#mini-pitch in a backyard

[evernest]

Indoor football or arena soccer, or five-a-side football in the United State of America. This is a game derived from association football adapted for play in an indoor. Indoor soccer is faster, smaller, and more intensive than outdoor games. Players develop key skills including positioning, off-the-ball movement, and individual attacking & defending. Indoor fields are smaller than outdoor fields, and the number of players on the pitch is significantly less.

At Urban Soccer Park, we know sports can change lives and transform communities. That’s why we are committed to providing quality fields that are accessible, affordable, and, most importantly, offer an exciting and engaging experience. Urban Soccer Park is a unique combination of sport and court that allows both players and spectators to be immersed in a fast-paced, high-energy game. Soccer is the beating heart of countless cultures worldwide, but in the U.S., we’ve been hindered too long by limited space or substandard facilities. Urban Soccer Park helps remove these barriers by providing efficient, professional-grade fields customized to any space. Help us meet soccer demands in your neighborhood with an Urban Soccer Park, and see your community thrive.

Urban Soccer Park is a unique combination of sport and court that allows both players and spectators to be immersed in a fast-paced, high-energy game. Help us meet soccer demands in your neighborhood with an Urban Soccer Park, and see your community thrive. At Urban Soccer Park less is more. How do we know less is more? Why are we so confident in mini-soccer pitches? Because, 5-A-Side Soccer Fields grow the sport, create life-long enjoyment of the game, and develop world-class skills. Because everyone at USP is a coach.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Coach Burrow

Pairing: Dad!Joe Burrow x Nurse!WifeReader

Description: Joe gets offered his favorite job yet!

Warnings: Fluffy, but suggestive towards the end ;)

Word Count: 2.4k

Main Masterlist

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °

Life after the NFL wasn’t that much different for Joe Burrow. The 4x SuperBowl MVP was practically handed an elite coaching position the second he announced his retirement. So yea, not much is different from when he started all those years ago.

“MOM, where’s dad? We need him ASAP! MOM!” Your 6th grade son, Leo shouted running into the house.

Ok some things are different.

“HEY NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE! Take your shoes off please.” Rolling your eyes at the boy and his friend as they removed their muddy cleats then continued their rampage. You’d spent the entire afternoon cleaning the house and doing the laundry so when you left for your 13 hour shift tonight you wouldn’t have to worry about your kids not having anything to wear or your husband having to focus on anything but work and your 4 kids. So you were not letting some 11 year olds mess it up.

 That's when you realized it was only 4:30, “hey!”

The two middle schoolers stop just before entering the backyard and turn to face you in the kitchen. 

“Aren‘t you two supposed to be at practice? Why’d you take the bus?” You ask.

“Our coach was fired!” Chris, Leo’s partner in crime exclaims with a smile.

“Okay, that doesn’t answer the running in my house or the smile on your faces.” Your forehead creases looking at the overly giddy kids.

“We want dad to take his place.” Well that makes sense. 

“Ok what makes you think he has time to coach both your team and Ohio State’s?” Joe’s job is flexible, but not that flexible.

“Easy, he goes to work from 9 to 4 and comes home at the same time practice is. So if he was our coach he could change our practice time from 4:30 to 5. BOOM he has time.” They say will full confidence in their plan.

If only he’d put that much effort into his math homework. But you give them credit for putting it together in such a short notice.

You chuckle and wave them off to pitch their idea to your husband of 15 years.

The boys find your husband outside “playing” around with his new grill. 

“Dad!” The man turns around confused at his youngest son’s voice.

“Leo, what are you doing home? Chris does your mom know you’re not at practice?” He pulls the lid down on the grill and gives his best ‘dad glare.’

“We came to get you! We need a new coach! And we want it to be you.” They plead.

Joe smirks and crosses his built arms. “Oh yea? Give me one good reason why I should be your coach?”

The boys look at each other a bit panicked, so they discuss it in a little huddle that makes Joe smile. 

When they break, Joe puts back on his serious facade. 

“Ok dad here’s our offer, if you agree to be our coach, I’ll get all A’s this year.” 

The dad’s brows raise in a surprised and impressed way.  

Truth is, Joe knew all about their coach’s departure. Over a week ago, the school sent an email to him personally asking if he could fill the position temporarily or even permanently. He said he’d have to check with his family before making any decisions. 

Yesterday they decided to inform him that a number of other dads/ supporters had already applied so there’d be a formal try out today at 5. 

The boys walked into the house at 4:30 and all he’d been waiting for was his son’s approval.

“You know what bud, I’ll gladly take you up on that offer.” He says shaking his mini-me’s hand. The shake quickly turns into him being ‘dragged’ into the house.

“We gotta go! You need to be there right now.” Joe just shakes his head and grabs his keys.

“I see you didn’t take much convincing.” You give him a knowing look as he walks around the kitchen counter to where you’re seated.

He chuckles, “I may have had some insider knowledge of the situation. But here’s the kicker, he agreed to make all A’s if I tried out.” Your husband smiles widely knowing how hard you’ve been trying to get the 11 year old to take his schooling seriously.

You scrunch your face as he pecks both cheeks before placing a much deeper kiss to your lips that you can’t help but reciprocate. 

“Mom… dad that’s gross, we need to go it’s 4:45!” Leo whines causing you to separate from his father.

“Yea go kick butt Shiesty!” You wink as he’s pulled out of the house laughing.

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

When the boys get to the field they are surprised by the sight of your 14 year old twins, Malia and Miles, standing by the fence.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite firstborns, what are you doing here?” Joe asked giving them side hugs, the only acts of affection they’ve allowed him to show outside the house.

“I wanted to get burgers, but was dragged here by her.” Miles dead tones.

Malia rolls her eyes. “I came to fill out your application for coach so you’re welcome, please come up with an adequate ‘daughter’s appreciation day’ present to thank me.” She smiles, Joe snorts at teenager.

“Are you sure you’re my daughter because that was all your mother? Thank you for helping out Lia and Miles…” The young boy shrugs. “Exactly. You guys plan on staying until we’re done or do I need to call mom?”

“We’ll stay, I wanna see the looks on the other dads’ faces when they see you.” Miles replies rubbing his hands together.

“I guess I’m staying too.” Malia shrugs.

“Ok then.” 

The tryouts had barely already started by the time Joe finally got to the field and just as Miles anticipated, the reactions were priceless.

“Mr. Evans, he’s here!” Leo yells running onto the field. His wild presence causes everyone look in his direction. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“The kid’s dad is Joe Burrow?!”

“I don’t know if I should be honored or scared.”

“We should all just leave now, he has 4 rings.”

Leo’s teacher, Mr. Evans shakes the former quarterback’s hand and welcomes him onto the field. 

“Mr. Burrow, it’s good to see you again.”

“Please call me Joe, it’s nice to be able to come out.” He says.

“Of course Joe, you’re right on time too. Would you like to introduce yourself to everyone?”

Joe nodded, “yea of course.” Then turned towards his competitors. “Hey guys I’m Joe, Leo’s dad. I guess I kind of played for a bit, but that’s all behind me now.” He chuckles.

“If played for a bit means leading the best team in LSU history to an undefeated championship then going from ‘the underdog’ of the NFL to a future hall of famer with 4 SuperBowl rings? Than the rest of us haven’t even heard of the game.” Will, Chris’ dad scoffed. Joe patted his long time friend on the back then joined him in line.

“Ok so first we’re going to test your football knowledge then see how well you coach other kids, not your own.” Evans claps his hands and they get to work.

By the end of the first round, half of the applicants have been dismissed and unsurprisingly Joe leads the pack going into the second round. 

“You know this isn’t fair right?” Will says in between rounds.

Joe sighs, “you do realize Leo and Chris practically tracked mud through the house just to get me here right?” Then smirks as the other guy rolls his eyes.

“Hey what if we made it fair?” 

Will looks at him intrigued, “I’m listening.”

“Split the job, we already know it’s going to come down to us. So what do you say, partners?” Joe suggests.

“Damn Burrow,” Will instantly agrees. “I don’t know how you stay so humble.” He laughs.

Joe just points to his fan club on the bleachers. “Chris is your oldest, so you don’t even know the degree of humility teenagers will teach you but my wife helps also helps with that.” 

When the men line back up for the rest of try outs, all of the other guys had already left.

Then Mr. Evans walks up to them. “So, I think it’s pretty clear who’s going to get the position.”

“Actually, we’ve decided to split it.” Will leads, the teacher looks to Joe confused.

“Yup, it would actually work out better if both of us share responsibility. There’s a lot of benefits to having two coaches, plus we’re doing it for free.” 

Mr. Evans couldn’t argue against the offer so he just shook their hands.

“Alright Coach Burrow and Coach Williams. Welcome to the Wildcats.”

❀。• *₊ meanwhile at the house °。 ❀°。

“Mommy, I need help...” 

You had just finished putting on your scrubs before your 6 year old started crying bloody murder. “What is it my love?” 

Walking into her My Little Pony room you scanned every crevice for threats, but only landed on the young girl sitting on her floor with a notebook.

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

You melted at the cute pout on her face as she pointed to her math book. “Jazzy, babygirl. Are the fractions giving you a hard time?” She nodded her head, you checked your watch (5:15) and decided to join her on the floor.

“Ok I have some spare time to help you on a few, but when daddy gets home I have to go work okay pretty girl?” She happily nodded and scooched herself into your lap. 

For the next 20 minutes you simply watched and fiddled with your daughter’s dark curls as she studied her math. It became very clear within seconds that she just wanted to be with her mother as she didn’t ask any questions about the material. 

Being a charge nurse meant your hours were more unpredictable, especially at your hospital. Most nurses worked 12 hour shifts but you were currently understaffed so you took it upon yourself to be a leader and help your team. You usually worked 3 overnight shifts a week, so you could be there when the kids get home from school. Even though you were home more often than not, there are times when your babies need you, so if one of them wanted more time with you there was no way you were going to reject them of that opportunity.

While you and your youngest were cuddled up on the ground in your own little world, Joe and his fan club arrived right on time for dinner. 

“I’m starving, why couldn’t we stop for burgers?” Miles groaned throwing his backpack onto the couch.

Joe picked up the bag and put it back in his son’s hands. “Because even though she didn’t have to, your mother cooked before her shift. So you’re going to take your stuff upstairs and get washed up for dinner.” He gave him a pointed look and dismissed the teenager.

“Wow, I can’t wait to deal with that.” Joe shook his head and led his friend to the kitchen.

“You have no idea. I love my kids, but the older they get the more of me I see in them. It would cool when all he wanted to do was throw the football around, but now the stubbornness gene is really coming to bite me in the ass.” He snorted while warming up their dinner.

“How’s he doing with that, has he made varsity yet?” Will asks as the kids make their way downstairs.

“He’s good for a sophomore but not there yet. If he put more of his time into practice instead of chasing cheerleaders he could be better.” He responds just as the boy rounds the corner.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game dad. I got Becky Jackson’s number in third period, nothing’s stopping me now.” He smiles taking his place at the table.

“What happened to Marissa? I thought she was nice.” Joe chuckles as his wife joins the crew. 

“You know how he is babe.” You give him a quick kiss wrapping your arms around him.

“Yea mom, he’s for the streets.” 

“I am not for the streets! At least I have a date.”

You shake your head and slowly make your rounds. You quickly greet Will, grab your work and dinner bags, kiss the kids and walk with Joe to the front door. 

“You’re really going to leave me in this chaos.” He sighs his hands still holding yours.

“I heard my teacher was for the streets.”

“What’s for the streets?”

You smirk against his chest, “oh I think you got this Shiesty, this is nothing compared to your O Line in those early years.”

His hands quickly drop your hands and find your waist. “Ok alright I see how you want this to go.” His voice low against your ear.

“What, I’m simply saying your risks for injury are dramatically lower.” Your arms go around his neck as he backs you into the corner out of your children’s vision, then a hand on your waist moves to grip the meat of your ass. You bite your lip as a low moan muffles against his chest.

“You think you’re funny. If it was just us right now, I’d show your ass what being funny gets you. But when you get back, you’re all mine mama.” He groans nipping your ear then pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. You moan into his soft yet bruising lips, pulling him in further. 

“Oh god, Jazmine close your eyes.” 

You both sigh as the giggles from your permanent cockblockers acknowledge their existence to you. 

“I’m sending them to my parents tomorrow.” 

“Do that and we might end up adding to the population.” You chuckle pulling away from your husband, who raises his brows at your comment. 

“Don’t tempt me, you know exactly how I like you.” He playfully slaps your behind. “Kids, say goodnight to mom!”

You shake your head at him while being engulfed in hugs. “I love you, I’ll see you when you get home from school.”

“Bye momma..” The chorus sings.

They return to the table and you turn back to a smirking Joe. “See you tomorrow beautiful.” You blush hugging him once more before opening the door.

“Goodnight Coach Burrow, can’t wait practice with you tomorrow.” You wink as his eyes cerulean eyes darken then shut the door.

“Fuck, who said 5 kids was too many.”

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

A/N: Looks like a bitch came back to life! My trip was nice but not writing for so long killed me. Can’t wait to see how much gets posted in the next week

Xoxo Babe

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and treasured ♡

[jolapeno]

19. charming blue

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nineteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: next week is the epilogue, and I'm crying in the club rn.

prev chapter | series masterlist

read on ao3

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s been almost a year.

A thing you think to yourself as you drag the tip of your paintbrush across the cheek of the sixth child at your little homemade stand, nestled on the edge of Sam’s backyard.

