#sending out one letter at a time. / queue.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[melpomenc]

WHY CAN I NOT LOOK UP BASIC INFORMATION ON THE INTERNET ANYMORE IM GOING INSANE

[dawnled]

tag post #1 ( ooc tags ) !

[moony-mari]

1:58 am - lando norris 

Lando norris x fem!reader Summary: 1:58 am the time he walked out of your life or 1:58 am the time he walked back into your life Warnings: hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. max is max fewtrell, italics are flashbacks a/n: put my playlist on shuffle and started writing! Hope you like it send me requests if you want an idea to be written! 

☆☆☆☆

1:58 am the exact time he walked out of your shared apartment leaving you alone, tears cascading down your face as you wondered why he went away. 

Your knees gave out as you sank to the couch, tears blurring your eyes as you opened your phone, your heart clenching as you looked at the photo of lando that lit up the dim room. Immediately you opened your email drafting  a letter of resignation to send to all the quadrant members. 

Placing your phone down, you began to walk around the apartment, memories flooding your mind 

The rain hit the windows harshly causing you and Lando to look at eachother “we're gonna get soaked” he laughed. You'd gone out for dinner and decided it was a good idea to walk to to the restaurant completely forgetting how brutal the UK weather can be 

“I guess we'll have to run home. You wanna race me lan?”

“You don't stand a chance” he smirked at you as he took your hand and led you to the door. 

He was right, you couldn't win,completely drenched hair dripping you finally caught up to him trying to catch your breath ”you could've let me win arsehole” 

“Where's the fun in that baby” he took your hand, and as if on queue music started playing from the car parked on the side “let's dance” 

You're not much for dancing but for him you did. And so you danced in the rain, laughing like a bunch of idiots. Lando pulled you in for a sweet kiss which you gladly reciprocated, until you jumped the honk of a car breaking you apart.

“Do you want to come home or are you just gonna keep standing in the rain all night?” max called 

“Oi you muppet you played the song didn't you? You should’ve shouted us before” 

“Believe it or not i actually like you two together so i gave you a cute moment don't worry i got pictures and videos so i expect a thank you”

“Thank you max” you giggled at his antics and pulled lando to the car 

You placed the frame face down not wanting to remember anymore, the hole in your heart only growing as you continued to roam through the dark halls, leading to your bedroom. Checking your phone one more time pleading for a message a call anything to tell you that he was okay and that he was coming home 

☆☆☆☆

Nov 20th was the date. 2 weeks. 14 days. Complete radio silence. Your resignation had not gone down well. Max showing up to your place pleading with you to come back saying Lando was an idiot for what he did and how you shouldn't throw 3 years of hard work at quadrant because Lando was being a dipshit. Ria and the boys spammed you with messages.you told them you’d finish all the videos scheduled this year but after that you were done. You couldn't work with him anymore. 

How could you go back? 9 years of friendship and a 4 year relationship down the drain like it meant nothing. you’ve been there since the beginning. You held him while he cried and celebrated with him after a good race. But most importantly you loved him. You thought he loved you too. 

Dread consumed you as ria dropped off your abu dhabi paddock passes reminding you that quadrant scheduled a video filming the last race of the year from the mclaren garage. You had no choice but to go. It was work after all. So you packed your bags (full of Lando's hoodies that still smell like him) , got on the plane and checked into your room on wednesday night.Declining offers to go out because you knew he'd be there and you weren't ready to face him yet. 

Saturday rolled around (too quickly) and you were getting ready to go to the paddock to watch quali. The Mclarens had been looking unbelievable this weekend, the progress they've made throughout the year clearly showing with both of the drivers being at the top in both fp1 and fp2. Your mind wandered to the possibility of Lando winning a race. Your heart clenched. A knock on your door brought you back to reality. “Are you almost ready, love quali is starting in 30 minutes? The cars waiting in the lobby ” ria spoke through the door. You grabbed what you needed and headed out. 

As predicted, Oscar finished fp3 in p1 with Lando just behind. Your heart rate was skyrocketing as you walked closer to the McLaren garage.Max knew how hard this was for you so he pulled you aside “i've known you for 9 years. I know when you're not okay. I know this is hard but this is the last time you'll be with us. Forget lando. I mean quadrant. Aarav, steve, ethan ,niran, ria, me the people you've spent the last few years with building this brand so enjoy yourself. I may be Lando's best friend but you know you'll always have me.” 

Tears pooled in your eyes as you hugged him pouring everything into it not being able to answer him verbally. You wiped your tears and continued to walk to the garage with Max next to you. 

Luckily Lando was already in the car when you got there so you settled into the familiar garage missing the feeling of watching live from the garages. Quali  went past in a blur and now all you could focus on was Lando's car going round the track setting purple sectors all around. Screams erupted as he crossed the finish line and secured pole position. Hugging all your friends and fully embracing the moment.

Lando soon made it back into the garage and Max gave you the heads up so you could go back to the hotel. You knew you'd have to face him tomorrow but maybe tomorrow you would be ready. You settled into bed and hoped you would be okay and drifted off to sleep. 

Loud knocking woke you up. Looking around for your phone you checked the time. 1:58 am. Walking up to the door thinking it was just ria you pulled on a hoodie and opened the door.You wrong. Lando stood on the opposite end of the door. Bags under his eyes and his cheeks more hollow than you remembered  he just stood there defeated. Until he finally broke the silence that consumed all the air around you

“Can I come in?” 

[jammechanics]

And. We. Are. Back! Jam Mechanics returns for season 2 with our first guest prompter (Our longtime collaborator and artist, ⁠@deepblueink2d⁠!). In our first episode back we reveal the fate of Jam Mechanics Mansion (Castle?) and reflect on the ocean that separates our two co-hosts Jam Mechanics is a podcast hosted by Matt (@narcissistcookbook) and Bug (@bughuntermusic) where we are challenged to write a song demo from scratch every episode.

If you'd like downloadable files for this episode (and the demos we showed off), ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠you can go to our Bandcamp⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to pay-what-you-want to support us!

Our brand-new discord is here⁠⁠⁠

and follow us on Instagram, YouTube, etc! Please share the show (and our music) with friends!

-- SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE BELOW --

Challenge: Transatlanticism

BUG'S SONG Title: Agamemnon Lyrics: I am aboard the Agamemnon, we are laying down a line It's gonna cross the ocean floor, the greatest project of our time A telegraph from Newfoundland will reach the Irish Shores but by by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

I am aboard the Agamemnon, laying cables in the sea For the purpose of the president to parley with the queen As for me, I've got this letter that I'll send you in the morn but by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I keep your photo in a locket to remind me of my home

but while aboard the Agamemnon I have so much time to dream of a world where I can reach you with no middle-man between And maybe when we're done I'll get my turn, as a reward but I never got that chance, now you don't love me anymore When I made it to Niagara, you didn't love me anymore

You will not love me by the time you read this note You told me you would wait if I had to go I think of you so often with no way to let you know

This is only the beginning, this simple cable in the sea Soon we'll have radios and satellites and waves we cannot see No one'll know the pain of loving one they cannot reach

I'd commandeer the Agamemnon and I'd sail it back to shore it's just a faster way to learn that you don't love me anymore so I'll keep laying this cable for the lovers not yet born so that they may never hear "No, I don't love you anymore"

MATT'S SONG Title: The Tollbooth Lyrics: When Britain's national health service was launched in 1948 it set sail in the wake of the second world war when the country's citizens the upper and lower classes both the rich and the desperately poor had served together, side by side and the ones who survived the horrors came home demanding to no surprise more

we did not fight, they said in our millions just for things to return to the way they were we didn't die they said in our hundreds of thousands just to save a country where the leading cause of death is poverty and perhaps for the first time in british history the aristocrats and the working class agreed on something largely that arming the nation and teaching them how to fight and die for what they believe in makes their demands somewhat more convincing

and so barely three years after the soldiers had come home on july 5th, 1948 the british health system was torn out by the follicles and rebuilt in a new vision that it would be free at point of service, that no one, NO ONE, would be turned away or trapped into debt by lack of personal means that it would be available to everyone who walked through the doors of a hospital or a GP's office and that the well off wouldn't be able to skip the queue this was radical beyond comprehension a truly universal healthcare system doctors across the nation barred their doors and hired personal security so sure were they that the empowered impoverished would storm their offices demanding medicine and aid only to find on that monday morning a polite queue of people in need who for the first time were able to receive the treatment they would have had since birth if they had been born into a wealthier family

the trouble is healthcare is one of those futureproof industries like plumber people are always going to need water and if you can fix their pipes you are, within reason, set for life and the hospital and the doctor's surgery are no exception people are always going to get sick they're always going to get injured at the very very least everyone has to be born and everyone has to die and you would be an idiot would you not if you had the opportunity and the presence of mind to not set up a tollbooth at the well-worn bridges that lead into and out of this life

i am being faceitious of course who thinks like this who is so calculating and cruel that they would look at the legions of dying and sick and feel not compassion but greed who would see not the faces of their own parents, friends and children but a sea of investment a captured market a well of bottomless profit

it would be inappropriate for me to delve too deep into the catacombs that are the American Healthcare System if you are listening from those shores, then you know better than i do how it feels to live in fear of a broken bone of a cough that won't go away of a necessary surgery or a birth in the family I have personally met people who were having to choose between treatment for a treatable disease and a slow death So as to have something to leave their loved ones in their will A meagre windfall, after all, is infinitely preferable over a cascade of debt Maybe, at best, you are simply aware of how lucky you are To not fear these things as many do The privilege of being able to treat mild maladies as the inconvenience they are rather than an existential threat

I bring this up only because The profit machine that is the american healthcare system Is hungry And needs to be fed There is no such thing as too much money There is no endgame in an investment portfolio Where you find the princess in the very last castle and the credits roll There isn't a kill screen where the arcade machine craps out and kicks you back to the beginning The score just keeps getting bigger and bigger, the numbers getting longer and longer, Separated by decimal points and letters and commas And when the numbers get so unwieldy that we run out of space, Eh, we'll just start printing the end of year reports in landscape The machine needs to eat And the painkillers and bloodied sheets of 333 million people could only satisfy it for so long Its eyes, inevitably, have turned east

And what do you think it sees? When you have broken your arm and are getting it cast at 3am When your parents start visibly ageing and wilting When your child gets a cough that won't go away Do you think it wants to help? Or do you think it wants to fucking eat them?

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 2

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter 2: ‘Put It On Me’

Joel Miller: cold, aloof, and famously uncharitable. 

Not a man you could ask for a favour. Especially not to join a stranger in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly journey across the country.  

But Joel, despite his reputation, was not a god, he was only a man and that meant he could be bribed or blackmailed, perhaps. 

Drugs or alcohol were not an option. Despite being the most sought after product in the Qz, Joel wouldn’t be interested. He was the one who sold them. 

A dull ache had begun to spread across the back of Juliet’s skull. She dropped her head onto the table and felt the sweat coating her skin stick to the glossy paper of the map. 

The spiral turning in her mind started to pick up speed again, her darkest thoughts now gripping her lungs. Juliet forced herself to take a deep breath, and another, and another. Her father knew where she was now, she had to get out of her apartment and out of the QZ, fast. 

Juliet thought back to every interaction she could remember having with Joel, every time their eyes met or every time he looked away too quickly. Joel was impenetrable, always holding his thoughts close to his chest. 

Juliet sat up quick, her hand instantly reaching to her forehead to calm the wave of dizziness that washed over her. 

She remembered something: 

Abe, a kind but pliant man, worked the radio for the QZ and held ‘office hours’ on weekdays. Anyone in Boston who wanted to contact another QZ waited in a large queue in the dusty hallway outside Abe’s apartment. 

Not Joel, though. 

Juliet was walking through the building a few days ago when she shuffled past the line of bored residents. With no intention of stopping, she kept her head down and avoided eye-contact, as always. Her pace slowed, however, when she heard a familiar name. Juliet turned her head and noticed two men complaining, not very discreetly, about Joel: 

“This isn’t the first time he’s done this,” grumbled a tall man who leaned against the peeling wallpaper. 

His friend grunted and moved closer, “he just walks past, skipping the whole line like we ain’t even here” he replied, rolling his eyes. 

The tall one snorted, “As if he’s the only bastard in Boston who needs to use the radio.”

Juliet paused, now incredibly interested in the conversation of the two whining men. Joel was sending messages out of the QZ? To who?

Juliet continued to walk past the queue and rounded the corner until she could safely tuck into a dark corner and attempt to catch a glimpse inside Abe’s apartment/office. 

There he was. Joel Miller, sliding a piece of crumpled tin foil across Abe’s desk.

It didn’t take a genius to know what was inside. 

Joel sat forward, his elbows now resting on the dark oak as he watched Abe open the silver package. She was only able to catch a glimpse of his profile but Juliet could still make out the hard clench of Joel’s jaw, locked in place, as he waited for Abe to take a puff. 

They started to talk and Juliet inched forward, careful to remain in the shadow of the corner, but she was too far away to hear any part of the conversation. It was clear it wasn’t going well - for Joel, at least. 

