, sure. From his seat where Winnie Barnes’ spotless kitchen table had once stood, he glanced at the stack of salvaged wood in his mom’s bedroom. She’d be spinning in her grave if he didn’t get it cleared out of there soon. And with a bit more work he could probably make the windows virtually unreachable by climbing too.  

He picked up the M38 that stood on its stock beside him and began checking it over again. The thing was... He found himself picturing the boarded up back apartment – dark and silent rooms in which his neighbours had once laughed and rowed and rushed to get out the door for work. The thing was... that, if he forced whoever had gone to the trouble to climb into the second floor of his building to move off permanently, they were unlikely to lose interest. He would either have to hunt them down – so much for the quiet life – or he would be waiting for a bullet through the head or worse until they made themselves known one way or another. That didn’t exactly sound like a peaceful retirement either, did it? And the thing was... he’d felt his heart beating back there.  

Whatever he did about apartment 4, he wasn’t as safe in here as he’d let himself believe for a while. That needed fixing tonight.  

This was his last stop, rucksack already bulging. He heaped the coils of fishing line and bungee cords on the clerk’s desk. The guy’s eyebrows rose when Bucky dropped a couple of handfuls of personal attack alarms on top of the pile. “Stocking fillers. For my self-defence class,” he offered. His cheeks heated a little when the man glanced at the glossy and explicit calendar behind his shoulder which read “February” without offering the least apology for the embarrassment caused. Bucky followed its example and stared blankly, defying contradiction.  

Supplies secured, he disregarded his fire escape and entered by his bedroom window, hauling his way up by the well-concealed handholds he’d made on his way out, scooping out lines of mortar with Vibranium fingertips. He paused on the windowsill to delicately pluck the rudimentary tripwire free and by-pass the edged weaponry that would otherwise have made a spirited attempt to ruin his good looks. He’d considered using a few grenades, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the clean-up. He had enough structural damage to repair around the building as it was. He did a quick round of the other possible entrances, but all were untouched, their makeshift defences untriggered. Finally, he wormed his way up inside the crumbling wall cavity to retrieve one or two personal items he hadn’t been able to leave on display to any sightseer or would-be hit squad but could also not carry freely around Brooklyn, his rifle chief amongst them. He’d read a couple of Stark’s James Bond novels when he’d been insufferably bored in the Tower. Why did that guy’s weapons all fit up a sleeve or his ass or something? When his requisitions came through the British civil service? Stark, SHIELD, and Hydra should all be fucking embarrassed to be lagging so far behind.  

With the limited supplies he’d had on hand, protecting his personal domain had taken precedence. Once he’d made a more professional job of his fortifications, he loaded up some materials and headed back into the corridor. And stopped.  

Something was on the floor outside of number four. Something whose colour and life stood out in the dingy shadows. He went closer and looked down at the leafy plant in its bright striped pot, its three white trumpet-like flowers gazing right back at him. Surely, only a lunatic or a child could like a combination of sunflower yellow, electric blue, and that alarmingly neon pink? A folded paper dropped as he picked up the plant. The handwriting inside was almost as childish as the colour scheme, printed in biro comfortably rounded and neat – something about it made Bucky momentarily picture the writer’s tongue poking out between their teeth as they worked. 

“Hey neighbour, sorry if I bothered you this afternoon. 

Got you a housewarming present as an apology. Hope you like it!” 

It was unsigned, though they’d made no apparent attempt to disguise their handwriting. He glared at the door. It hung slightly askew, and would do – of course – until he was done with the repairs to his own place and made a start on the rest of the apartments. Well, if he was honest with himself, he’d have to get started on his own apartment first of all. Nothing stirred beyond the door. He tucked the note back into the pot and went thoughtfully back up the corridor. He found the plant a spot by a window and stood staring at it for a full minute, waiting for an explosion or maybe some kind of toxic spore cloud – though maybe the latter was kind of cartoonish even for his usual enemies. The plant did nothing sinister. Its dark glossy leaves shone slightly in the light of the sunset.  

Bucky took his M38 up to the roof with him that evening and stayed low for a few minutes, circling in a crouch and checking out his surroundings, but in the end the distant roar of the city lulled him just as it always had. On his third circuit, he touched his fingertips to the chimney stack where he and Steve had scraped their initials, taking turns with Bucky’s new penknife. Smog and pigeons had done their best to obliterate the deep, angular “JBB” and the lighter, neater “SGR”, but Bucky had done his best to restore them the first time he’d come back up here. They’d huddled together against the stack for warmth, watching the stars and hoping Stevie’s dad wouldn’t turn up to drag him home this time, Bucky’s arm usually wrapped round his best friend’s skinny shoulders to stop him shivering. 

He’d dismantled the lower part of the fire escape after his search for the intruder but when it came time to remove their old route to temporary freedom... no, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Fuck it, anyway – anyone determined enough to get onto his roof, with no way to cover the first twenty feet, wouldn’t be put off by a little thing like a missing fire escape. So, he wondered as he settled down with his back to the long-cold chimney and let his gaze wander out over the Hudson, who would got to so much trouble to infiltrate his safe house, just to leave a smear of blood and a goddamn house plant? “Neighbour”? If they were a local, why had he never had any inkling of someone interested in the place? He’d been vigilant enough. Passers-by mostly treated the condemned and wire-fenced pile as though it wasn’t even there. Like it was as invisible to them as it was irrelevant. Just a relic. Hah. A ghost story.  