It had only been built last night. You and Frankie had been inspired by lemonade stands, ignoring his mutterings about Pinterest as the two of you rummaged in his workshop, scavenging enough wood to bring it to life. Dragging bits and scraps, a saw in hand as you cut things to size, laughing as you begin grunting with each back and forth—

“Alright beaver, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Morales. I'm only eager for your wood.”

You’re grateful the bruise on your hip is still healing. The one gained from a mandatory break between coats of paint, his finger wrapping two of your fingers in a bandaid. Soft kisses to the tips of them before those same kisses were on your mouth, on your neck, traipsing down your collarbone. That's when you'd caught the edge of his workbench, fingers busy with his belt, a clang, whoosh and then an ouch.

Now, dipping and swirling the paintbrush in the murky water, you feel the pain flare when you shift—hand occasionally brushing over it. A private smile forms, buried easily when another child requests the same animal.

Then, when the stripes and whiskers are complete, you can’t help but grin at the high-pitched thank you that follows, watching the child skip off, shouting to anyone who’ll hear them that they’re a lion too now—at a dinosaur-themed birthday.

Carefully, covering the orange paint, you place the lid back over the others so they don't dry out. The air is full of squeals, sugar practically on the tip of your tongue from the at-home cotton candy machine Sam's cousin is operating. You lift your head, squinting still through the shades you borrowed from Frankie to see that said cousin had given up putting it on a stick, and was instead shoving balls of it into the hands of already excitable and sugar-filled children.

Shaking your head, cleaning your hands on a rag that was now a canvas of colours, going from a pale pink to an assortment of shades, you laugh if only to yourself. Pushing the aviators up your nose, the warm plastic familiar against your skin, and catch a whiff of Frankie's cologne lingering on them—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him.

You had known the two of you were inching towards a year, but it had been Frankie who had brought it up first.

Whispering it against your bare shoulder yesterday morning, asking if he could take you for lunch with a kiss to your hip—having booked a table, reserved the same spot the two of you had sat at during your second date. Only this time, you took in the place even more—hand in hand—from the plants to the decor. You were less nervous than that first time, more comfortable, letting him order a range of mini plates so the two of you could sample a variety of things.

Your fork extended over the table, watching him try to chase the food you had told him he should try, before his fingers—thick, dexterous, that somehow still make your stomach flip—wrap around your wrist so he can place the fork between his teeth.

“We should come here more often,” you had said, him taking your hand in his, thumb brushing over the place between your knuckles.

“We should.”

“You gonna kiss me like you did that first time?”

Licking his lips, swiping a finger through the lingering sauce. “Can do so much more than a kiss, Rainy.”

Sighing, content—finding it hard not to smile—you glance around as the memory fades into Luca's backyard birthday party.

How laughter echoes around the fence panels, blending roughly with the music and occasionally intercepted by a squeal that makes you wince behind your shades. And you wouldn't change it, any of it. Your heart even doubles when you see Luca grinning and waving at you, as you return it before he's running off once again.

“Brought you this.”

Looking up, squinting in the sun, you see the inflated dinosaurs behind him jiggle and move in the warm breeze. Dressed in a green polo, a new fake T-Rex sticker on his cheek, you curl into his touch as his hand spreads across your shoulder.

“Oh? So you’re not here to have your face painted, Morales.”

“Not one bit—makes me itchy.”

“Not very party of you.”

Smiling, he massages a particular spot that could turn you into goo. You press a kiss to his sun-kissed arm, inhaling the scent of his sunscreen—a blend of coconut and tropical flowers that instantly transported you back to your day at the beach, laughing and holding hands as the waves crashed around you. Staring up, you want to brush your fingers through his hair, feel his curls shifting and dancing in the breeze.

“It seems to be holding up well. The stand.”

Smirking, doing a little shrug. “Yeah, it's doing good. Must have been that DIY video.”

Scoffing, it forming from the back of his throat and exiting his mouth quickly, you swear he rolls his eyes. “Wasn't the video.”

“No?”

His fingers still massaging, working the place between your neck and shoulder, jaw tight, eyes fixed on something ahead as he grumbled, “Didn't need it.”

You hum, resting your head against him, smiling, all easy, without a care in the world. “Sometimes, videos aren't all bad though, are they?”

His chin dips, your eyes fixing on the place you think his stare will be behind his own shades. Wondering, hoping he's thinking of the first time you met. The video, the one he'd made you show him so he has some semblance of an idea of what you were trying to do.

“Sometimes. I'll give you that.”

“You think next year it’ll be at yours? The party?”

He draws a circle, one that shifts into a square and then back again. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll be at ours.”

“We do need to finish that conversation.”

Humming, he smiles, lowering his mouth down to meet yours as you hear him whisper, “We do” at the same time as you both distantly hear Luca screaming for him.

“I think you’re being summoned.”

“Swear my kid is cockblocking me from finishing this conversation with you.”

“Maybe it’s an omen.”

Tapping you, you smirk—biting your lip as he grins. “Do me a favour.”

Letting him hold the back of your neck as you tip, his fingers gripping just lightly. “Anything, baby.”

“If I’m not off that in five minutes, stab it with something so it deflates.”

Smirking, you brush your fingers over his back as he kisses the top of your head. You watch him run off to the bounce house, unable to stop yourself from grinning, feeling nothing but joy as he charges in and roars.

Adjusting the party hat atop your head, you glance over and spot Sam, who mouths a thank you for the millionth time today before pointing at the buffet. You shake your head.

You’re not sure you can eat another pizza roll if you tried, but you don’t say no when she points at the cupcakes beside it.

The second cupcake is being devoured when you carry in some of the presents an hour later, placing them in the room marked Luca’s. It is so vastly different from the one at Frankie’s, yet still holds the same charm. The colours are different, if not reversed in how they’re used, the love of dinosaurs smothering everywhere it can in a similar fashion to his.

Admiring, letting your eyes wander across the photographs on the top of the little cubbies, the ones that hold multicoloured tubs with sticky labels highlighting their contents. In each frame, the people shift, from Sam and Luca to Frankie, Sam and Luca, Luca and what you assume are his grandparents, but the smile, the grin never changes. It just grows, gets bigger with him as more hair curls atop his head and his hands get larger as he waves at the camera.

“You hiding from me?” Looking over your shoulder, you find Frankie walking towards you, hands sliding around your waist as he rests his head against yours. “Well, I found you.”

“Is this the part where I scream?”

Snorting, he kisses your cheek. “If you want a bunch of tiny lions coming and stealing me again, be my guest.”

Leaning against him, fingers tracing over his, feeling his knuckles, the healed scratches and rough parts. “Hey, did you build these?” you ask, resting your head on him, his chin resting on you. “They’re like the ones at yours…”

You hear him swallow, before he shrugs. “Maybe.”

Tilting your head, staring at him, finding his eyes have flicked down even if his head is still in the same position. “Has anyone told you that you’re good at this—at making things with your hands?”

His chest fills with a breath before he slowly exhales. “I try.”

Fingers, all instinctive, slide around his chin, tug his chin down, eyes unable to not stare into yours. “I mean it. You’re really good at what you do, Frankie.”

One side of his mouth slides into his cheek, before he takes your hand, kissing your wrist. “C’mon, before there’s a search party.”

Clutching his wrist, keeping him in place. “I love you, you know?”

His lips slide into his cheek as he closes the gap, his fingers cradling your face tenderly. “I know,” he whispers, his eyes soft and full of wonder, as if he's hearing it for the first time, before he presses a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, sealing the words against your mouth.

I don’t know who is running your social account but they’re very witty.

They are. They make me laugh.

Yes, I’ve heard they have a good mouth on them.

Did you know that they’re also beautiful and very cute in the morning?

Should I be worried? They sound like a keeper.

Jealous?

Depends, are you going to make them a coffee using your complicated machine?

Maybe. They’re a bit moody without caffeine.

I’m beginning to feel offended.

I will say that you were right about scheduling them—it has helped.

Is that you saying I’m right?

Maybe.

I’ve screenshotted that as evidence.

Do you want a coffee bringing when I come to yours?

Is that a bribe to delete the evidence? Either way, that would be nice.

Good, might have already made you one in your cup.

You spoil me, Butterscotch.

It's hard not to fidget—moving from standing to pacing, to leaning.

Currently, you're back to standing in the place where the sun streams in through the open back door, casting warm, golden light across the kitchen floor, and your feet as it gently warms you—until you get too hot again.

The gentle breeze continues to bring in the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of distant lawnmowers which add a somewhat comforting background to the quiet afternoon. But neither do anything to stem the growing worries in your stomach, the ones climbing, doubling—

Sliding your hand around your glass, the ice cubes clink softly, slowly melting and leaving a ring of condensation on the counter. You sip the cold water, letting it cool your nerves. The anticipation builds, each second stretching as you glance at the clock, knowing he'll be here any moment.

It doesn’t work, not even as you take in a deep breath.

Trying to will tranquillity and calm to shower down over your shoulders as you glance at the clock, realising he’ll be here any moment.

And it makes your heart pound. Forces your palms to become a little more clammy as you place the glass down in its puddle.

You’ve rehearsed this. Gone over it in your head, running a hand down your outfit to flatten it—as though that would be the thing that could ruin this. Even if you’ve gone over every detail of this surprise a million times. Yet, standing in the quiet kitchen, you can’t help but second-guess everything.

What if he doesn’t like it?

What if he thinks you’ve overstepped?

What if, what if, what if—

Shaking your head, you jumble the doubts. Shake them to some other part like a snow globe, taking a reprieve from them before they flutter back down. Allowing yourself the brief chance to remind yourself why you’ve done this, why you're doing this.

Because you love him. Because you believe in him—

Taking in another deep breath, fingers flexing at your side, you force yourself to focus on the positive outcome you’ve imagined so many times, rather than the others.

Like him storming out.

Like him staring at you in outrage, questioning why, what gave you the right.

But then, this is him.

Your Frankie. The one who never needs the heating, because he’s always several degrees warmer than you, a thing you hate when he’s not sharing a bed with you—when he’s not pulling you close and whispering against your skin that he’ll keep you warm.

Or, your Frankie who grunts if he’s not awake before you, needing coffee, or breakfast. Tugging you close as he curls you under him, burying his face in your neck as he grunts that it’s too early—even if he deep down knows it isn’t.

The man who goes quieter when he’s tired, who dislikes bumper-to-bumper traffic and hammers his thumbs on the steering wheel in protest of it; who might be fiercely protective, but has never stormed out or raised his voice—so why would this even be a worry you’d have.

You jolt at the echoed familiar sound of a key turning in the front door, a flutter of excitement mingling with a rush of nerves as your thoughts fade, vanish. Replacing it with nothingness, a barren wasteland of quiet worry.

And each noise you can hear makes it worse. Makes you feel sick, nauseous, sweaty and lightheaded. Your fingers clamping to the counter for leverage—

"Hello?" he calls out, his voice carrying through the open rooms. You hear the door close behind him, the soft clink of keys as he puts them down.

"In here," you reply, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Frankie appears in the doorway, his face lighting up as he sees you. "Hey," he says, crossing the room to wrap you in a warm embrace. "What’s this? You look like you’ve got something up your sleeve."

You smile, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Maybe I do," you tease, your heart racing a little faster.

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What’s my surprise?"

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards him, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers with curiosity as his eyes drop to the paper.

Everything you rehearsed, fades, goes.

It’s like trying to grasp water, it just slides through your fingers as your hand hovers over the paper, flattening it, pressing it to the counter as though willing it to vanish. You’re thrumming, vibrating, unsure if you’ll even be able to keep your voice level as you clear your throat.

“So, you can totally rip this to pieces—but, happy six years.”

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards Frankie, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers as his eyes drop to the paper as you begin talking, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I know it’s late, and I know it was a bit ago, but firstly, just know I love you. And I love what you do—all of it. Harolds, Instagram...”

Tilting his head, a flash of nervousness ripples out across his face. “Rainy, you’re making me nervous.”

Shaking your arms out, you smile. “Don’t be. I can be nervous, you can’t be.”

“Oh, is that how this goes.”

Grinning, you nod. His hand takes yours, his other trailing up and down your forearm as he stares into your eyes—as though trying to have a conversation with your soul. Almost commanding you to breathe, to take a second, both things you do before licking your lips.

“You’re so good with your hands—” You don’t miss his snort, “and at DIY, at renovating. That room in there, it’s beautiful, everything I thought I ever wanted.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion crossing his features.

“You’re good at it. So good. People are reaching out to you and you don’t even have the time.”

“I know, I just—”

“Let me finish, please baby.”

You take another deep breath, trying not to shift nervously on the spot. Sliding the paper closer to him, you press on. “You can say no. We can pretend I never did this, never even brought it up. I don’t want to be someone who makes you do something you don’t want to do, but I also don’t want to be someone who doesn’t support you, who doesn’t champion you and make you feel like you can.”

“Rainy… what’s going on?”

Biting your lip, you exhale loudly. “Turn it over.”

And he does. Dropping his hand from your fingers to do so.

All you can do is watch.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as he does so. Your heart thumping into your ribs, anxiety rippling and spreading out as it turns over and you see the moment his eyes spot it, take it in.

His eyes gaze up and down the paper, taking in the logo you’ve spent weeks on. The one with a new name, with ‘by Frank.DIY’ in the corner. Raindrops in the top corner, for you, and a flash of orange for butterscotch; tools and a house with a broken roof, details that he might not notice at first glance, but you hope he will on further ones.

Then there’s just silence.

Unreadable, bubbling silence that makes you shift. Makes your inside knot and twist as you try to give him a moment, a minute. Failing.

“I remember you told me you didn’t think you deserved to own anything. And I know you, and the others, faced a lot before I even knew your name. But, Frankie, I’m here to prove you otherwise—when you’re ready.”