Seconds later, Joel abruptly rose from his chair, the screech of metal rang out along the hallway, and he stalked out of the apartment without looking back. Terrified she might be caught snooping, Juliet was gone before he reached the doorway. 

Juliet shook her head, she had forgotten all about that strange observation, having been immediately caught up in another Firefly ambush when she left the building. 

Now though, the memory flushed her body with adrenaline. She sat up straight, the ache in her head had begun to recede. A plan started to take form in her mind, the different puzzle pieces clicking together. There was someone important to Joel outside of the QZ. If she found out who that was, she could use that information to her advantage.

That meant she had to pay a visit to Abe. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t share intel for free. 

Juliet turned to the window on her right, the glass was clouded, aged with the building. Still, Juliet could make out the dark blue sky as night rapidly descended on Boston. Shock had dulled the passage of time, the minutes silently passing around her. 

Juliet walked to her cupboard, her steps quick as she grabbed her hidden backpack filled with supplies ready to be used at a moment’s notice. With one last mournful look at her apartment, Juliet made her way across the hall to Kenny’s door, the neighbour who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

He broke into her apartment on more than one occasion. It was only fair she repaid the favour. 

Juliet pulled a hair pin from the inside pocket of her jacket and started to work on Kenny's rusted lock. Her neighbour was notorious for arriving back home seconds before curfew, always narrowly missing the enforcers. So Juliet had some time, less than an hour to be exact. 

Seconds later, Juliet heard the familiar metallic pop and she was in. Similar to most in the QZ, Abe was very receptive to bribes. She had witnessed it first hand when Joel expertly slid that tinfoil in his direction and Juliet watched a lazy grin glide over Abe’s face. 

Good thing Juliet knew someone else Joel sold to and good thing that person was stupid enough to leave his supply on his dining table where anyone with a hair pin could find it. The small, chalky white tablets were now safely tucked in her jacket pocket. 

Juliet made her way out of the apartment, cringing as the old linoleum creaked under her cautious steps. She took the time to lock the door behind her before tiptoeing down the stairs and past Margaret’s apartment. Juliet prayed no shadows under Margaret’s door announced her departure from the building. 

Outside, the streets were quiet, most residents of the QZ probably now tucked away in their apartments. A peaceful night of relative safety was taken from Juliet the second she picked up that letter. 

She was on borrowed time anyways, Juliet always knew her father would find her eventually. 

Tendrils of doubt and fear threatened to creep back into her mind and destroy the numbness which currently clouded her thoughts. As she moved through the murky streets, Juliet wasn’t just racing against time.

When she arrived at Abe’s building, Juliet sacrificed a precious moment to rest her back against the red brick wall and let her eyes fall closed. Juliet was not a naturally hostile person, she always prioritised indifference in her daily interactions. But she was a survivor, which meant that she would do anything, be anything to ensure her safety and the survival of the people she loved. Meaning, for Ethan, she would wear a mask of hostility. 

She entered the building and hugged shadows to Abe’s apartment. Juliet didn’t wait for an invitation to enter before she stalked through the unlocked door. 

“Abe, I need a word,” Juliet declared, she kept her voice clipped and steady.

Abe stood by the radio and turned quickly at the sound of Juliet’s entrance. A puzzled expression took over his face, his mouth turned downwards. 

“Juliet? What are you doing here? It’s almost curfew,” he said, his voice cushioned with a cautious tone. 

When Juliet just stared back, Abe released a heavy sigh and walked over to his desk. He pushed back his chair and dropped himself into the padded leather. 

“Take a seat,” Abe huffed as he pointed across his desk at the vacant chair.

Juliet approached at a leisurely pace as she took the seat opposite him. She placed her backpack on the floor, leaned forward in her chair and placed her elbows on the table. Then she straightened her back, attempting to imitate the air of intimidation she had witnessed from Joel. 

“I’ll keep this short,” Juliet asserted. “I need information about Joel Miller.”

Abe’s furrowed brow deepened, confusion now etched in the fine lines of his face.

“Joel?” He asked, before sighing.“I don’t deal in information, Juliet. I just listen to the radio,” Abe replied, dismissal clear in his tone, as he shifted in his chair, moving to stand.

“Stop,” Juliet commanded. She raised her left hand and willed it to stay steady as she reached her right hand into her pocket, pulling out the pills. Just like Joel, Juliet locked eyes with Abe as she slid the contraband.

A smug smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over chest. 

“Like I said,” Juliet maintained, stretching out the words, giving Abe time to make the right decision. “I need information on Joel Miller.”

Abe stared back at her and for a moment, one terrifying moment, Juliet thought he would throw the pills back at her. But no, Abe’s irritated expression eventually transformed into a sly smile to match her own. 

“Okay. What do you want to know?” he asked, already reaching for the drugs. 

Relief was sudden and intense, it settled deep in her stomach and relaxed her tight muscles. Juliet was careful to not let it show on her face. 

“I know he has someone on the outside he’s contacting,” she paused.“I want to know who.”

Abe whistled low then tossed back one of the pills with a swig of water.

“Well, that’s a whole can of worms,” he replied. 

Juliet raised her eyebrows and made a vague gesture with her hand - go on. 

“He’s got a brother,” Abe began, swallowing rough. 

Once again, Juliet willed her features to remain neutral, to show no sign of the shock now coursing through her body. A brother? 

“He stopped responding to Joel’s messages about three weeks ago,” Abe continued.“Not like him, he usually replies within a couple days. Got Joel all worried.” 

It was Juliet’s turn to be confused. Joel, worried? Juliet had yet to see a glimmer of emotion on the man’s face. He was always so stoic, always so detached. It was a surprise to hear there was someone he cared about, someone he worried about. 

Unaware of the turmoil that raged behind Juliet’s steady features, Abe continued to speak as he rambled something about Joel’s accusation of his incompetence. Juliet collected this new information about Joel and held it close as though it was the key to getting to Ethan. It might well be. 

“I told Joel not to go after him, that it might just be a fault in the signal. But of course he wouldn’t listen,” Abe muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Juliet perked up, tuning back into the conversation… Joel needed out of the QZ.

“Where does his brother live?” coaxed Juliet, attempting to exude only vague curiosity. 

“Wyoming,” Abe replied, shaking his head. “He can’t be serious if he thinks he can travel that far alone…” he trailed off, resting his hands on the desk in front of him.

Wyoming… Juliet’s fledgling plan became a concrete shape, igniting a flicker of hope within her. Her old community, her father’s community, was in Iowa. After years of studying old maps, Juliet was almost sure that it was about halfway between Boston and Wyoming. 