A last glimpse of the sunset flashed off his fingers. He rolled his shoulders and hissed between his teeth. It was bad tonight, but he would have to do without the pills. If there was still someone prowling around he wouldn’t risk being caught sleeping too deeply. He eased his left shoulder; knotted scar tissue stretched like exposed sinew, raw as a live wire. No, he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. No fear on that score. He tapped his knuckles against the wall and knocked free a triangle of cement. He bounced it on his palm. He and Steve had thrown so many of these it was a wonder there was any building left. Steve’s had almost always fallen short of any mark he chose, of course, though Buck had sworn blind he’d seen them hit more than once when his buddy’s spirits needed a lift. Hundreds had dropped into the alley below, sometimes raising angry shouts that sent them laughing into cover before anyone could spot their faces silhouetted overhead. The fragment exploded into dust against a raised air vent three buildings over and Bucky grinned to himself as he swung over the edge of the roof and returned home.

For @heretherebewolves, my inspiration.

[delta-orionis]

Tuesday Again No Problem 5/14/24

Oops! All Rain World!

Listening

While browsing the Rain World mods page, I found a mod that adds threat music to areas in the game that don't normally have it; they're created by the artist Roasted:

I've been listening to them a bunch. When I get the chance I look forward to downloading the mod and seeing how they sound in-game.

Watching

Not much, honestly. I've been mostly re-watching old commentary youtuber videos that I don't feel like remarking upon. (Honestly it's just background noise for while I play Rain World or crochet...)

Instead I'll link my favorite short video from this week:

Playing

I've been messing around in Rain World's Expedition mode again. I started a new run as Monk but eventually abandoned it when I realized how insurmountably difficult the challenges that involved killing enemies would be. I then switched over to Survivor and I'm doing decently well now.

Making

I continue to tinker with Rain World mods. This week I've been mostly playing around with the in-game dev tools. Changing palettes, adding and removing items and enemies, etc...

I haven't actually made much of anything yet, but I did mess around with palette swapping things in Five Pebbles' General Systems Bus to fit TSAC. I might start editing the actual room layout once I become more familiar with the level editor.

I also added some stars to TSAC's chamber, which seemed appropriate.

I have an idea for a unique Memory Conflux room that I'd like to make in the level editor, so I think I'm going to work on that next. I imagine that is going to be a lot of trial and error.

In other news, I'm almost done with my Looks to the Moon amigurumi! I just want to add a few more details and finish weaving in any loose ends. Then I'll try to get around to taking some pictures of both her and Five Pebbles in proper lighting.

I also started on an amigurumi for Three Stars Above Clouds, because they're my OC and I can render them in yarn form if I want, dammit.

The stars are a little wonky but they were the best I could do... I considered embroidering them but it looked awful (I don't know how to embroider), so I crocheted some tiny stars and sewed them on instead.

I'll have to check, but I think I have all of the right colors of yarn for Seven Red Suns, so maybe I'll give making them a go later. I'll have to think about it.

---

As always, thank you for reading. See you next week!

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

OKAY. I finally managed to carve down an actually simplified version of the offline pocket edition I made for the excellent RPGSolo system. I definitely have more things in mind to expand on as options for players who want them, and this draft is Rough and near entirely unedited because I pounded it out in like half an hour during a migraine, oops, BUT! It should be fully functional as it is currently, and I hope people enjoy it as much as I have been.

(Also, if you like it I encourage you to go give the creator of the original site some support! This wouldn't exist without his work, and there's all kinds of neat extra tools and in-depth explanations to be found there and on the forums. Go check it out!)

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To play, you will need a d100 (percentile dice), a d10, and a Likelihood table. One is provided below, but you may substitute your own percentages if you want to tweak your chances.

• A way to record the events of your game and/or to keep track of bonuses and penalties is recommended, but not required.

RPGSolo runs on the Yes, And/No, But system.

• Yes, and...: Not only is the outcome successful, but it's better than you expected; you are even better off than you would have been from achieving what you meant to do. Situations you are observing turn out to have some extra good news involved, or you gain even more thorough insight than you were looking for at first.

• Yes: You achieve your goal.

• Yes, but...: You achieve your goal, but there's a hitch or it comes at a cost.

• No, but: You fail your goal, but not completely. If you are making an observation, the situation isn't great, but there's a silver lining.

• No: You fail your goal.

• No, and...: Not only is the outcome a failure, but it's even worse than you thought, and/or you're worse off than if you had left it alone.

The Likelihood of a given roll dictates how likely you are to receive one of the above six outcomes. Each Likelihood lists the corresponding results on a scale from 1 to 100.

• No matter the Likelihood you are rolling from, there will always be a chance no matter how small to roll each outcome. Almost Impossible has a tiny chance to roll 'Yes, and...' and Sure Thing has a tiny chance to roll 'No, and...'