His face lifts to you, the paper under his hand, fingers outstretched over it, a look so nondescript on his face that your pulse begins to pound in your ears.

Mouth falling open, you want to ask him to speak, to say something, but you’re not sure you can find the words. Having prepared for anger, for joy, but not something in the middle that was hard to label or describe.

Less so when he places the paper down. When he stands, and you subconsciously mirror him—his hand scratching the back of his neck, skin turning a shade of pink you hadn’t banked on.

“I should… I should give you a moment, right?”

Moving, stepping out from behind your side of the counter, fidgeting, moving slowly as you try to find words and form thoughts to choose a place to go hide in.

“I crossed a line, and I’m—”

He doesn’t let you go far, fingers sliding around your wrist, tugging, pausing you in your step. And it’s silent, just covered by your slight heavy breathing as your teeth nip at the skin of your lips, as your other fingers twitch nervously at your side—desperate to pick, to scratch. To anything to root—

Then, he’s pulling you flush to him, lips crashing to yours in a way that steals both your breath and your worries.

“I’m sorry, Frankie—”

His palm cups your cheeks, and tilts you to look at him. “You really believe in me.”

Heart settling, warmth spreading. “Absolutely, Frankie. I always have.” The look he gives you undoes you, makes the worries melt and instead be consumed by the need to comfort. “Have done since you measured my office without even using a measuring tape.”

Swallowing, with difficulty, he tries to smile at your joke. “I can't... I can't believe you made me this... Baby, it’s so good.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. No, sorry—no. Overwhelmed, maybe?”

Smiling, nodding, you swallow. “Yeah, I didn’t—should have done more of a speech.”

Laughing, his eyes close, the tip of his nose brushing yours, just keeping you there, fixed, paused. Your hands slowly rise to stroke at the underside of his forearms, just like he did—the paper there, turned upright on the counter.

“Tell me.”

Two words he’s begun to say more when he can hear the cogs turning—when he can tell that there’s more bursting and bobbing around your mind.

“Frankie…”

“I know you. So, tell me.”

Sighing, you avert your eyes, when he taps your arm and you take his hand, leading him into your living room, sitting, finding further proof that it doesn’t feel half as warm as his—not even close to as comfortable.

Taking a breath, you smile. “The other week, when you asked me if I’d live with you. If you meant what you said, I’d love to live with you.” Your free hand, the one not inside his on his bent knee, raises, pausing. “But we don’t have to sell here, I’m not sure we’d make much, and that’s a decision to make to—”

“Rainy.”

Nodding, you take another breath. “Now, this is all hypothetical. It’s your choice—”

Smiling, he tightens the hold on your hand. “Ours.”

Rolling your lips, sighing. “Ours. But, we could use this house for your business—keep things here. Operate meetings from the office because it is too beautiful not to use—and you’ve worked too hard on it not to show it off. Or we can sell here, use the little that’s from it to set you up one of those summer house things so you can work from that.”

“I can’t leave Harold.”

Biting your lip briefly, you smile, tipping your chin. “He thought you’d say that.”

Brows lifting, Frankie slowly frowns.

“He's got a real eye for things—helped me with the logo quite a bit. Gave me some constructive feedback—as did the boys. I never told them what it was, but…”

“That was what Will almost dropped you in on at the fight.”

Grinning, you squeeze his hand. “I could have kicked him. Will guessed what I was doing first, I had only asked a question—but I just told them you’d mentioned rebranding. But he guessed and then he helped where he could. He's been looking at getting on your truck for you.”

Frankie laughs, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head as his nostrils flare.

“And when I nipped in to grab those bits for you, I asked Harry about working there—jokingly. I think that’s when he caught on,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t think I’m good at surprises. But he brought it up, me working with him, that day I helped?”

“Baby…”

“Anyway, I could take your place, Harold’s would be covered still, and then when I can, I can help you—probably just with painting, think if we did any woodworking I’d slow us down.”

Frankie snorts, fingers scratching at the curls above his forehead. “I can’t ask you to give up your job.”

“You’re not. I… Frankie, I like what I do, but only sometimes. I’m burnt out. You even asked the other week if it was making me happy, and it isn’t. And, look, I’m not saying it’s forever, but for now, I can do it when I choose to, be picky. I can be an extra pair of hands when you need it, helping you get off the ground, and can use the discount when needed for little bits.”

His other hand comes over the top of the ones linked, eyes soft, gentle, and sweet.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it. It’s your choice—you deserve a choice, Frankie. And if you don’t use the logo, that’s fine, but I will put it on a flask for when I make you lunches.”

Laughing, he dips his head, before lifting it to meet yours. “If I choose not to do it, will you still move in with me?”

“Are you finally, really asking me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, tilting his head to the side, he nods.

You smile, leaning closer, arms wrapping around his neck. “Well, I would love to move in with you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah. Because if it's not clear, there's not a thing I want more than a future with you, Butterscotch.”

TO THE EPILOGUE ->

do not be alarmed, we still have the epilogue. but, long time fans will know that jo is more emotional at the chapter prior to the epilogue than the epilogue. this is where my goodbye begins.

firstly, thank you. to every single person who gave me a chance to tell a hardware!frankie story, for letting rainy into your hearts, and for letting this become what it is. this is the longest thing I've written in years, and a reminder of the reason why i love writing so much.

this entire thing wouldn't be possible without @secretelephanttattoo and i will be forever grateful for her pushing me to do this, especially when i think she could tell i was swirling down a drainhole with something else. it was a raft, those cute rings you throw when someone is drowning, so thank you, my dear friend.

and, this entire thing wouldn't be what you love, if it wasn't for the encouragement from @goodwithcheese. who each week began her excitement that made me giddy, from guess the paint shade to letting me share with her my big plans for this chapter first. when i thought i was losing the path, she reminded me the path was very much there, i just needed to take a breath.

and then finally, a special thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who holds my hand a lot more than you lot thing. who read the first chapter of this when we met and got so excited with me i had to really hold back tears.

to my darling @morallyinept who told me she loves my frankie, you don't know what those words did for me on a day where i almost walked away, to the amazing and brilliant @toomanytookas who understood rainy on a level that we can both share, and to @covetyou my lo <3 for being there every week and also for understanding how conflicted and odd i feel about next week.

truly there is so many more of you i wish to thank, but i am honestly sobbing writing this. this may be the hardest pairing I've had to let go of (and i know, we have another week, but my grief has begun so.. shh).

i love you all, I'll see you next week. thank you for letting me tell a story that means more to me than there are enough words for me to explain why.

[xas24]

mini champion ~ pedri

summary: pedri and y/n attend santiago’s first match.

here’s more of santiago and pedri, since you all seemed to really love the last one ;))

“¿recuerdas cómo practicamos?” (remember how we practiced?) santiago nods his head in return to pedris statement as he takes a deep breath. pedris hands rub themselves gently up and down santiago’s arms, comforting yet motivating him.

“que no cunda el pánico, santi. tu hermana y yo estamos ahí sentados. ¡te estaremos apoyando!” (do not panic, santi. your sister and i are sat right there. we will be supporting you! )

that put a little smile on santiago’s face. he threw a look in his sisters direction to see her wave at him with a big, encouraging smile coating her lips. the boy gave her a wave back.

he turned to pedri, “gracias pedri.” (thank you pedri)

“buena suerte, hermanito.” (good luck, little brother)

today was santiago’s first actual match with his football club. they were going up against the other training club in real madrid and santiago couldn’t be any more nervous. it was like a mini el clásico for the youngsters in the training clubs.

santiago could not stop talking about it all week, ever since he found out about it. whenever pedri came over, santiago insisted that they play some football, get him ready for his mini match, something he was really excited yet nervous for.

of course pedri agreed, wanting his little brother to be the best he could be. he mostly just let santi take the upper hand, and pedri helped him where he thought he may need it.

this upcoming match meant a lot to santi so it automatically meant a lot to y/n and pedri too. everyday they reminded him that they would both be there, sat in the first row especially for him.

pedri and y/n were santiagos biggest supporters and one look at the two in the crowd was all the motivation that the little boy needed to be able to walk out onto the pitch with his team.

soon the match had started and cheers of friends and family erupted within the pitch. it was a quick and easy start as all the players were so energetic in the first fifteen minutes. they were all kids with so much potential, but santiago stuck out the most to pedri and y/n.

the young couple kept their eyes on him. he was playing so well. his pace was perfect as well as his passing and communication with his teammates. all the little tips and tricks pedri told him whilst playing in their backyard had now been visualised through his performance.

it was just over fifteen minutes when majority of the crowd erupted with cheers and claps at the opening goal for barcelona. y/n and pedri both stood up from their seats, loud cheers leaving their smiling lips as they saw santiago hug his teammates with the biggest smile on his face.

he turned to y/n and pedri, blowing them each a kiss and waving at them. y/n felt her eyes start to water with the amount of happiness engulfing her right now. she couldn’t feel anymore joy and pride as she watched her little brother laugh and high-five his friends at the incredible goal he just scored.

he was in his element. if he was happy, giddy and cheerful, then so was she. pedri turned to his girlfriend, his lips pulled into a beaming grin, to talk about santiago’s goal when he saw her wiping the corners of her eyes.

“¿lagrimas de felicidad?” (happy tears?) pedri teasingly asked, nudging his shoulder with hers. y/n chuckled and nodded her head, taking a deep breath.

“cariño, no llores. santi es un gran jugador, es muy joven pero llegará muy lejos en el futuro.” (oh, darling. don’t cry. santi is a great player, he is very young but he will go many places in the future!) he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“lo sé, pero me alegro mucho por él.” (i know but i’m just so happy for him) y/n replied. pedri grabbed her hand and intertwined his cool fingers with her warm ones. he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles whilst staring into her tear-stained eyes.

“yo también.” (me too)

her eyes were locked onto his and perhaps it was the overload of different emotions that made her speak up. “gracias por entrar en su vida, pedro. le has ayudado mucho.” (thank you for coming into his life, pedro. you helped him a lot)

“no,” pedri shook his head in objection. he had a playful smile on his lips. “lo tuvo todo el tiempo, y/n. no he cambiado nada.” (he had it in him all along, y/n. i didn’t change anything)

“sí. estoy orgulloso de el.” (yeah. i’m proud of him) y/n stated, letting out a breath of relief. pedri nodded his head, mumbling a small agreement, and they both turned back to the pitch.

soon, the match had ended and barcelona had won. santiago had scored two goals and assisted with one and the sparkling beam on his face as he came out had definitely been the biggest smile that y/n had ever seen.

she took about a thousand pictures as he was given his medal and his team were presented with their trophy.

when they were done and it was time to go, santiago immediately ran over to y/n, who opened her arms to welcome her giddy brother in her embrace.

“¡campeones!” (champions!) santiago laughed as she ruffled his hair and pressed a big, hard kiss to his head.

“¡felicidades, santi! ¡has jugado increíble!” (congratulations, santi! you played amazing!)

“gracias, y/n.” santiago then turned to pedri and leaped into his open arms too. the older boy ran a hand up and down his back and y/n’s heart warmed at both of their expressions. she stared at the two in complete awe.

she knew how much it meant to santiago that pedri came. she knew he wanted to impress him, and although she was aware pedri could never be disappointed with sanitago, she didn’t want to ruin his mood.

having one of fc barcelonas current great players sat in the audience, no matter how close he was to him, would’ve been nerve-racking for anyone. so, she loved how consistently concentrated he stayed throughout the game.

“¡vamos campeón! ¡estuviste increíble ahí fuera!” (let’s go champion! you were amazing out there!) pedri cheered making the little boy giggle. they both pulled away and as the three of them started making their way to pedris car, santiago could not stop talking about the match.

just a week ago he was conversing about his thoughts for the match and how thrilled he was. now, a week later, as a mini champion, the joy couldn’t be wiped off of his face. this was just the beginning for him and y/n was excited to see more of moments like these in his upcoming ages.

the two actively listened to his rambling, not wanting to interject the fact that they were watching the match too.

he was in a spectacular mood and they did not want to ruin that for him.

[trashbag-baby666]

Time, Precious Time-Clegan

Summary: Johns having a hard time coming to terms that his oldest is growing up. (A teaser for my new au)!!! Likes and reblogs highly appreciated!!!

WC: 985

C/W: tooth rotting fluff!

MOTA Masterlist!

Gale shielded his eyes from the hot, June sun. A small smile creeping onto his cheeks seeing the sight of John carrying Flynn on his hip. John, still in his blue firehouse shirt and matching blue pants. His small badge glimmering in the sun, Flynn still in her T-Ball uniform.

It had been a divide and conquer day for the Clevens, they hated when both the girls had games on the same day with overlapping times. Gale took Cordelia to her softball game and John took Flynn to her t-ball game.

“Hi daddy!” Flynn waved practically jumping out of John’s grasp.

“Hey Peanut.” Gale smiled, holding his arms out for the mini John Egan running up the bleachers.

“Uncle Kenny too!?” The seven year old buzzed at the site of the man with the dirty blonde curls.

“How was your game?” Ken asked, Flynn taking a seat next to him.

“What’s the score?” John kissed Gales cheek sitting down next to him.

“Four to five. Neck and neck. Oh just in time.” Gale watched Cordelia come out of the dugout, her bat in hand and her long blonde braid hanging out the back of the helmet.

“You got this Delia! Give ‘em a good dinger!” John cheered, sitting forward resting his elbows on his knees. Gale smirked seeing a glance of Cordelia shooting John a glare. She was 13 and was no longer impressed by John's devotion to the sport.

“She got that look from you,” John knocked his knee into Gales. Even if she was adopted you couldn’t deny she had the Cleven look to her.