This could work.  

“Is he planning on going alone?” Juliet asked, eagerness seeping into her tone. 

Abe’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, he’s been dealing for a car battery, no luck though. He can’t wait around much longer,” he replied. 

Juliet nodded as she placed her sweaty palms on the dark wood of the desk and pushed herself out of her chair, grabbing her backpack.

Abe leaned back, rolling a pill between his fingers.

“Juliet… Joel’s a capable guy but there are worse things than infected out there. I hear everything on the radio. There are raiders, there are slavers…” he trailed off again. 

Juliet knew this all too well. 

“I appreciate the concern, Abe, but that’s not what I paid you for,” cautioned Juliet. “Keep this quiet,” she warned, turning towards the door and out of the building.

She didn’t look back. 

Outside, curfew was now in place so Juliet pulled her hood up and moved silently through the dark streets. The pressure in her chest was slowly building through her entire conversation with Abe. Now, it threatened to burst. Juliet stopped on a corner and tucked herself into an alleyway. The rain had started, it splashed off the pavement and dampened her jeans. Juliet’s skin was buzzing, electrified by the string of new information about Joel. 

For years, Joel was a mystery. Juliet had learned more about Joel in that five minute conversation with Abe than she had in the three years they worked alongside each other, and now she had to use her newfound knowledge against him. 

Juliet had no other choice. She would use Joel’s desperation to sedate her own. 

Juliet looked up towards the night sky, letting the rain glide over her skin. She took a long breath, licked the water from her lips and moved out of the alley. Juliet danced along the sides of buildings as she headed towards Joel’s apartment.

She had watched him head home a few times after their shifts, his apartment in the same direction as her own. This time, though, it appeared before her so suddenly that she had to force herself to stop, to calm her racing heartbeat as she made her way to the front door. 

Shivering, Juliet gripped the door handle into the building, turning it open as her heart continued to pump more adrenaline straight into her gut.

Juliet stalked up to Joel’s apartment, releasing a trembling breath from her damp lips. This was all happening too fast, the puzzle pieces forming her plan had clicked together so quickly. All she could focus on was the bigger picture. But what about the smaller details? What would she say to Joel? Would he even recognise her? Should she knock the door and risk his neighbours hearing her? 

Juliet didn’t have to agonise over those thoughts for long. Without warning, the rapid sound of multiple locks consecutively turning reverberated through the dark hallway, before the door swung open. 

Joel Miller stood before her, one hand on the handle, the other on the chipped wood of the entryway. Juliet released a strangled gasp, her eyes widened at the sight of his permanent scowl and furrowed brow. 

“Juliet?”

[the-grand-gemini]

I have no writing skills so I'm sending this concept out into the void.

I desperately need a slow burn Gale/Tav AU where Gale, still suffering from the orb or a similar affliction has Tara go out to find enchanted items.

Queue Tav: an apprentice enchanter, who as a hobby/practice enchants whatever is around. Personal nick nacks, cutlery, cheap iron rings they buy by the dozen from a local black smith since they're made from cast offs. These are not master works, they're just practice and can't be sold until she's licensed (idk if there's such laws in Faerun but it's my imagination so there are licenses and apprenticeships!)

But! The enchantments are A+ so Tara makes a plea that poor Mr. Dekarios needs these and they're just collecting dust sitting around.

So Tav agrees and starts sending Gale enchanted trinkets through the post/Tara, because of course he's locked in his tower and isolating like he mentions in game and is barely leaving/possibly agora phobic at this point.

Over time getting to know each other through one dinner fork and loose marble enchanted with misty step or some such at a time. Tav starts wanting to impress Gale and or make him laugh while he's locked in his depressing tower.

Since he's only responded through Tara or by letter they start to try to get any reaction out of him by enchanting the most obnoxious items (an entire barrel of fruit, a taxidermy rat, a box within a box within a box, a single shoe with holes, the world's ugliest knit doily, etc, etc) until he's desperately smitten and/or about to loose his mind and stroms out to confront Tav.

Queue meet hate/cute as Gale rails against the injustice of these ridiculous items and Tav is just delighted to know that Gale of Waterdeep blushes a marvelous shade of crimson when flustered.

Idk how Gale is cured in this prompt (beauty and the beast love cures all? Idk), maybe Mystra amused by the situation frees Gale from the orb after he accepts that not all magic is high and mighty, some of it is in the small things in life?

I need it so if anyone likes this concept and wants to run with it go for it!

[hangesdarling]

hiii this is an idea for the hange love note thing, but i'm not good at writing letters or notes... but i'll try !

Hange, I'm sorry for always rejecting your advances and ignoring your gazes. I'm worried about you. Please recover soon.

(i was trying to convey something like where hange is flirty and gets subtly rejected, but after hange loses their eye the reader feels really bad and realizes how much they love and care for hange <3)

send hange a short love note!

when: before your scout training

You always knew them as the kid who tried to scrape the walls with a shovel. You lived in another village but always saw them whenever you had to go outside to get your produce from the market. You were slightly intrigued as to why a child your age wanted to dig on the walls but your curiosity was cut short when you saw Military Police officers approaching. Their presence alone reminded you of the scary tales parents tell children like you at night to instill good behavior. You ran away from the scene, hugging the goods in your arms as you rushed back home.

But fate seemed to have played a bridging chord as you met this person again before your scout training, you didn't know their name but you couldn't mistake their glasses or the fiery, determined eyes behind them.

You were in a queue, signing up for the Survey Corps when you saw their bandaged arm.  It wasn't wrapped securely and dirt accumulated on the creased rim. Retrieving memories from your childhood, it wasn't a far-fetched idea for this person to get into scrapes and such. You didn't know if the memory served you right but you felt your hand reaching for a fresh roll of bandage neatly tucked in your bag and offering it to them. They were surprised by such a thoughtful act but only nodded in gratitude when you asked them if you could replace the bandage on their arm. You could feel their eyes on you the entire time. Their eyes spoke of thankfulness and fascination, not failing to express it in words. You smiled before taking your leave as the queue signaled your turn, but not before they could utter their name: Hange.

After being enlisted in the Survey Corps, you were welcomed by another set of friends and acquaintances. Your group was always separated from Hange but they always managed to come and say hi to you or share their food as if in gratitude for the first day when you showed them kindness. At one point, you told them that they didn't have to do so much to thank you but they insisted on helping you out whenever you need.

You noticed Hange's subtle gazes on you or their flirty attitude at the limited time they were near you. But their advances always end up overlooked as you always see them as a good friend and nothing else.