Optionally: you may add modifiers to increase or decrease your chances in a given scenario. Your character might be a trained fighter; they might have a sprained ankle; they might have found a flashlight; they may have a bad reputation in town which makes interactions with the townsfolk more hostile.

• Each point on a modifier counts for +1 or -1 Likelihood. A +1 turns a 50/50 into a Somewhat Likely, a -3 turns a Likely into a Somewhat Unlikely, and so on.

• Some modifiers make a bigger difference than others. A friendly demeanor might add a +1 bonus to checks involving interactions with the surly townsfolk, where that sprained ankle might be a -3 penalty to attempts to move quickly.

• Optionally: you may also add modifiers to change the outcome of a roll, not the Likelihood; a 'No, but...' becomes a 'Yes, but...' for example. These have a much stronger influence on your game, and you may want to use them sparingly.

• You may assign modifiers to your player characters--or other characters, or locations, or anything else--ahead of time, or you may add or remove modifiers during play as you feel they are appropriate.

At the beginning of each turn, decide what action you want to take, what observations you want to make, or what happens in the world around you.

Roll 1d10 to determine the difficulty of an action.

• 1: Almost Impossible

• 2: Very Unlikely

• 3: Unlikely

• 4: Somewhat Unlikely

• 5: 50/50

• 6: Somewhat Likely

• 7: Likely

• 8: Very Likely

• 9: Sure Thing

• 10: Reroll with +1 bonus (or just reroll, if you'd rather)

Add any appropriate modifiers to determine the Likelihood of the roll.

If you check the Likelihood of a roll and don't like your chances, you can choose not to pursue it.

• If there are any rolls you might want to come back to and try again later, you may want to make a note of it on the side. You might decide to leave a door with an alarm alone until you can find some tools to disarm it with, for example.

If you decide to proceed, roll 1d100 and consult the appropriate Likelihood table.

Add any appropriate outcome modifiers to determine the result.

Decide how to interpret the result.

• In case of wording you're not sure of ('do the guards notice me?' for example), a lower outcome is generally negative. You may want to write out the translated result next to the 'yes, and/no, but' result, for the sake of clarity.

• If you're rolling to decide between multiple options instead of for negative/positive outcomes, you may use your d10 as a yes/no oracle, or use 'yes, and/no, but' to roll for the degree to which the result falls between the presented options.

• Oracle between 2 options:

• 1-5: No/First option

• 6-10: Yes/Second option

• Oracle between 3 options:

• 1-3: No/First Option

• 4-6: Neither/Both/In-Between/Second option

• 7-9: Yes/Third option

• 10: Reroll, or secret fourth option

If you want to make more than one roll to determine what's going on before you continue the narrative, feel free to make as many in a row as you want before you describe what happens.

Optionally: you can use a Do-Over to redo a roll, or directly choose your outcome, if you really don't want to continue with what you got.

• It's recommended that you limit the number of these you have access to, if you want to keep some challenge in your game (5 Do-Overs per scene, for example), but you don't have to. You can do it as many times as you want; it comes down to what's most fun for you.

Write out what happens as a result of the outcome you rolled, until you reach the next point where you want the dice to show you the way.

Happy roleplaying!

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Likelihood Table

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Almost Impossible/Sure Thing:

-No, and...: 30% (1-30) [...] 1% (1)

-No: 50% (31-80) [...] 3% (2-4)

-No, but...: 11% (81-91) [...] 5% (5-9)

-Yes, but...: 5% (92-96) [...] 11% (11-19)

-Yes: 3% (97-99) [...] 50% (20-69)

-Yes, and: 1% (100) [...] 30% (70-100)

Very Unlikely/Very Likely:

-No, and...: 20% (1-20) [...] 3% (1-3)

-No: 40% (21-60) [...] 5% (4-8)

-No, but...: 20% (61-80) [...] 12% (9-20)

-Yes, but...: 12% (81-92) [...] 20% (21-40)

-Yes: 5% (93-97) [...] 40% (41-80)

-Yes, and...: 3% (98-100) [...] 20% (81-100)

Unlikely/Likely:

-No, and...: 15% (1-10) [...] 5% (1-5)

-No: 30% (11-50) [...] 10% (6-15)

-No, but...: 20% (51-70) [...] 20% (16-35)

-Yes, but...: 20% (71-85 [...] 20% (36-55)

-Yes: 10% (85-95) [...] 30% (56-85)

-Yes, and...: 5% (96-100) [...] 15% (86-100)

Somewhat Unlikely/Somewhat Likely:

-No, and...: 10% (1-10) [...] 10% (1-10)

-No: 30% (11-40) [...] 20% (11-30)

-No, but...: 20% (41-60) [...] 10% (31-40)

-Yes, but...: 10% (61-70) [...] 20% (41-60)

-Yes: 20% (71-90) [...] 30% (61-90)

-Yes, and...: 10% (91-100) [...] 10% (91-100)

50/50:

No, and...: 10% (1-10)

No: 20% (11-30)

No, but...: 20% (31-50)

Yes, but...: 20% (51-70)

Yes: 20% (71-90)

Yes, and...: 10% (91-100)