“Me?”

“Yeah, everytime the games on when you get home.” John stifled a laugh, “She’s nervous.”

“I know, she was pacing in the dugout last inning.”

“Strike one!” The umpire called as the ball came in fast and Cordelia swung at it, missing.

“Shake it off, Delia! You got this, go down swingin’ if you gotta!” John took his backseat coaching very seriously, which never failed to turn some eyes from other parents. “She’s got that Egan in her, won’t go down without a fight.”

Gale knew that, he knew how hard both of their kids worked for something they wanted. Cordelia had been spending her evenings in the backyard either hitting softballs off a tee or letting Curt or John pitch them to her.

“She tipped a ball to second last time she batted, but they got her at first.”

“Dang, I know she's got this, I can feel it.” John nearly jumped out of his skin as the ding of the bat sounded and Cordelia sent the ball flying into the outfield taking off for first base.

“There ya go! That’s my girl!” John jumped up cheering as Cordelia slid into third and the umpire called safe. Curt high fived her, he always coached third base.

“She's got your swing.” Gale massaged his shoulder, the five o’clock sun kissing John's face. His sun freckles were starting to become more prominent across the bridge of his nose.

“She actually came to me asking for advice on her swing!”

“I saw you guys working on it again last night. Oh and she's got your speed,” Gale pointed as the next girl hit the ball and Cordelia took off for home plate.

“Ayyyy!” John jumped up as she ran across home plate and the other girl got to first, “Five to five!”

—--------

Gale yawned as he checked his watch, “It’s almost bedtime, Peanut. Why don’t you go upstairs and start getting ready for bed.”

“Okay, don’t be late for story time.” Flynn got up from where she had been snuggled into Gale.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’ll meet you upstairs. I'm gonna let the dogs out.” John kissed Gale's cheek, “Come on guys.” John got up with the big Great Dane and the little chihuahua following after him.

John let the dogs out and went into the kitchen grabbing a cup from the cupboard, “Hey, kiddo.” John hummed, glancing over at Cordelia as she came in.

“Can we talk after you guys read to Flynn?”

“Yeah, me and you or dad too?”

“Just us.”

“Okay, good job today, by the way.”

“Thanks, papa.”

John had tucked in Flynn and Chili and Scooby had gone off to bed with Gale. John came down the hall and knocked on Cordelia’s cracked open door.

“Come in,”

“Do you still wanna talk?”

“Yeah.”

John grabbed her desk chair and brought it over to the bed. Their cat, Moose jumped onto his lap the moment he was sat. “What’s up?”

“Well first I just wanted to say thank you for practicing with me. I’m still a little giddy over that hit. But I actually wanted to ask if we could talk about your uh…uhm comments at the game…?” Cordelia took her hair out of the clip and ran a hand through it nervously.

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” John felt his heart fall but he understood the whole being 13 and thinking your parents are lame thing.

“Yeah, I love you but it’s a little embarrassing sometimes. I asked Curt if he could talk to you but he said it would be better if I did it.”

John let out a sigh, “Uncle Curt is smarter than I remember.”

Cordelia let out a small chuckle, “No hard feelings Papa?”

“No hard feelings, love you kiddo.”

“Love you too.”

“She’s growing up too fast,” John shook his head, shutting the door behind him, “She asked me to keep my cheering more casual.”

“It’s okay we have a few more years with Flynn before she thinks we’re lame.” Gale peaked over his glasses to look at John.

“Flynn’s not allowed to grow up. I already told her that.” John flopped down on the bed next to Gale.

“I think we should stay at this age forever then too.”

“We’re gonna be vampires?”

“Totally.”

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Cheshire's Chase

《Catlad/Stray x Reader! HEADCANONS》

More Catlad Tim! HEADCANONS! Mini fic at end! Slight Robin Au too!

Tim is obsessed with the Batfamily (Regardless if you are Robin/Vigilante! Reader)

Tim often writes in a small journal about the crime-fighting family!

He looks up to Dick since he met him before at Haley's circus before his parents had became a bit detached.

Jason never met Tim as Robin, but did look up to him! Finding this Robin a tad bit cooler than when the first Robin was taking crooks down.

Nightwing on the other hand babies Catlad when Tim is first starting out! The two would even sneak out from their parents- *ahem* "parental guardians", to get some air and just talk. [Tim just straight-up fanboying and trying to play it cool. He asks questions about Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and etc.

-

Sighing stupidly at your phone, you felt your cheeks, warm as an oven and your heart all mushy. A small squeal leaves your lips as you twirl about on your way to Wayne manor. A skip in your step without a care in the world as you ring the doorbell.

Instead of Alfred greeting you, Bruce Wayne meets you at the front door. 

"Ah, (Y/N), thank you for arriving in such short notice."

"Of course Mr. Wayne!" You yell, a bit too much excitement in your voice.

The play-boy billionaire eyes you with a questioning look. "Alright.. Well, I must head off now. Alfred and Dick will be back to the manor in a few hours. You know the rules, so I'll be off. Take care of Damien, have a good one!" The CEO waves goodbye as he heads to his garage.

You do a small wave back, soon heading inside the lustrous manor.

Your feet tapping against the cold floor as you wander around the manor for the "baby" you were supposed to be "sitting".

"(L/N)." Damien calls out to you from the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms. Ace and Titus sitting beside him with straightened postures.

You smile at the tiny kid, waving at him to come down. He does so, with a eye-roll and a click of his tongue. The two dogs following behind him like soldiers.

"You seem in good spirits (L/N), more so than usual." The boy said, the two of you outside in the ginormous backyard as you pick up a toy ball for the dogs. 

"Ooohh... Yeah, I-I guess something good did happen today...!" You state, your voice becoming higher pitched and faster. Ignoring Damien's cold stare as you throw the toy ball, Ace runs after it, while Titus looks at his Master for confirmation. Damien nods, smirking a bit at his animal companion as he runs off toward Ace. 

"Well what is it?"

""Scuse me?"

"What made you this "happy" today?" The young Wayne reiterates, petting Ace and Titus once they brought back the ball and another ball?

Where did they find the other one??

"IT-S Uhnnn, teenage stuff, it'll make you SO BOreeed, don't worry about it, kay?!" You grab one of the balls and chuck it so fast and far it flew outside the gardens.

"Damn.. I mean! DANG!" You try to censor yourself, forgetting there was a child present. 

"(L/N), I know what cursing is, your just like Grayson whenever he loses his balance." Damien scoffs, and you chuckle at the oh-so "perfect Garyson" falling on his face whenever he tries to black-flip to impress you and Damien.

"I know, but your still a ity-bity tike! I don't wanna ruin your child like innocence!" You whine dramatically, attempting to go in for a hug as Damien expertly avoids your hug attack.

"Augh, your worse than Garyson!" He hisses, this time changing his route to inside the manor.

"Come on, we need to get that ball back!"

"Fine..!" You groan out, pouting. "But I think it's an accomplishment that I'm worse than him!"

Wandering around the Crest Hill neighborhood, you stare in awe at the pristine houses and ginormous manors and mansions of rich households.

Damien nudged your leg when he noticed the stupid expression on your face.

"You've seen Wayne Manor before, these buildings aren't as amazing. That one over there isn't even old, it's rather plain too."

You eye the one Damien pointed out curiously, "who's home is it?"

Damien shoots you a look, which you could only offer a timid smile.

The boy sighs and names all the residents on the street, explaining to you the reasons he even knew were due to his father's connections with the higher upper-class citizens of Gotham. Most of them attended the charities they frequented.

"The newer building is Drake Manor-"

Damien becomes quiet as he turns around, you following his position.

A familiar teen walks up to the two of you...

Oh.

SHIT-

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?"

Your body trembles in place as you turn around, Damien who notices your frightened stance. Glares at the newcomer that decided to approach the two of you.

"TIM- I-I mean! Hi-! Drake, Tim Drake??" You babble, wanting to find the nearest rock and crush it on your skull.

"Uhm, yeah, that's me.. Why are you in Crest Hill? I thought you... Wait, do you live here?" Tim coughed, realizing his slip up.

"OH-ya see.. I had.. A baby-sitting gig, so that's why I'm here. BU-Ut... No, I don't live here, in this area, or neighborhood."

Tim's eyes don't meet your own, he rubs the back of his neck and apologized for the assumption.

"No! It's fine, really!" You honestly were just more focused on the fact Tim even knew you existed. The two of you didn't really talk with each other, except on the occasional "hi" or nod in greeting when seeing each other. (Which would always light up your day!)

"And the one that does live here is standing beside me." You gestured to Damien, who squares up in front of Tim. 

Not frightened or shy by the lanky looking male in front of him.

"It was nice seeing you, Drake. But we have to keep looking for our ball, excuse us." 

Damien, grabs your hand, trying to tug you away, but you stay rooted on the sidewalk.

"W-well I guess will see each other later?"

" Definitely," Tim said. His slips form into a grin as he walks back to his destination.

"Yeah.." You giggle stupidly. 

Once Tim was out of sight and hearing, you stumble forward as Damien pulls you along.

"Wait! Damien! Calm down! My legs are asleep right now!" You cry out, he ignored you as the two of you find the ball and head back to the manor.

-

Mini Catlad And Other Batbrats HEADCANONS

Nightwing babies Catlad when first meeting them. Red Hood shoots at him, Robin tried to kill him.

Robin in this Au has a fun rivalry with Catlad, the two often bickering instead of fighting, or both at the same time.

I would like to think Catlad has intentionally flirted with you while babysitting Robin or Damien just to piss off the kid. But I can see that the two respect each other. But won't admit it unless they were both about to die.

"What's wrong?" Catlad smiles evilly at the two of you, or rather, mostly towards Robin. Who seemed fed up with the thief's antics. While you and Damien had decided to go to the museum to check out a new exhibit. (Dick had begged you to take Damien in his steed because of reasons.)

But, the two cat burglars had decided to make an entrance...

Batman was off running after Catwoman, while Robin stood protectively in front of you. Glaring at the cat-themed villain, while you smile at Catlad. Remembering the two of you rendezvous on apartment roof-tops a few days back.

You started to pray for his safety when Robin threw out a flash bomb at your friend.

-

[Hope you guys enjoyed it! I need to start thinking about making a bat-brats as villain series. Also, hint for the next one, it's gonna be a hoot! Get it?]

[iamawolfstarsimp]

Sup bitches im back

decided to throw out a cute lil unprompted summer fluffy fic for ya'll (cause who doesn't love those)

hope you guys' first week of 2024 has been good!

So yeah enjoy

Summer break was probably Sirius' favorite time of year. Which was funny to him because he remembered a time when he hated summer break.

Hogwarts was the first place that truly felt like home to him, so departing from that place was devastating. Ever since he had separated himself from his family and the god-awful house and spent summer break with James, it had been amazing.

He could go and do whatever he wanted in town, got three delicious meals everyday, and spent all of his time with his best friend.

It just got even better when Remus was allowed to spend summer with them as well. When Sirius first got word that Remus would on fact be spending summer with them, he anxiously waited everyday for any letter from Remus.

After what felt like forever, Mr. Potter was sent a letter and instructed to go and get Remus to bring him to the house safely. Sirius spent the whole morning waiting excitedly (which included looking out the front window every two minutes, bouncing his leg, and immediately jumping up when he heard a noise outside), much to James' amusement.

When Remus did show up, it didn't budge Sirius' newfound excitement to show Remus everything they did for fun at the Potter's. He spent the whole day dragging Remus around town showing him all the shops they went to, the mini quittitch pitch James had in his backyard, all the many rooms in the large house, introducing him to the house elves, and helping him unpack. Remus was tired but enthusiastic.

This particular evening, Sirius and James had pleaded long and hard enough to James' mum that she had let them sleep outside under the stars. Peter had brought two large sleeping bags that they would share, two in each bag and they all camped out, listening to Sirius point out all the different stars and constellations.

"-oh, and, the "star" next to the moon isn't actually a star, it's Venus." He said, folding his arms behind his head after pointing to Venus.

"Wow. How did you learn so much about astronomy?" Remus asked, probably the only on actually paying attention because he could distinctly hear Peter and James quietly giggling from their sleeping bag.

"It's one of the things mum wanted me and Regulus to know a bunch about. Partially because a lot of the black family names have to do with astronomy." Sirius shrugged.

"I think it's cool that you know so much about the stars and stuff." Remus answered quietly, sensing Sirius' embarrassment.

"Heh, thanks." Sirius smiled at him. Remus could faintly see the blush dusting Sirius' cheeks.

"Don't go shy on me now, that's my thing." Remus poked Sirius in the side. Sirius grinned and batted his hand away.

"Oh, what's this?" Remus grinned back, his grin meaning something different than Sirius' though.

"S-stohop!" Sirius giggled when Remus continued his poking, using his other hand as well.

"Be quiet, you're gonna wake up the others." Remus scolded.

"They're already awake!" Sirius kicked out, aiming for Remus' shins. Remus laughed and kicked back, poking anywhere he could reach.

Sirius rolled away but only ended up tangling himself and Remus in the sleeping bag. They both giggled as they rolled across the ground before bumping into James and Peter's bag.

James grunted. "What are you two idiots doing?"

"He's killing me!!" Sirius shouted, grappling with Remus' hands.

"He's fine!" Remus laughed along with Sirius.

Soon enough after hearing Sirius' complaint, James came crawling out of his own sleeping bag to help mess with Sirius.

"Noooo!" Sirius groaned as James crawled into the sleeping bag with the other two, smushing Sirius between Remus and himself.

Sirius was lost in his own mirth as James and Remus tormented him, not being able to cover up or protect himself wasn't helping.