At the return to Shiganshina, dread stirred on your insides, as you looked at your comrades, a sinister thought crept up your mind that maybe after this mission, you wouldn't see each other again.

The moment you charged outside, you wished to at least see Hange that morning before everything else changed your lives.

BUt later that day, hearing about Hange's squad getting caught up in the explosion shook something inside you. You felt your flesh liquefying, getting sucked dry out of your skin. Your dread and regret made a sinister pair upon tormenting your insides that your hands trembled just by holding your blades. However, seeing Hange emerge alive with a bandaged eye lifted the veil of dread over your heart, replaced by concern at the sight of their injury.

You wanted to jump in their arms, telling them how grateful you were to see them again, maybe offer to treat their bandaged eye the way you bandaged their arm the first day you met, but you were both shaken by the battle that took those you love and cared for.

Hange only acknowledged you with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before walking past as the remaining soldiers returned to the headquarters.

That night, Hange sat by the window, staring ahead at the vast midnight blue darkness along a lone white rose placed in a small jar. Too many thoughts and too many dead comrades for one small flower.

Hange recognized your entrance as you knocked on their door, acknowledging you with a single eye as you sat by the window next to them.

Nothing was exchanged but soft words masking the grief and affection lying underneath. Hange would look at you in that same subtle gaze they used to have all those years ago but this time, they felt you returning that same tender gaze.

You stood up from your seat and went into their arms, surprising Hange as they saw you initiate such an affectionate act. But no sooner, their arms gave up, no longer holding so much strength after that battle. They sank into your embrace, their wounded heart nestling to your warmth to suffice for the cold night.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 7)

Somehow, these two last POVs turned out bigger than I expected. I think I can keep up the one POV change per day here before I post the full chapter on AO3, but I don't promise anything.

Also, I have plans for how many chapters it'll be! Yay me.

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six

Till was... nervous. For more than one reason.

Firstly, he was getting ready for Mizi's concert. He'd be nervous enough to go to any show, since crowded places made him antsy, but this was a meet and greet. He bought a new jacket exclusively for this, and was trying very hard not to be weird about using perfume and generally dressing up for the occasion.

Secondly, he had Navi's number. He hadn't said anything after that first exchange, too awkward to try and make small talk but he found himself... wanting to.

He refused to let Hyuna send the messages, since she was halfway ready to demand to see Navi's ID. It was awkward but then... Then Navi had said all those things, about how much he liked Till's music, how Till deserved more recognition than what he got...

It made Till's stomach swoop, his cheeks colored red.

It reminded Till of those days when he had only 100 followers, when Navi would send 100$ donations solely to max the character limit as he talked about how much he liked Till's lyrics, how his mixing made him feel, how he couldn't believe Till didn't have a record deal yet.

After that short text conversation, Hyuna had changed her "bored office worker" theory to a "disillusioned producer", and for once Till was inclined to agree.

Still meant he was far from understanding why Navi would send him so much money.

"Till, are you ready?" Hyuna calls out, startling Till out of his thoughts. He gives a last once-over to his outfit, deems it ready, and goes to greet her.

Hyuna is wearing a black tank-top, cargo pants, hiking boots and a leather jacket he's sure once belonged to Dewey when he still ran with a motorcycle gang. She rolls his eyes at his face.

"Ready to go? We need to be in the venue in half an hour if we want to get in at a good time." He nods, checking that the clear bag he's bringing has all his necessary documents.

Tickets? Check. ID? Check. His first Mizi album and custom photocard binder? Check. A handwritten letter for Mizi? Check. Extra pens in case he or other fans need it? Check. A truly unholy number of phone charms he made himself the night before to exchange with fans? Check. He makes grabby hands to Hyuna, waiting until she puts all her stuff in the bag as well before shouldering it.

"You're such a mother hen." She says, grinning. "I heard we might not be allowed in with food, so I sent Isaac to get something from the convenience store we can eat on the way."

"Oh, good idea. He's meeting us there?" He asks, perking up. He really wasn't looking forward to surviving on granola bars for the day.

They end up meeting Isaac in the car, since he and Dewey are driving them and Hyuna wanted to re-touch her makeup. Isaac gets them both sandwiches, as well as a pack of chips to eat in the queue. He also gets two starbucks packaged drinks, black coffee for Hyuna, and caramel frappuccino for Till.

Luckily, the queue isn't too big; the meet-and-greet isn't open for a lot of people, so Till spends his time waiting by chatting with fellow fans, discussing the new album, and even meets one of his own fans, Mizi's Boots, who he remembers as an occasional chatter who mostly comes for his mixing streams.

She's very flustered that he remembers, but eventually they settle into some more normal conversations, Hyuna teasing them both about bringing so many phone charms to trade. He makes sure to put hers on his phone right away, since she takes care to pick one that matches his streaming set-up.

It also reminds him that... he has Navi's number.

He should send a message, right? Just to say he's at the venue. He did a few lives since getting the tickets, and only commented that he'd be going on the last one, so as to not give his fans any time to buy tickets to search him out instead of Mizi.

Navi had said nothing to indicate he was the one who sent the tickets, a simple "I hope hyung has fun!!" was all he sent.

He decides not to overthink it, and takes out his phone to take a selfie of him, with Hyuna in the background talking to a fan of hers. He hunts for Navi's contact.

You [ 4:44 ] On the line to see Mizi. Thanks again for the tickets. [IMG.7347]

He closes his phone, ignoring the flutter in his stomach to focus on the experience at hand. It's almost time to go in.

The queue moves forward,

"Chill, Till. You've watched these events like a thousand times on livestreams, it's going to be fine." Hyuna says, after they're already seated in the auditorium. He's glad his fan was seated far away from them, since he'd feel awful if she watched him losing his cool like this.

"Okay, but what if I trip and fall right in front of her? What then?" Till frets, combing one hand through his hair. Hyuna rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to tease him some more when the lights dim and a manager comes on-stage to announce Mizi.

Till immediately forgets his nerves, leaning forward to watch better. Mizi walks on-stage already waving, a radiant smile on her face. She's dressed more casually than she usually is for shows, with her glasses on. Her long pink hair is left free, bouncing as she moves to say hi to everyone on the first roll.

Till doesn't even see Hyuna settle down, focused on Mizi. She does a little QNA, pointing at people to answer. Most questions are pretty simple, like how's Mizi's doing, what's her favorite song from the newest album, favorite snack, and so on. She even calls on Hyuna, who asks if Mizi likes video games.

(Apparently, she's an Animal Crossing player. Till is so endeared, he loves her, oh god.)

After that fanfare, she sits on the stage, legs dangling closer to the first row, and sings My Clematis with her guitar. She thanks everyone, asks for five minutes to get some water, and the fansign begins.

Till has... a vague idea of the hour or so that happened between then and his turn. He knows Hyuna leans in to talk to him, mindless chatter about their streams and their next collab, about how Luka's workflow is increasing so she's thinking of paying for another chat mod.

In the blink of an eye, he's sliding on a chair in front of Mizi, and out of the hundred times he's imagined this meeting, he'd never have though of this.

She squints at him, tilting her head to the side, and says; "Oh, you're Till, right? The streamer?"

Till's face is so hot he thinks he's going to die.

[stellari-s]

heyoooo!, I don't know how to ask for a one shot so as not to seem rude... if you want, could you make an ithaqua x reader(survivor)?.

Survivor, she met Ithaqua when they were younger, because she almost froze to death in the storm in the snow and Ithaqua as a teenager helped her and took her to her mother to help her, after helping her for a few months the tragedy passed, Ithaqua sent the survivor away but she didn't Ithaqua knew that he was in love with him and Ithaqua never knew until,He arrives at the mansion with a letter saying at the end that he will find a person he left a long time ago, and at this point the survivor was still in love with him although a few years had passed, since Ithaqua sent her away to protect her from her deceased twin brother. Maybe Ithaqua will stop seeing her as a younger sister now as something different... I don't know how this is fluff or anguish...If you want you can do it? I'm sorry if I use the feminine a lot, I'm used to it but if you want to make it gender fluid, have a good day!

💌

hey, anon! no worries, it's not rude to request for a one-shot at all (｡･ω･｡) i tried to incorporate the things you mentioned to some extent but i hope i didn't misunderstand anything,, hope you enjoy nonetheless though!

request; yes, by anon! requests are open (with a bit of a queue), so feel free to send in your ideas 💕

wc; 1 113.

tags; gn! survivor! reader, pre-manor flashbacks, canon-typical vibes, ithaqua & reader sibling relationship, a bit of violence, some angst.

summary; the past is much like a dream in this cold and lonely place. by the time you can finally meet him again, it is under the circumstances you wanted the least.

everything feels like a dream.

yet, even now you can recall with striking vividness the feeling of the cold snow against your skin along with warmth from the company of others close to your heart.

nothing from that time was a dream.

yet, in this point in time when the coldness is a hodgepodge of pain and loneliness, everything feels like one.

the only proof you have despite your blurry memory is an amulet, left behind by your foster mother, who had raised you with a certain boy whose name you have forgotten.

gripping the amulet, you think back to the moment when your life was engulfed in a sea of orange flames.

screams made the flames waver back and forth, and seeing the woman who was allegedly deemed a “witch” by a cult led by someone whose face was identical to his, your breathing grew more uneven by the minute.

“this woman, a widow, is hereby a witch as declared by our god who bestows us with his wisdom,” he declared, a sick expression plastered on his face, “and thus here she shall now atone for her sins - may they burn to ashes.”

his words were like an order; with a flick of his wrist, a large group came in with torches and threw them inside. your foster mother was chained with nowhere to run.

meanwhile, your brother ran toward you. he stumbled a few steps, but then he crouched down before you, his hands lightly gripping your shoulders, perhaps in an attempt to comfort you amid the chaos.

“listen to me,” he said with a hushed voice, his wide blue eyes tinted with a slightly orange hue, “you have to get out of here, alright?”

“but what about you?”

“i’ll stay behind and save mother and get her out of this. but for now, you have to get out.” he almost sounded desperate at this point. “please, i can’t afford to lose you too.”

something tugged on your heart when you saw his expression and heard his voice, almost begging you to run away so he could at least be comforted by the idea that you were alive, somewhere he didn’t know.

but alive nonetheless.

tears started to stain your eyes and cheeks from the smoke and a mountain of emotions, but you found the strength, albeit barely, to stand up and run out of the house.

you took your amulet and ran, only daring to look back when the sea of fire looked like a faint warm glow.

the fire threatening to burn you is almost apparent, even now, sitting within this cold manor.

you look down at the amulet in your hands, gripping it tightly before loosening your hold, and then enveloping it in the warmth of your hands once again, desperate to keep the memories close to your heart.

right now, it’s your only way to cope.

you always dread that knock on your door with an invitation to another “game”. you know whoever is chasing you will don a distorted appearance meant to scare you. and the manor owner wants that. you have seen it all: a girl forcibly bound to a wheelchair carrying a chisel, a man with long sharp claws, spirits who reside within a cursed umbrella…

just who is going to be next?

that is the only thought running through your mind as you run through the dark woods. trees and bushes obstruct your vision, and eventually, you slip into a small body of water that looks unnaturally green, like some man-made light is illuminating from below.

you try getting out, but the water slows you down, enough that the hunter could find and catch you.

the encounter is brief - you can make out a mask, an axe, a lantern, but he is nimble and swings without hesitation. when your mind is yelling at you to dodge but your legs don’t move, you have to hit them before they finally fight against the water.

the axe lands beside you with a splash, and panting, you look up at that white mask.

for a moment, time seems to slow down.

everything in your surroundings seem to slow to a stop and lose its color as you look at the hunter before you.

your chest tightens; it’s as if someone had reached into your heart and slowly started stretching it from both sides. you are wide-eyed, unable to blink at this boy, who looked like a stranger out for blood yet so, so familiar.

that’s right… his name is-

the blade stops just short of your face. seeing it so close to you makes your heart hammer out of your chest - the hunter looking so tall with the stilts don’t help your nerves either.

“(y/n)?”

hearing your name once again coming from the person you miss the most, tears are beyond your control, your chest laden with pain.

yet, you didn’t want to meet him again here, not under these circumstances.

you wanted to meet him while viewing the first snow, or fall asleep together while mother sang a lullaby.

why did it have to be now, after mother was long gone? after happiness has long been broken?

you can’t bring yourself to stun him the entire match. you can only run away, avoiding that lantern’s flicker, until you find yourself back in your cold room.

lying on the bed, you look over with heavy eyes. to the side on a plain mahogany desk is the amulet.

next to that is a single vase, filled with pink carnations.

ithaqua, now alone in the room with no prying eyes, slowly takes off his mask.

beneath the mask is a perplexed expression, light blue eyes seeming to waver slightly.

he walks to the desk where a letter lays, the red flower-shaped seal ripped but the letter still folded neatly within. with nimble motions, he takes out the folded piece of paper and unfolds it, reading the invitation.

dear ithaqua,

i hope this letter finds you well. i’m writing on behalf of the owner of oletus manor to ask for your help with a rather large-scale experiment.

after some consideration, we have determined you to be a perfect fit for what we are looking for, so we would like to formally invite you to participate in a series of games for us.

of course, we will not ask you to do this for free. we will compensate you handsomely with any reward you wish for should you adequately complete what is asked of you.

if this offer strikes your fancy, we hope to see you at oletus manor, where a certain reunion may await you.

sincerely,

miss nightingale.