Some time after James had joined them, Peter also crawled inside but mostly kept to himself and laughed at their antics.

"-stop stop stop stop, ple-hehehe-please!" Sirius had given up on trying to fight back and put all his efforts in curling into a ball.

James and Remus backed off, letting him breathe. Sirius immediately unfurled himself and attacked Remus though, digging into the werewolves' ribs. Remus yelped in alarm and burst out laughing, throwing his head back and squirming away from Sirius.

Peter and James laughed as well, joining in on playfully torturing the next victim. After a few minutes of tickling though, Remus managed to crawl out of the sleeping bag and run away from the others.

Sirius immediately hopped up chasing after him, James hot on his trail. Peter stayed where he was, watching the whole scene go down.

Remus (for once in his life) thanked his werewolf abilities which enabled him to see in the dark and run faster than the average teenage boy.

He out-ran the other two boys til they got tired and trudged back to their little camp. Too tired to actually tuck himself in, Remus plopped down on top of the other sleeping bag next to Sirius who was panting.

James was the first to speak. "I hope we spend every summer like this."

"Of course we will." Sirius nudged him. "We're marauders. We'll always stick together, no matter what."

Even though Sirius' mini speech was sappy, Remus quietly hoped that Sirius was right. He couldn't imagine summer any other way.

Hope you liked

[j0kers-light]

What if J got Y/n a bunny!?🐇💖 Love you chaos! ❣️

Hey hi anon! 🖤✨

Love you too! This ask is absolutely adorable!! I got some free inspiration from the bunnies in my backyard so shout out to the bunny fam 🐰 I enjoyed watching you on my extended lunch break today!

I give credit where it’s due. I hope you enjoy this one anon!

You are confused when J tells you to hush the second you walk in the door. He’s huddled on the floor, grinning from ear to ear and staring at something that’s.. moving?

Joker has brought some questionable things into your home so you prepare yourself for anything but your fears are laid to rest when you round the corner.

Your high pitched squeal gains the attention of the spotted tan and white bunny that’s familiarizing itself with your living room. Joker leans back, proud of his latest purchase. You look like you're going to faint with joy.

You drop everything to coo at the adorable Holland Lop twitching it’s nose at you. Its droopy ears are to die for!

How can something so small be so absolutely adorable?! But then it hops away and you're hurt at being ignored.

Joker laughs at your adorable pout. “She’s just like you, bunny. Skittish an' shy. Cmere sweet girl.. don't be upset. She has to get to know ya a bit."

Joker tugs you into his lap where he gives you welcome home kisses to lift up your spirits. Together the two of you watch the small pet wander around. You break the silence first.

"Are you going to explain why there's a rabbit in my apartment?" He laughs and playfully bops your nose.

"I thought it was obvious. I got my bunny a bunny." He can see the sparkles in your eyes and knows you're this 🤏🏾 close to tackling him with thank you kisses.

Joker was well known for his elaborate gifts and he always outdoes himself, but this gift might be the best yet.

Joker bought you an adorable bunny! You're already thinking of the perfect name for your new companion and you beg Joker to go shopping with you at the pet store! He claims he's only there to pay but he picks out more stuff than you do 👀

(Joker secretly loves pets but that's another head canon)

You relate all too well to the new edition to your apartment. At this point you named your bunny (insert name).

The both of you are calm, laid-back, and content with lounging around the quiet space but make no mistake, Joker is constantly finding his bunnies causing trouble. He regrets buying you an active pet sometimes. 🤭

If you don't let mini bun (Joker refuses to call your bunny by her given name) exercise for at least three hours a day, you'll find her nibbling on stuff or knocking things down.

Her temper tantrums are both adorable and obnoxious but quickly solved by her favorite toy or hay to eat. Now you understood why Joker nicknamed you after the adorable animal....

Joker loves coming in from a long night out to the sight of his bunnies nestled in a pile of bedding, fast asleep.

He doesn't want to ruin your slumber but mini bun senses his presence and follows him into the kitchen to keep him company.

Mini bun is also Joker's pet and its evident when you wake up in the morning to find Joker sound asleep on the couch with mini bun on his chest.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Horse Girl Geralt

Geralt is a Horse Girl. He was practically raised on the back of a horse in Kaer Morhen, and he misses when horses were common place on the streets.

Sadly, cars have replaced them as the main mode of transportation, and the cities have become crowded, cramped spaces, where homes are crammed together, with only thin walls to separate them.

There are a few lucky people (like Jaskier) who have a home with any kind of yard around it. The backyard at Jaskier's house is spacious, with sunny spots and shady spots, and room to move. Unfortunately, it is much too small to keep a horse in. But a Witcher can dream, can't he?

Geralt gets rather excited when he hears about an upcoming parade, carnival, or fair where there might be horses. He goes to every event, just for a chance to pet a horse. He particularly loves going to stock shows and other horse related events.

He goes to the fairs and carnivals that come to the city. Yennefer never has to worry about where he is if they get separated. She knows she will find him at the petting zoo, looking like a Disney Princess surrounded by animals, while he pets any available horse.

Geralt will stop and pet any horse he happens to encounter as he goes about his day.

He has a vintage fleece horse print blanket on his bed (my Hispanic peeps will understand)

He has framed selfies of him with horses.

And an impressive collection of Breyer Horse figurines. He's even done a few custom sclupts and paints of his own.

When contracts are scarce, he takes small horse related odd jobs. He's done farrier work, taken temp jobs at boarding facilities, and done odd jobs around farms and ranches as he was passing through.

He's met many different kinds of horses in his decades of being on the Path, and there are things he's loved about each, but his favorites are Tiny Fat Ponies. He can't help it. They are just so tiny and fat, and fluffy, and...CUTE!

He just really likes horses, okay? And that is why he got into trouble with Yennefer. He and Jaskier had been out on the Path. They were driving home and Geralt sees the advertisement on the fence: Mini Ponies 4 Sale

Geralt HAD to stop because all the fluffy babies were out in their little field. Jaskier had let out a little scream of surprise and grabbed the 'ohsh*t' handles as Geralt had suddenly swerved off the road.

The Witcher was out of the van and at the fence before Jaskier had even gotten his seatbelt off. Geralt was crouched at the fence, making kissy noises to attact the curious ponies.

The entire herd had trotted over in a cacophony of tippy-taps and adorable little snorts, nosing at the hands Geralt held out to them. He was in heaven as he squatted there, petting all the tiny ponies.

They were the smallest ponies he had ever seen. He'd seen the ocassional Northern Pony, which stood roughly 11 hands high, but these were...tiny. Maybe 30 inches at the withers, if that. They were stocky, and fluffy, and Geralt was surviving up until they started whinnying. At the first high-pitched little squeak, the Witcher was completely in love.

And then he sees a little red one, and he is just grabbing Jaskier and practically shaking him and going "Oh my GAWD, I want to take her home! We can put her in the van! We can put her in the van!"

Geralt doesn't even wait for Jaskier to respond. He's just pulling out his phone and talking with the seller. The man is a bit surprised by the sudden visit (and the fact that it's a Witcher) but he's polite and willing to do the sale. Roughly 20 minutes later, Geralt is carrying his new baby to the van.

Yennefer is more than a little exasperated when she sees them in the backyard with a tiny fat pony. She instinctively looks at Jaskier. Every time Geralt's brain cells deactive, it's usally has something to do with Jaskier and one of his random a** suggestions.

The bard immediately points at the Witcher and blurts " I didn't do it! It was Geralt's idea!"

Yennefer: * gives Geralt one of her megawatt glares to show her displeasure*

Geralt: *clutches tiny fat pony protectively*

Yennefer had sighed in defeat. She knew there was no way Geralt was going to give up the little pony. He was too much of a Horse Girl. And he looked so happy. She just couldn't bring herself to even suggest he take it back.

Yennefer ended up crafting a spell to cast on her garden shed that would, in simple terms, make the inside bigger than the outside. There was now a very nice set of stables with generous paddocks and a small barn stocked with a variety of feed for the new baby.

Geralt had named her Wee Roach to differentiate between her and Van Roach.

Yennefer couldn't help but smile as she watched Geralt carry the pony around in his arms while baby-talking to her like one of those little old ladies with their purse dog. Jaskier even jokingly suggested that Geralt just embrace his inner old lady and buy a pet sling carrier.

Geralt carried her around the house, cuddled with her on the couch, and Yennefer even caught him a few times letting her sleep in his bed. The little pony followed him from room to room, and Geralt had even successfully house-broken her.

Geralt and Jaskier took Wee Roach with them on the Path. She fit nicely in Van Roach, and Yennefer had even cast a spell on the van. The inside was now much more roomy, and the back doors now led to the same stables contained in her garden shed.

Yennefer thought that was the end of it. But as most Horse Girls know, one horse is never enough. A gray Northern Pony gelding Jaskier had named Pegasus, was added to the herd several months later, and Yennefer had put her foot down regarding tiny fat ponies in the house.

Jaskier figured that the horse drawn laundry basket speed run through the house had been the deciding factor. And the hole he'd put in the wall when he'd crashed probably hadn't helped either.

Geralt and Jaskier could often be seen walking Wee Roach and Pegasus around the city. They had special little shoes to protect their feet, and Pegasus was the designated water and treat carrier.

Wee Roach always had her mane and tail braided with colorful ribbons, and when Jaskier was taken by the random urge for a bit of whimsy, he would convince Geralt to take their babies to the groomers for the Rainbow Unicorn mane and tail dye job.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing: General, hint of Dean/OFC

Tags: Witchcraft, Animal Transformations, Angst, Fluff (and Fur)

Word Count: 5500

Hello, and welcome to my very first foray into a big bang! Of course, if I’m going to give one a try, Dean Winchester will be the focus. This particular one was also much less intimidating as it was the 2023 Dean Winchester Big Bang: Mini Edition. So, the word count wasn’t high, and we had a couple of months to work on the project with our artists. My artist is TwinOne. I had such a fun time sending over suggestions and watching their artwork come to life through the process.

I hope you enjoy and please let TwinOne know how sweet and lovely the artwork is. I’m over the moon with the results, and it was so satisfying to see someone’s interpretation of my story! It scratched that itch (wink, wink).

Thank you to the mods @deanwbigbang for hosting and running such a fun challenge! Your time and effort is appreciated!

Summary - Set pre-series, Stanford Era: Dean has been sent on a solo hunt in New Orleans. He meets up with an ingenue witch, Selina, who needs his help to save her mentor from a voodoo priestess. The plan doesn’t go as expected; when does it ever? Dean, though, gets a little breather in the aftermath, and it turns out to be just the thing to scratch that itch.

Prequel to "Oh, I'll Be Anything You Want"

Tendrils of smoke. It swirls, radiating bright white, pulsing with life in an empty void. Growls. Incessant barks. Distant at first. With every passing second, the panic rises as the sound pounds closer. Suddenly, hot and foul breath chases out the smoke.

Dean’s lids popped open from the nightmare. His head tilted from side to side, inspecting the area.

He’d hoped the entire thing had been a self-constructed comedy of errors in his mind. A bad dream from which he’d blessedly awakened.

Unfortunately, the current situation he found himself in was very, very real.

There was no way Dean Winchester would ever tell his dad about this.

If he somehow managed to escape this debacle, he might die of humiliation if someone found out.

New Orleans had been a disappointment in so many ways. No booze. No beads. No boobs.

He whined at the unexpected stab of pain emanating from his shoulder. He’d been lucky to win the fight in one piece. The sparring partner’s fangs had sunk into Dean’s flesh like malleable clay.

But before the ambush, he’d at least accomplished what he’d set out to do. The hex bag had been buried in the priestess’s backyard. Selina had provided specific instructions. Dean’s sense of direction easily found the northernmost corner of the parcel lot. The muslin-wrapped ingredients he’d been charged with rested beneath a half foot of dirt. All his tasks were completed well before midnight under the brightest full moon he’d seen in ages. He hoped Selina had gone ahead with the spellwork even if he hadn’t gotten back to her in time.

He stared out between the steel bars into the pitch-black. The absence of light left him bereft of shadows to discern as friend or foe.

An itch tap-danced over his neck. Skin rippled at the sensation while he fought the temptation to scratch. Discomfort from the wounded limb took priority for a short spell. 

He hadn’t thought things could get worse but turned out jail time was the worst thing that could have happened on top of everything else. Getting caught, literally, in this condition left him vulnerable.

Dean’s nostrils flared and twitched at the overpowering stench of pungent piss and stale shit. He got a whiff of cat dander and sneezed.

The cell block buddy to his right barked to keep it down. It was lights out, after all. Just because he’d been brought in late last night, he was told with a fierce growl, didn’t mean he couldn’t acclimate himself to the way things ran around here right quick. Dean rose only to circle the middle of the floor again. He eventually flopped back down, forced by the pulsing throb of his barely treated and badly bandaged wound. He curled like a ball atop the hard surface. The bone-cold of the place sent a shiver through his body. He closed his eyes again and prayed for sleep.

A fluorescent electric buzz hummed into his ear canal. The flicker of light flashed over closed lids. Tapping into all his senses, something alien swept left to right along the surface of his eyeballs, lazy and slow, as his sight focused.

A languid yawn escaped. The clink-clack of a door unlocking bolted him upright. He scampered to the front of the cell closest to the hallway floor. Nose stuck between bars, Dean tilted his head in vain to glimpse who entered.

Whines. Barks. They echoed off the walls. The instinctual urge to join in added his voice to the chorus.

“I found one that fits the bill a few hours ago.” A raspy elderly voice mixed in with all the noise. Dean recognized it. It belonged to the dog catcher that had entangled him in what looked like a big ass butterfly net. He was the reason Dean was here. He’d done the bare minimum caring for the Pitbull bite. Dean transferred most of the front weight to his left paw. The ache of his right shoulder thrummed in sync with the beating of his little heart. Dean had to be the one to fit the bill.

All Dean could view in his line of sight were soiled, grass-stained tan pants from the knees down and dirty brown combat boots. Pride filled his lungs. The tug of war he’d put up in the net brought the dog catcher to the ground. Their scrap amidst dirt and weeds and a flounce in a mud puddle had left his mark on the human.

Human. Christ, it has to be her coming to claim me. Please.

Hope soared in Dean’s chest when his gaze clamped on the blue (which would be violet if he was looking through his human eyes) leather of a familiar pair of high-heeled ankle boots. A crepe skirt rivaling Joseph’s technicolor dreamcoat covered the boot tops and swished in time with the steps.

“I hope it’s him.” A barely audible female voice floated above, drowned out by the pound puppies’ cacophony.

Selina! Thank Christ! A tinny, high-pitched bark erupted from his throat. Down here! Down here!

Both pairs of boots stopped in front of him. “That’s him there,” the catcher added. A wrinkled finger pointed in his direction.

Selina’s figure descended. Hands gathered the skirt up as she settled into a squat.

Her big almond-shaped eyes, a tad oversized for the heart-shaped face, blinked in relief. Dean halted his bark in mid-yip. Instead of her usual deep purple irises - a breathtaking sight in and of themselves on any given day - he was met with equally captivating dark blue saucers, swirled with golden flecks. The sight of her large frame stirred up amazement.

She grinned. “Yep, that’s him!” 

The dog catcher huffed and fumbled with the key into the padlock. “You should take better care of the mutt. No collar or chip. He’s lucky I found him.”

Lucky, my ass!

“He’s not a mutt,” Selina responded in her typical curt fashion. “Purebred beagle.”

“Aint never seen a beagle with green eyes ‘fore,” the dog catcher mumbled. He fished the padlock from out of the loop. “Or one with paws that damn big.” The cage door squeaked with Dean’s nose nudging it open. Dean bounced off his hind legs into Selina’s lap. 

Selina slammed a hand on the concrete to remain upright. “Oh, thank God! Scooby!” She wrapped her free arm around Dean. 

“Scooby, huh?” The old man removed his cap to smooth down the ten wiry hairs on his head.

Dean’s pulse began to slow, nestled tight and secure in Selina’s embrace. The scent he’d connected with her, spicy incense and pink bubblegum, enveloped his now small and furrier frame.

One back paw reared up and swatted repeatedly at one of his floppy ears.

“What happened to him?” Selina’s tender touch caressed the gauze bandage.

“Got ‘imself in some trouble. Looked to be an animal bite.”

Dean’s lids clamped tight. He cocked his head and continued to flick and dig his paw into the spot behind his ears. Maybe if he used his claws.

“Does he… have fleas?” Selina asked in a tone that regrettably already knew the answer.

Fleas? Dean whined, still scratching. Why the fuck not? On top of everything else.

“We’re gonna take care of this, Dean. Promise.” Selina white-knuckled the steering wheel, hands at ten and two. Her lithe, petite frame perched on the edge of the bench. It was the only way she could reach the Impala’s gas pedal.

Dean languished on the passenger side and sunk into the center of the seat. It was still dark out. Street lamps popped overhead in a rhythmic pattern and spilled light through the windshield. Cobblestone-paved streets jostled the chassis. His baby usually drove like a tank with barely a hiccup; all smooth sailing. He wondered how much the bumpy ride had to do with the road condition under the tires or the person driving his car. 

He sighed, closed his eyes, and shivered at the pinprick, itchy tingle of his skin. 

Apparently, the spell Selina had cast didn’t include telepathy. No matter how much he wished for her to reach under the seat, feel for the damn bar to pull the bench forward to close the distance between her and the wheel, she wasn’t tuned into his mental signals.

Dean straightened his front legs and stiffened his elbows at the sudden screech of tires. His paws dug into the leather. He lurched forward with the momentum, watching Selina do the same from the driver’s seat. Once they settled to a stop, she stared over at him with a regretful frown. “Sorry. I haven’t driven in a while.”

Dean slitted his lids and yipped.

“It’s not much farther to the shop.” The pointy toe of her boot met the gas pedal and the car sputtered along again. “Once I got a lock on your location and saw how far away you were, I didn’t have a choice but to take your car. But don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of this, Dean.”

You already said that. Dean’s little barks echoed in the Impala’s interior.

“I know you’re trying to tell me something. But I can’t read your mind.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Man, you’ve got a powerful set of puppy lungs. Want some good news? I was able to lift the hoodoo trance off Esme. All thanks to you.”

Well, at least something good came out of this mess.

It was very good news. He was in New Orleans because his father sent him on a case to help out an old friend. The old friend happened to be a witch doctor named Esmerelda. Esme for short. 

Dean’s boots had hit Danneel Street and crossed the threshold of “Step on a Crack” Magical Notions Shop, which Esme owned, one day too late to prevent the inevitable escalation. Esme had been cursed and was unsure when the fallout would take full effect. She hadn’t stepped on a crack but the toes of a powerful voodoo priestess in the French Quarter. That’s why he and Selina had partnered up. To save her teacher, who’d been rendered catatonic. Esme was currently being watched and cared for by the coven, whose members were taking shifts at her bedside.  

Glad your mentor is on the mend. That’s even better for me. She can probably zap me back quicker than you. Why aren’t we heading there?

“She’s still pretty weak, though, from what Harold told me over the phone.”

Dean huffed.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know you wanted to turn into a German Shepherd. But I did say I couldn’t guarantee what kind of dog breed the spell would transform you into. That’s not in my control.” Selina tangled her hands one over the other along the steering wheel column in a clumsy fashion. Dean swayed to the right with Selina’s left turn. “I’m pretty sure, though, the shop’s got some things that will take care of your fleas while we wait out the magic.”

It was true. Selina hadn’t guaranteed much about the spell. And it had been his idea to try it when they rifled through the pages of an ancient grimoire. The voodoo priestess had stitched some warding around her property, only permitting certain humans to cross. An animal transformation made perfect sense. 

Dean groaned and rubbed the side of his head into the backrest to ease the itch. Fleas better not have been part of Selina’s witchcraft.

Dean scrabbled paws along the slippery marble floor, trying in vain to sit upright. Every time he thought he’d achieved a precarious balance, his body toppled. He’d starfished, even done a few Bambi-on-ice skating maneuvers waiting for Selina in the tiny bathroom. Claustrophobia settled in, though it’d only been a few minutes since she promised to return and closed the door behind her.

How old was this puppy skin he inhabited? All of Dean - his mind, sensibilities, and humanity - wrapped up tight in this fur burrito felt like him, except when it didn’t. Curious instinct made its presence known. Once he relented on the sitting still attempt, his nose glued to the floor and led the inspecting. He tried to zone in on something interesting to escape the fear. And the endless itching he’d been ordered not to scratch. When Dean thought about it, it wasn’t that different from any given human day. 

Overhead, water poured out of the claw foot tub’s red copper faucet. Steam plumed over the deep basin. The impending bath temperature also drew concern. Being a beagle was terrible enough. A boiled beagle? Hell no!

Flared nostrils filled with the overwhelming scent of Selina. A sense of calm broke through the nagging flight response. He’d been in the small apartment only once since arriving in Louisiana. Perched over the magic shop, his first step into her home had flooded his sight. It was a treasure trove of textiles and trinkets blazing with gemstone brilliance. Shelves stuffed with books. Glass jars of unidentifiable powders. Vials of transparent or opaque liquids. Everything a young witch needed to learn the craft.

She smelled nice before. He’d caught whiffs of her here and there when he passed her frame on his human feet. But his canine senses were picking up every atomized particle now. He spotted a forgotten hairbrush hiding in the corner and catapulted forward to claim it. His speed and the slick marble took away any ability to stop in a semblance of elegance. He face-palmed into the rubber tines of the brush. Tangled hair in the brush tickled his nose, and rapid inhales took more of her into his lungs. Yeah. This was nice. It felt good. Safe. He debated chewing.  

The door creaked. Dean spun in a flash and let out a pathetic growl of defense, having painted himself into a corner with no way out. Selina stepped inside, paying him no attention. The giantess silenced him with only her presence. 

“Apple cider vinegar.” She held up a bottle in victory, clutching a few small droppers in the other hand. They clattered from her grip into the pedestal sink. Sitting on the tub edge, she uncapped the vinegar and emptied the contents with a rhythmic glug into the water. 

Drops splattered up and out of the tub, landing near Dean. He flinched. Doggie brain told him this was not going to be pleasant. 

“Okay.” Fingers twisted first one faucet knob, then the other, shutting off the flow. Her arm dipped into the water. Dean’s ear perked up at the sloshes. “Not too bad.”

Says you.

“Come on, Dean.” Her wet hand gestured with a come hither.

You know, I might be able to hang on until the spell wears off. I’m good.

Selina sighed. “You’re gonna make me come over there, aren’t you?” She slinked on the floor, knees stretching the fabric of her skirt as she crawled towards him on all fours.

Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.

His insistence fell on deaf ears. She snatched him up in a second. The next, he dangled above the water. Her hands cupped him under whatever a dog’s version of armpits were. He kicked and wriggled. Whined and whimpered.

“It’s okay.” She submerged his hind quarters like a tea bag in and out three times until he gave in and went limp in her arms to steep. “Not gonna hurt you, no matter what you think of witches.” She leaned him forward with care. “Good boy.” When she let him go, he stood in warm water that rose up to just meet his back.  

He shivered, puppy heartbeat racing. His nose twitched at the acidity of the vinegar additive. The sound of skin rubbing together crept up behind him. “Next ingredient we need is peppermint.” A soap bar popped into his peripheral vision. It smelled of candy mints left atop a restaurant check, then absentmindedly stuffed in a jacket pocket. “Okay?” she asked.

You gonna stop if I say no? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Okay, so Dean had to admit to himself - even if he’d never cop to Selina - the bath hadn’t been that bad. Selina had a gentle but firm touch. She’d sudsed all of his coat, lifting him first from the front and then the back end. She apologized for getting a little more intimate than Dean had expected with his little puppy prick and ass. The fleas could be anywhere, she reminded him. As the tub drained, she sprayed water from the shower wand and rinsed him clean. 

Once he was taken out of the tub and laid atop one towel, another enveloped and rubbed until his fur was damp and not dripping. She communicated all of her actions beforehand. The dropper bottles contained various oils to help rid Dean of the dreaded fleas. With fabric under his paws, he sat tall and tilted his head to study Selina while she worked. She smiled at him, patiently naming each essential or botanical oil she squeezed into a water bottle: Almond, Cedar, Eucalyptus, Lavender. 

The concoction soothed immediately on contact. The mix of smells dispelled the last remnants of his anxiety. Delicate, soft fingers caressed his coat and threaded through the fur to find the skin. The blissful massage helped chase away the panic. Yet another thing he’d never admit to Selina. If he ever got the chance to admit anything to her with his human voice again. Weirdly, he seemed perfectly willing to accept such a fate. Maybe things could be much, much worse after all. 

After tidying some of the bathroom mess, Selina opened the door and ushered him forth. Dean’s legs scampered toward the makeshift doggie water bowl beside the bank of kitchen cabinets. One would have thought he’d never want to dip his snout in water again. But he gobbled and slurped with his tongue like he hadn’t drank a drop in days. He didn’t know how much time had passed before a plate of cut-up deli ham had been deposited alongside the bowl. He was greedy for that as well. Fangs hooked into the meat. He hitched his head upwards to encourage the food down his throat.

“I know human food isn’t the best for you… like this. But let’s hope we don’t have to experience the results and the spell wears off before then.” Selina commented, leaning against the countertop. “Do you need to go outside and do some business?”

Again, without any say in the matter, Dean’s head sprung upright to lock his gaze on the sweet human caretaker at the words “go outside.” He mulled it over. He’d pissed in the nearest grass as soon as they’d left the pound. An impressively long and satisfying leak. He wanted to shake his head “No” but couldn’t do it. Instead, his eyes tracked a small rug by a chair. His claws clicked along the hardwood - thank god the entire floor wasn’t marble - to what he decided would make a perfect resting spot. He corkscrewed his frame into a compact fur ball atop the cushy velvet and let out a deep, well-earned sigh.

“Good idea. I’m beat, too.” She pointed somewhere behind Dean. “Can get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be able to find out how long the spell will last with a clearer head in the morning.” She shrugged. The motion appeared to loosen a yawn from her throat. “But, maybe you’ll wake up all back to normal.”

Dean yawned in return, finishing it with a high-pitched squeak.

Selina giggled. “You are adorable, Dean Winchester. Night.”

Too exhausted to be any more humiliated, Dean’s tail thumped softly in response. He closed his eyes. Clean. Warm. Cozy. Well fed. Watched over.

He drifted off, hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d ever been all those things.   

Dean’s running. His puppy paws gallop atop the soft, giving earth of a field. He’s darting through the wheat. His snout cuts through the crops, scraped by wispy stalks. 

He can hear how heavy he’s panting. The exertion and speed has his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

But he’s not running from something.

Dean’s just running. Because he can.

He breaks through and into a clearing. The sun’s rays warm his furry coat. He spots a quintessential farmhouse in the distance. He can see the large wrap-around porch. A pair of rocking chairs. Off to one side is a laundry line studded with freshly washed clothes, flapping in the breeze. An oak tree, taller than the two-story home, stands guard along the other side. A tire swing dangles from one of its sturdy branches. A few white cotton candy clouds rest above it all in the bluest of skies. 