[thatssofiya]

A welcome to Tumblr for my newbie friends!

Tumblr is a site that may seem confusing and intimidating at first, but can quickly become one of your favorites 😎 Here are some basic tips as to how you, too, can become a tumblr girlie.

Add a picture and a description to your blog! This helps separate you from spam bots. Simple things like this are editable in "Blog settings".

There are three main feeds- "following", "for you", and "your tags." Following is the feed where you'll see content that everyone you follow makes or reblogs. For you is suggested content based on an algorithm. And your tags is when you specifically search up a topic on Tumblr and then follow it. Those latter two will be filled with content relevant to you from people you don't follow.

There's a big difference between liking (the heart) and reblogging (the double arrow) a post! Reblogging is usually regarded as the better option because it underlies the whole concept of Tumblr: sharing content to curate your blog and then sharing that content with your followers. This is what makes Tumblr a community and is what's especially important for creators (whether that be gif, art, fic, etc.)

When you post something (or reblog), you have the option of adding tags to the bottom! These can be used to help people find your post, organize your content, and simply be used for fun. A lot of people use the tag as a mix of organization and to let out their thoughts.

You can also add to a post when you reblog it! Your additions will be seen by the creator and your followers (and anyone who sees it if your followers reblog it). This is a nice way to add your thoughts if you want other people to see them!

When posting or reblogging, you have the options of posting now, adding to the queue (posts are released on a time-based schedule - this schedule can be altered under "Queue"), saving as a draft, posting privately, or scheduling for a specific time. This is really a personal preference - some people like to spam a lot of posts at once, some like to spread them out. Find what works best for you!

Last basic tip I want to share is that messaging can be done a few different ways, but the most common are: direct messages (the smiley conversation box) and asks (the envelope - sending one is like sending a letter, potentially anonymously, and can be answered either privately or publicly). Either option is a nice way to get to know people, in addition to adding tags or your thoughts on someone's post.

Most importantly have fun and be nice! And remember that Youtube is your friend! 💕

[rowan-post]

r p a d v e n t c a l e n d a r

Here's a prompt, challenge or encouragement for every day this December. I'm one day late because this is a busy time of year, so take all these with a grain of salt. You can queue some of them, and ignore others. They're designed to be done one each day, but you can pick and choose what suits you.

Write a winter holiday starter!

Find a winter themed meme and reblog it.

Muse headcanon prompt - what, if anything, do they celebrate? And how do they feel about it?

Change your blog theme to fit the season. If that feels overwhelming, just change your avatar picture.

Go through your mutuals and write up an ask that details everything you like about them, be it anonymously or not.

Write an open holiday starter that anyone can join and open the proverbial doors.

Make an effort to send out a few memes to your mutuals and followers, extra points if it’s holiday themed.

Muse headcanon prompt - what do they wear to the holiday office party?

Write holiday letters or postcards from the POV of your muse to another muse and post them on your blog. 

Write a starter where winter is the enemy - be it because of a violent blizzard or a terrible winter witch.

Muse headcanon prompt - if they went on a holiday vacation for the season, where would they go?

Clean up your muse bios and make them ready for the new year.

Find or make some winter themed moodboards and post them to your blog. 

Write a winter poem to the RPC and post it. Tag it with #RPCpoem, so we can all see them!

Take a break. We’re mid-december and things are getting stressful for a lot of us. Leave tumblr for a bit and carve out some time for IRL recovery today, even if it’s just 10 minutes by yourself in the bathroom.

Find a winter fairy tale and write a starter OR a headcanon based on that (from https://fairytalez.com/ for example). Doesn’t have to be fairy tale themed, just take some inspiration.

Make a pinterest board of your muse and their holiday celebration during winter. If they don’t celebrate, show us what they’re doing instead.

How would a winter holiday with your muse sound like? Make a playlist.

Search the open starter tag (or any RP tag you follow) and take the plunge. If there’s an open starter you like where the blog is open for newcomers, reply to it. If you find a blog you like, follow them. 

Send someone in the RPC a gift. For example: Write a little drabble, just one paragraph, of what your muse would give their muse. Or see if you can tip their blog, if you’ve got the finances to. Or just send them that picture or pin that made you think of them, even if you don’t dare to.

Muse headcanon prompt - this is usually a time for family, found or otherwise, which is either a good or a terrible time. How does it look for your muse and what is their relationship to their family like? 

Mistletoe time. Make a starter call for some winter kisses, see if anyone takes the bait. 

It’s time for another break! This time, try shutting down the internet and your computer a little earlier before bedtime. 

Muse headcanon prompt - if your muse could wish for just one thing this season, what would they wish for?

[fullscoreshenanigans]

What if uh...what if Michelle and Olivia? W little Ray

And AU with post canon Olivia and Michelle w Ray:(

Going to preface this with how amazing it is people will send me asks on topics I've had vague drafts of for ages but for whatever reason never published them.

(Evidence of my drafts and queue being fucking messes)

But yes, I'm still really attached to the idea of young sister candidates who still have siblings alive old enough to remember them being able to reunite with said siblings upon the farm system being dismantled, and one of the things that's most appealing about the Emma and Ray & Goldy Pond Resistance kids dynamics for me is them regaining that type of older sibling relationship after they had been the oldest siblings of their family for months if not two years since Susan was shipped out (this is also applicable to Norman with Vincent, Cislo, and Barbara post-imperial capital battle).

It's also a bit funny how CloverWorks provides a bit of foundation for this AU, saving Michelle from death because they wanted to save time and resources by reusing her model for one of the sisters that shows up in S2 episode 10.

Arguably one of the best changes they opted for, though they do nothing interesting with it. There's so much melancholic and healing potential upon a reunion with the younger siblings who still remember her and Olivia after spending years in a cutthroat environment that fostered division and systemic exploitation.

With Ray specifically, there's the belief he failed them by letting them walk off to their fate without lifting a finger to stop it or even just provide them with a warning, anything to give them an advantage and show he loved and cared about them, but in his pragmatic planning, he prioritized Emma and Norman over them, and that old regret and shame resurfaces.

And they're left with that dawning, muted realization of "ah, that explains why he'd get so sad every time a sibling left."