He feels the farmhouse calling to him. He just knows. It’s home.

All the colors of the rainbow that his human eyes normally detect fill his vision. He zig zags between a row of apple trees, closing the distance. A fallen apple halts him. He sniffs; the sweetness is too good to pass up. He gnashes into the mealy flesh, attacking it from all angles. He tongues the juices into his welcoming throat.

“Deeaaan!”

His head snaps up. That voice beckons him home. He resumes his sprint. That voice. He hasn’t heard it in ages.

He cuts through a tall patch of sunflowers to find the voice's owner waiting for him, seated on the porch steps.

“There you are!” Sam calls out. He tosses a tennis ball a few feet in the air above his head, catching it without having to glance at his palm. This Sam is young. Thirteen or so. He’s spindly, a toothpick with knobby joints, and a smile that takes up half his face.

Just like he remembers.

“Mom said we’ve got time before dinner.” Sam juggles the ball from one hand to the other.

Mom. Mom’s here.

“Ready?” Sam asks, winding his arm back for a killer pitch.

Dean yips.

Dean yipped himself awake. 

It’s morning. 

He’s still a beagle.

Selina watched as Dean did his business in the backyard of the Magic Shop. Unlucky, she had to experience the results of feeding puppy Dean human food. But she didn’t complain, picking up after him. “All done? How about some breakfast? Eggs and bacon sound good?”

That sounds amazing to Dean. But he’s beginning to think Selina is a glutton for punishment.

The bacon sizzled in the cast iron pan. Selina explained why Dean was still walking on four legs instead of two. “So, even though the magic worked and Esme’s on the mend, I should probably have bound your reversal spell in with that enchantment to speed things along. You would have been human by the time the full moon set this morning.” She fished a couple pieces of bacon out of the pan with a fork and laid them atop some paper towels. “I’m pretty sure it’ll wear off by tomorrow. If it doesn’t, Harold said he’ll come by and see what he can do. He doesn’t want to leave Esme yet. I’ll ask one of the other witches if you can’t wait, though.”

Dean knew that Selina trusted Harold almost as much as Esme. The other witches in the group were fickle and not the kindest to Selina, from what Dean saw firsthand. Witches, man. Dean trotted over and sat by one of Selina’s legs. He rubbed his face along her smooth calf. She looked even younger in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. Still massive, though.

“I will, Dean. I’ll eat crow for my mistake. You’ve done more than anyone would’ve for someone they don’t even know.”

A friend of Dad’s doesn’t get left behind. It’s cool, Selina. How about some bacon to smooth things over?

“What does that whine mean?”

He raised up onto his haunches and leaned front paws on the oven door.

“Oh, bacon. Right.”

The rest of the day is easy, lazy. A day he hasn’t felt in a while. Not since Sammy left him.

The days without his brother have brought out more of the hard lines and jagged points in John’s countenance. Deep down, Dean wants to hope it’s not him bringing that out in their father. That it’s the void, the empty spot that used to contain Sam that no longer filters out the hate and hurt; that used to misdirect all that drill sergeant behavior. His little shit of a sibling was all of John’s fervent focus of protection for so long. Dean sees it plain as day. John doesn’t know what to do with all his feelings. So he bottles them up. Drinks them away. Or spats them out at Dean, chipping away at him.

Dean has been coping with his feelings as best as John. Realizing he’s handling the broken compass in his core the same way. Nose down. Find a job. Work the case. Kill the monster. Fill the despair with a win. Fill the despair with booze. Inflict rage on any other to empty out the despair. Stoke passion in any other to empty out the despair.

Anything and everything to kick the can down the line. Because he’s realized - Sam was his hope and lifeline as much as he was dad’s. And, without him, well, he doesn’t really know what’s left.

He’s been tossed a lifeline here and there when he’s built up the nerve to call Sam at Stanford—only a handful of times over the past couple of years. The knots and twists in his stomach unfurled when Sam picked up the phone. Accepted and acknowledged his presence. That he’s still here, he remembers he has a brother. Even when that brother had to risk the wrath of John if he ever found out a connection was made.

But this day, wrapped in fur, small, and defenseless, he’s reminded of what could be left for him. Selina softened around him in his puppy form. Her smiles widened. She shined sweet and gentle. 

They holed up in the apartment for safety. Scampered out to the backyard for potty breaks and played fetched with a tennis ball. It’s the sunniest day he’s felt in years. Warm. Light. Clear. Fresh.

It’s the snuggles at the end of that day that he loved the best. Allowed entry into Selina’s bedroom. Allowed to hop onto the mattress and curl atop the crushed velvet comforter. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Dean. No one gets to spend the night in my bed.”

He pushed in close, nuzzled into the layers that separated their bodies. Her energy - different, charged, holding what he thinks is potential magic - gives him comfort.

He slept like a baby.

“Oh! Dean!” Selina screamed. 

Dean eyes popped open. 

He’s chilly. 

Bigger.

He’s back.

He’s naked.

“Shit!” Dean barked out in his human voice. He glanced at Selina's side of the bed. An upheld hand shielded her view. A racing heart matched the speed of his legs swinging off the bed, standing up.

But he doesn’t have a fucking clue where his clothes are.

Selina pointed to the bedroom door, still not daring to look at him. “Living room. Side table, by the chair.” She squeaked.

He fled the scene, spotted his folded clothes. Faster than a cowboy caught fooling around with a farmer’s daughter, he donned his underwear, t-shirt, and jeans. He called out, “All clear. Nothing more to see here!” His cheeks blazed with humiliation under his attempt at nonchalance.

Selina crept through the doorway. Cheeks red and flamed. Excited, amused, and happy. Remnants of the smiles bestowed upon him yesterday in his canine form. “You’re back,” she sighed.

Dean outstretched his arms for display purposes. “I’m back.”

“How do you feel? Any different? Weird?”

He stopped to actually think, taking a moment to process. “Um, kind of hungover.”

Selina nodded, exhaled. “Okay. That’s normal, from what I’ve been told.”

Dean chuckled. “Nothing normal about this.”

“For us, it is.” Selina corrected.

Selina doesn’t skimp on the bacon for breakfast.

The celebratory feast tasted sublime, well-earned. He was starving.

Sat around the small bistro table, they talked as they ate. Their conversations before the spell had been curt, filled with sass. Selina had snapped at him with every one of her responses. He’d understood, of course. Even if he hadn’t given her an inch of understanding in his smart-ass attitude. She’d been under immense pressure. The stakes were high, and the outcome relied heavily on her ability not to screw up.

Man, did he understand.

Now, they’d both mellowed with the shared experience. Relief. Success. Dean cataloged every inch of her. Human eyes took in all the vibrant colors hidden from his doggie view. Her purple eyes and porcelain skin held an ethereal quality. A tad punk with violet highlights and a nose ring. She was beautiful.

“What was it like?” Selina dolloped more scrambled eggs on his plate. She leaned in, hanging on his every morsel of information.

“Man,” Dean snorted. “Trapped in a funhouse mirror, with none of the fun.”

“But, you still felt like you?”

“Yep.” He chomped away on a strip of bacon.

“You understood me,” she stated. “I could tell.”

He tilted his head in question.

Selina giggled. “Yeah, you’d give me one of those expressions like you were thinking things over. Wanting to communicate.”

“Hmmm,” Dean nodded. Lips smacked. He wanted to ask in a way that didn’t make it seem like he was overly concerned about the answer. “I know you said there wasn’t any telepathic stuff going on… you couldn’t read any of my thoughts?”

Her head shook, matter of fact. “Not a one. Which would have been super helpful if I could’ve. You typically can’t get that kind of bond or connection at my level. And, more often than not, that’s pretty rare. A familiar type situation.”

He chewed his thoughts down.

“I wouldn’t have pulled off the reversal spell that cured Esme if it hadn’t been for your plan.” Selina sipped her coffee.

Dean cocked his head, emphasizing the ridiculousness of that statement. “You would’ve figured something out.”

“Not as quick as I needed to.” Selina shook her head. “Not without your help. Making it so that the reversal spell had to be performed by the greenest of Esme’s students and without any coven assistance… the priestess wanted it to be next to impossible.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Selina grinned. “Even with fleas?”

Dean shivered. “Yeah, that I could’ve done without.”

“I’m glad you came back all in one piece. I was really worried there would be some pet residue. Like a tail or floppy ears.”

“I don’t know,” Dean contemplated. “A tail might come in handy.”

The thought had them both laughing.

“So,” Selina began, “any chance that brother you mentioned, Sam, is gonna find out about any of this?”

“No way. Not ever.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I hope you get to see him soon. The way you talk about him. He seems like a pretty great guy. I don’t think he’d tease you too much about being a beagle.”

“You don’t know, Sam.” Dean almost added he probably didn’t know him anymore, either, but pursed his lips shut. 

“I owe you, big time.” Selina offered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I should get dressed and we should go out. Let me take you on a proper tour of New-or-lins.” Selina drawled, “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

Dean swallowed hard and locked eyes with her. “I don’t know. We could probably just stay in and find some ways to let the good times roll.”

Selina side-eyed him, but Dean sensed the interest brewing underneath the show. “Didn’t you say you’d rather roll around in the mud with a pig than ingratiate yourself with a witch when we first met?”

He shrugged. “I think I can make an exception for you.”

Selina held a hand to her chest. “I’m honored.”

He grinned. “You should be.”

The moment was perfect for Dean to lean over and kiss her.

Of course, that’s when John called.

John needed him. There was no time for a tour of the French Quarter or even a half hour of good times in Selina’s apartment.

Dean stood at the door and waited as Selina packed him a breakfast sandwich for the road. “Don’t you think you’ve fed me enough?”

She waved a hand in the air, walking towards him. “Hard to tell. You never stop eating.”

He grabbed the bag she presented. “Thanks.”

“It’s the very least I could do. Thank you again, Dean.”

Instinctively, he wrapped her up in a hug. “Anytime.”

She whispered in his ear. “Next time you swing by, look me up.”

He breathed in the scent of her - wanting something else to remember her by - and placed a kiss atop her forehead. Anything more and he knew he’d never leave. “Absolutely.”

It wasn’t until he descended the stairs and was out the back door, away from Selina’s view, that he gave into the urge to paw at his ear like a dog.

Yeah, the next time he called Sam - which he felt would be soon - there was no way he was telling him about any of this.

Well, he might mention the beautiful witch he met in New Orleans with the purple eyes. And how she had been just the thing he needed to scratch that itch.

[imagine-silk]

Christmas with the Hackett's Quarry Counselors

【Jacob】 Huge family party that he's really excited for.

He looks forward to the holidays in general. Bunch of parties, and drinking, and having fun with friends and family. What's not to like? Because he loves family parties he brings you with him rather than going to yours.

His family all make their opinion on you known. Aunts making fun of him blushing over you. Uncle making fun of him blushing over you. It's a lot of making fun of him. Those who don't take it in good humor take it in offense. Like his grandmother who calls you a harlet for driving away his ex, Emma. Or his dad thinking he's settling for less. All of it he fights back on and fully tells them he doesn't care what they think.

【Dylan】 Showing his nerdness with his science by baking cookies.

He likes Christmas as much as the next person but he's more quiet at home so he's not the loudest in the room anymore. In fact, no one expects him to cause any kind of ruckus. So him confining himself to the kitchen isn't surprising. The only thing his family goes over to him is to talk about his hand, or lack thereof. He blames it on the bears.

He keeps to himself by doing all the baking. Fresh cookies are better than stale ones, so he's busy, go talk to someone else. His plan works even better because he gets to keep you, seeing as he only has one hand. No one can say shit about it.

【Ryan】 Takes his sister out on the town.

Him and his aren't exactly rolling in money. He's also not on great terms with his family. Once he was old enough he started taking his little sister out for the holidays to celebrate by themselves. Now that you were added to the mix it made him feel easier.

It's one of the first times you visited with his sister and he was a bit scared she wouldn't like you. If she didn't it would be a bit of a deal-breaker. But she basically crawls all over you. He protests but ultimately you pitch in paying for the whole ordeal. Buy a few things and get food from stands. At the end of the night you're both tired with a little girl sleeping on his back. It all feels so warm in the snow.

【Kaitlyn】 Spends half of the day at Jacob's.

She's lived next door for her whole life and she's never been one to stay still. During the whole day she goes in and out of both of their houses. People notice how little she does it this year though. All she says about it is that she doesn't like the cold and she stays out of the kitchen.

Jacob and his family welcome her warmly so you get the same treatment no questions asked. They know she doesn't go for people on whim, you're good, no vetting process. Her family is different. They are wary of you but don't want to show it, resulting in some very uncomfortable moments.

【Abi】 Hides from her party.

Parties aren't her thing, she says that openly. She tells her family she's going to your party and you tell your family you're going to her's. After that you sneak back into her room and lock the door. Her family's so loud they will never hear you. Her little brother at some point tries to sneak in, thinking she's gone, but the door is straight up barred so you just hear his whole process because he says what he's narrationg himself.

It's like any other day honestly. Talking about college and eating like shit. She has all her art things and you have your laptop to play games. You have weird mini conversations back to back. Like you make comments about a show character, then silence, then she builds off of it, and it goes back and forth like that.

【Nick】 Plays in the snow way too long.

Normally he goes super far into the forest but not this year. He's always pretty close to the backyard. When his family asks he just says he had enough of the woods in Hackett's Quarry. All his little cousins try to pull him further and you have to help him say 'no'. Half of them hate you after that. And his older cousins don't trust you. Nick goes off to be a camp counselor then comes back not the same with someone who's also a bit off. But you love him and he loves his family, so you deal without saying anything and he doesn't notice.

He spends hours out with his cousins and by the time he goes inside he feels like ice, even saying he feels sharp because of the sudden warmth. Before the party ends you hide with him in his room because he started feeling sick. It wasn't at all like his fever at the quarry but the idea freaks him out.

[evernest]

Urban Soccer Park partnered with @San Jose Earthquakes to bring the new "Thrive Court' to PayPal Park! Check out this video to learn more about how the new and exciting addition will elevate their fan zone and benefit the community.

For more on bringing the Urban Soccer Park experience to your community, visit https://www.urbansoccerpark.com

Urban Soccer Park is a unique combination of sport and court that allows both players and spectators to be immersed in a fast-paced, high-energy game. Help us meet soccer demands in your neighborhood with an Urban Soccer Park, and see your community thrive. At Urban Soccer Park less is more. How do we know less is more? Why are we so confident in mini-soccer?

[lonelypond]

Second Place Pumpkin

NicoMaki, RinPana, Love Live, 700 words, 1/1

NicoMaki and RinPana Halloween pumpkin carving.

Second Place Pumpkin

Nico and Hanayo’s playlist of choice leaned Kpop. So Maki had to fight off her finger tapping to increasingly catchy rhythms while being unable to distract herself by singing along. Actually it was knife tapping, as Maki had a carving tool gripped tightly in one hand, the other bracing an increasingly slippery pumpkin.

With a squishy sound something wet slapped against Maki’s cheek, the only warning Rin giggles.

“Hey! Knife.” Maki waved the tool.

That tweaked Nico’s older sister radar. The mini marauder turned to glare until Rin ducked behind the large pumpkin she and Hanayo were turning into a smiling cat face.

“No blood. Only pumpkin guts.” And with an even eviller glare, Nico pitched pumpkin guts in the air, giggling in a screechy register.

Giggling, Hanayo doubled over. Maki rolled her eyes at her best friends and *star dazzle eyes* girlfriend.

“Let Nico see your pumpkin!”

“No.” Maki said flatly, blocking Nico’s view, sheer muslin taped over the pumpkin’s face.

“Nico’s is the cutest.” Nico spun hers, only a broad smile carved into it.

“It doesn’t have eyes. No eyes not cute.”

Rin nodded agreement.

“Nico is working on a wink.” Nico winked, which still caused Maki shivers.

Wet pumpkin smell was everywhere, warm cider smell slowly eclipsing. With an extra dose of cinnamon sugary goodness from the cider donuts Maki had the Nishikino’s chef prepare. Maki was happy that her friends were so eager to learn about the American Halloween traditions that had fascinated her, although Rin’s mischief night plans were getting increasingly elaborate. But tonight, together in Maki’s backyard, pumpkin guts flying, laughter rising up to the slim and spying moon, was a great way to kick off mid October cool. 

 Maki leaned back, stretching her arms and fingers.

Nico glomped onto her ribs, squeezing air out of her, “Show Nico.”

“Sing for me.”

“Sing for Maki?” Nico said archly, “what shall I sing for the famous composer?”

"I know, I know” Hanayo bounced, excited.

“Nico knows too.” Tools down, Nico clapped her hands together, buoyant under the fairy lights.

It's a magical

Fushigi ga guuzen o maneiteru?

Aeta no wa aeta no wa suteki na unmei

It's a magical

Nagareru hoshi wa mikata na no

Negaimashou negaimashou ashita no kiseki o

All four girls were spinning, clapping, laughing, singing, falling into a goopy pumpkin hug.

Maki detached first, brushing pumpkin guts off her torso, “I’m going to need a shower and change of clothes.”

“Change of costume.” Nico glomped onto her girlfriend again, enjoying Maki’s relaxed vibe.

“Not until the party.”

“Aw, that’s two weeks.”

“But it’ll be so much  fun to be surprised by what everyone’s wearing, won’t it, Rin-chin.”

“You betcha, Kayo-chin. But ours’ll be the best…”

“Shhhh.” Hanayo pulled Rin into a shy hug to prevent a costume reveal.

Maki laughed. “There is one reveal we can do tonight.”

“Your pumpkin.” Nico grabbed for the fabric, but Maki caught her wrist.

“My pumpkin. And the reason why your pumpkin is only the second cutest pumpkin in the universe.

Maki ripped off the cloth, revealing a stunningly accurate upper torso of a smiling Nico, in the middle of her Nico Nico Ni gesture.

Nico fell back, Maki’s hand slipping to her waist.

“It was the scariest thing I could think of.”

Rin threw a string of seeds at Maki. 

Nico was open mouthed. “How did you…you’re not an…”

Maki chuckled, “I got Hanayo to put her origami skills to work and make me a template. All I had to do was follow the lines.”

Her parents would have complimented her deft carving skills and praised her future as a surgeon. But her beloved friends were a safe zone, protecting her from parental expectations.

“My Maki-chan’s the best!” Nico smacked a kiss on Maki’s cheek, a much better sensation than pumpkin guts.

“My Kayo-chin’s the coolest.” Rin kissed her own girlfriend on the cheek.

No one was going to argue with either of them as the moon winked behind a cloud.

A/N: Love Live Idol Heaven Discord server is having their annual Promptober Fest, daily prompts, 4000 character limit.

[reese5126]

Soccer Rebounder Walls for All Skill Levels

Soccer enthusiasts know that the right equipment can make a significant difference in performance and enjoyment of the game. Whether you're a professional player, a coach, or simply a soccer lover looking to improve your skills, investing in high-quality gear is crucial. we will explore various soccer equipment options, including the soccer rebounder wall, foldable soccer goals, high-quality soccer goals, and mini soccer goals. Let's dive into how each of these can enhance your training and gameplay.

The Benefits of a Soccer Rebounder Wall

A soccer rebounder wall is an essential training tool for players of all levels. This equipment is designed to help improve passing, ball control, and shooting accuracy. The rebounder wall allows players to practice independently, returning the ball at different angles and speeds, which simulates real-game scenarios. Using a soccer rebounder wall regularly can lead to significant improvements in your reaction time and overall ball-handling skills. It’s a versatile piece of equipment that can be adjusted to different angles, making it suitable for practicing various techniques, from volleys to ground passes.

Advantages of Foldable Soccer Goals

For players and coaches who need portability and convenience, foldable soccer goals are a game-changer. These goals are designed to be easily set up and taken down, making them perfect for temporary fields, backyards, or training sessions that require frequent relocation. Foldable soccer goals typically come with durable materials that can withstand repeated use and exposure to different weather conditions. Despite their lightweight and portable design, they don’t compromise on stability or performance. These goals are ideal for both practice and casual play, providing a reliable target for shooting drills and small-sided games.

Why Choose High-Quality Soccer Goals

Investing in high-quality soccer goals is a smart decision for anyone serious about the game. High-quality goals are built to last, often featuring robust frames and weather-resistant nets that can endure intense play and harsh outdoor conditions. These goals are not just about durability; they also ensure a professional level of performance. High-quality soccer goals maintain their shape and integrity, providing a consistent playing experience. Whether you’re setting up a permanent pitch or equipping a training facility, choosing high-quality goals ensures safety and reliability, allowing players to focus on improving their skills without worrying about equipment failure.

Perfect for Practice: Mini Soccer Goals

Mini soccer goals are perfect for young players, small spaces, and specific training drills. These compact goals are excellent for developing accuracy and precision in shooting, as their smaller size requires players to aim more carefully. Mini soccer goals are also great for fun, small-sided games that emphasize skill development and teamwork. They are easy to transport and set up, making them ideal for impromptu games in the park or quick practice sessions in the backyard. These goals help keep the game accessible and enjoyable for players of all ages and skill levels.

Whether you’re looking to improve your skills with a soccer rebounder wall, need the convenience of foldable soccer goals, want the durability of high-quality soccer goals, or seek the versatility of mini soccer goals, there are options available to meet every need. Investing in the right equipment can elevate your training and playing experience, helping you to develop your skills and enjoy the game to its fullest. So, equip yourself with the best gear and take your soccer game to the next level!

[allstyle-retrofit-12345]

Backyard Blitz: Bring Soccer Home with Vallerta Goals & Nets

Looking to bring the beautiful game to your backyard? Vallerta soccer goals and 12x6 nets are the perfect solution for young athletes to hone their skills and have endless fun!

Vallerta: Built to Last

Vallerta isn't just another brand of soccer goals. They offer premium quality at an affordable price, making them a great choice for families and aspiring players. Here's what sets them apart:

Durable Construction: goals nets use heavy-duty, powder-coated galvanized steel frames. This ensures they can withstand enthusiastic play and the elements, lasting for years to come.

Regulation Size: Their 12x6 soccer goals are the perfect size for young players. This matches the AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization) standards, making it ideal for practicing game-like situations.

All-Weather Performance: Vallerta nets are crafted from weatherproof, square-knotted, triple-twisted polyethylene twine. Rain or shine, you can keep practicing without worries.

Quick and Easy Setup: Vallerta goals boast a user-friendly design with locking banana clip connectors. You'll be up and running in just 10-20 minutes, leaving more time for soccer fun!

The Perfect Match: 12x6 Soccer Nets

Vallerta goals come bundled with high-quality 12x6 nets. These nets are designed to:

Handle Powerful Shots: The strong twine construction ensures the net can take the punishment of even the hardest kicks.

Stay Secure: Velcro straps or clips (depending on the model) keep the net firmly attached to the goal frame, preventing frustrating detachments during play.

Withstand the Outdoors: Made from weatherproof materials, these nets won't succumb to rain, sun, or wind.

Bringing Soccer Home with Vallerta

With a Vallerta soccer goal and net in your backyard, you're creating a space for:

Skill Development: Young players can practice shooting, dribbling, and passing, all in the comfort of their own home.

Endless Fun: Backyard soccer games become a reality, fostering a love for the sport and creating lasting memories.

Active Lifestyle: Vallerta goals encourage kids to get outside, be active, and have a healthy dose of fun.

So, if you want to transform your backyard into a mini soccer pitch, Vallerta soccer goals and 12x6 soccer nets are the winning combination! They're built to last, provide excellent performance, and, most importantly, spark a passion for the beautiful game.

[vallerta1234]

Game Changer: Transforming Training with Pop Soccer Goals and Rebounder Nets

Soccer, known as the beautiful game, demands precision, agility, and constant practice. Whether you're training for your next big match or simply honing your skills for the love of the sport, having the right equipment can make all the difference. In this blog post, we'll delve into the world of pop-up soccer goals, soccer rebounder nets, and the versatile 12x6 soccer goal, exploring how these tools can enhance your training sessions and elevate your game to new heights.

Pop-Up Soccer Goals: Pop-up soccer goals have revolutionized the way players train and play the game. These portable, lightweight goals can be easily set up in minutes, making them ideal for impromptu matches in the backyard, at the park, or even indoors. Their convenience and portability mean you can take your training anywhere, ensuring that you never miss an opportunity to work on your skills. Pop-up goals come in various sizes to suit different age groups and skill levels, providing a versatile training solution for players of all abilities.

Benefits of Pop-Up Soccer Goals:

Portability: Easily transportable, pop-up goals allow you to practice wherever you go, whether it's a family outing or a team training session.

Quick Setup: With no assembly required, you can focus more on training and less on setting up equipment.

Space-Saving: Perfect for small spaces, pop-up goals can be folded down for compact storage when not in use.

Versatility: From shooting practice to small-sided games, pop-up goals offer endless training possibilities for individuals and teams alike.

Soccer Rebounder Nets:

A soccer rebounder net is a valuable training tool designed to improve passing accuracy, first touch, and reaction time. Consisting of a net stretched taut across a frame, rebounders rebound the ball back to the player after each pass or shot, allowing for continuous practice without the need for a partner. Whether you're working on volleys, headers, or ground passes, a rebounder net can help sharpen your skills and build muscle memory in various game situations.

Benefits of Soccer Rebounder Nets:

Solo Training: Ideal for solo practice sessions, rebounder nets enable players to work on their skills independently.

Repetition: With the ball rebounding back after each touch, players can get in more repetitions in less time, accelerating skill development.

Versatility: From practicing crosses to improving first touch, rebounder nets cater to a wide range of training drills.

Adaptability: Rebounder nets can be adjusted to vary the angle and trajectory of the ball, simulating different game scenarios and challenges.

12x6 Soccer Goal:

The 12x6 soccer goal is a popular choice for training sessions and small-sided games. Its dimensions make it suitable for players of all ages, providing enough space for shooting practice while still being manageable for younger players. Whether you're setting up a mini-tournament in the backyard or conducting drills on the training pitch, a 12x6 goal offers the perfect balance of size and versatility.

Benefits of the 12x6 Soccer Goal:

Appropriate Size: The 12x6 dimensions strike a balance between being spacious enough for realistic gameplay and compact enough for easy setup and transportation.

Goalkeeper Training: With a width of 12 feet, goalkeepers have ample space to work on their positioning, reflexes, and shot-stopping abilities.

Scoring Opportunities: The larger goal size encourages players to aim for precision and accuracy, leading to more goal-scoring opportunities during training sessions and games.

Adaptability: Whether you're practicing shooting, crossing, or defending, the 12x6 goal can accommodate a variety of training drills and exercises.

Conclusion:

Incorporating pop-up soccer goals, rebounder nets, and the versatile 12x6 soccer goal into your training regimen can take your game to the next level. Whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting out, these tools offer countless opportunities for skill development, tactical awareness, and pure enjoyment of the sport. So, invest in quality equipment, get out on the field, and unleash your full potential as a soccer player.