(Chapter 181.1)

Knowing he suffered in silence for so long and having been unable to provide him with a true sense of safety like an older sibling should, a new layer of sorrow tinging the memories of attempting to comfort him, sometimes with him maybe briefly lashing out due to something they said being unintentionally hurtful (e.g., "I'm sure they're happy with their new parents" because no they're not they're not they're not they're dead) but always ending with him curling in on himself and wanting to be left alone. Even during the few times it seemed like they were successful (though looking back, Susan and the collective efforts of Emma and Norman probably held the higher success rate), that ache is still present.

Again, lot of healing potential in that initial reunion hug between them and subsequent late night talks of mutual support where tales of their respective horrors slip out and worries over the search for Emma ebb and flow. (You could also go the route of him opening up about the full extent of his relationship with Isabella, though I'm firmly of the "there is no way in hell he is ever bringing that up until his 20s at the earliest unless prompted by an outside force" camp).

I would extend this out to all the older Grace Field kids from Ray through probably Nat though, if only because the first light novel already highlights Ray has a special attachment to Susan that it feels like he's taking up a disproportionate amount of spotlight without inherently offering a more unique spin on such a relationship, and we see Michelle and Olivia interacting with Emma and Norman a bit too, which is also precious.

(TPN Light Novel 1: A Letter from Norman - “The Ghost Incidents at Grace Field House;” the younger siblings listen to Olivia recount her sighting of a ghost with rapt attention.)

(S1 Ending 1 & Ending 2; some younger children sitting around Olivia as she reads them a story.)

(Chapter 12 Bonus Comic; Michelle and Olivia being won over by Emma and Ray to push for being able to see a sick Norman.)

(Minerva Confidential Report Key Animations for S1 Ending 1 & Ending 2; Michelle having a lively conversation with Emma and Norman as they walk through the first floor hallway of Grace Field. There's an argument that this isn't Norman because we can't see a hint of his shark fin cowlick, but unless this is when they're all walking to to push to see a sick Norman, I default to it being Norman since Ray is in the full shot so there's a complete trio babies snapshot.)

(Chapter 181.1; Michelle and Olivia trying to help ease the distress Emma and Norman are going through at seeing Ray cry.)

(Chapter 181.1; Michelle and Olivia with Norman wishing one of their young brothers well on his shipment day.)

(Chapter 17 | Chapter 32; Don and Ray fondly remembering Michelle and Olivia among their siblings who were shipped out, respectively, and interestingly both deeply internalizing how close the two were with each other by each remembering them in a side hug, though this might have just been for Demizu's drawing convenience.)

[lieutenantbiscute]

Shell Shocked AU head-canons/Ideas

• Danny was the smallest when he and his brothers were found. He couldn’t really maintain a proper body temp so Mona and Raph always kept him close and carried him a lot.

• Little Mikey often times tended to wander around the lair alone. Scared the shit out of Uncle Donnie when he found him in his lab one night.

• Leon is a VERY hyper active kid. Boy is bouncing off of walls type and yelling or talking loud when overly excited. Uncle Mikey suggested that he might have ADHD like himself and often times helps mediate and teach Leon to better maintain his excited outbursts. They still happen though and Raph and Mona just love seeing the kid jump around in excitement.

• Ralphie, despite his size, is the most closed off when it comes to talking personal emotions. He doesn’t look it, especially around family since he’s such a helpful kid and always thinking of others, but he keeps a lot of personal stuff to himself.

• All the boys called Chompy ‘chomp-chomp’ while growing up and they haven’t outgrown calling him that, even at 16 years!

• Chompy is the only pet/animal that Ralphie can seem to bond with. Chompy has been there since Ralphie could sit on his back, now the teen is big enough and strong enough to pick up the alien turtle on his own like a big happy dog.

• Little Mikey often times spends meditation sessions with Sensei, Uncle Leo. It all started one afternoon in the lair when the little man walked in on one of Leo’s sessions. Leo hadn’t noticed at the time, so imagine his shock when hours later he comes out of it to a sleeping box turtle next to him. Surrounded by crayons and messy drawings.

• Danny actually developed an early code for S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. When he was tinkering with his Uncle Donnie as the older turtle was fixing up MetalHead. He wanted a robot companion of his own so that ‘hatched’ into him writing early code!

• Despite how sweet Little Mikey is he takes after his dad Raph in attitude. He’s quick to temper sometimes if you press the wrong buttons. Absolute menace.

• Ralphie on the other hand doesn’t like his angry side. He often times keeps it bottled up, which from Raph’s perspective can only make things worse. Little Mikey has the outlet of art and meditation to help combat his sharp tongue. Ralphie hasn’t really developed any safe ourself yet.

• Leon was the one to actually get he and his brothers involved in watching Lou Jitsu films. They turn into comfort films once the teens get over. The whole lair with filled with the toddlers constantly using ‘Hot Soup!!’ As a comeback for everything.

• Leon, when not around his siblings, can be found often times hanging out with Uncle Mikey. He loves spending time around the older turtle when mom and dad are busy. He especially love when his uncle is playing video games.

• Ralphie holds his tail like Mona does. A snapping turtle really shouldn’t have their own tail posed in an upwards curl or curled in general, but once Mona noticed the use of his tail she offered to help her son train is to be a personal weapon.

• Danny was the one to first ‘meet’ a girl by the name of April. He was still young when he found the penpal letter that washed into the sewers one night and he decided to be the one to reply back! He thought it was his Auntie Aprils letter so he gave it to her when she came to visit the next day. O’Neil herself decided to send the letter back to its original sender unaware that Danny had written a reply!

• Little April wasn’t aware that the letter hadn’t been sent right so she when she read the reply letter she wrote back, queue a fun back and forth of Danny learning about the topside for a few years.

• Danny and Leon are both musical freaks. Queue any ABBA song and the two immediately start dancing, Michael as well.

• the boys formally meet April on Halloween, under the guise that they’re all wearing odd turtle costumes. April herself has been keeping tabs on odd mutant/Yokai sightings so she’s actually pretty stoked when the truth gets revealed later on!

[frescoisnotinthemilitary]

Soap music drabbles

Johnny listens to Travelin’ Soldier by The Chicks RELIGIOUSLY, and I mean RELIGIOUSLY. Whenever he’s listening to music, it’s in his queue like four times an hour. He likes the bagpipes. Reminds him of home, just a little bit. He thinks of his bonnie lass, his pretty little girl with a bow in her hair, waiting for him to return.

His girl, who comforts the piccolo player under the stands who lost her own soldier.

He sends his lass letters from base. Hopes to get one back before he’s sent out.

Johnny will do anything he can to make it home to his girl. He doesn’t want his name read to her by the officers at the door, holding his uniform and his tags.

He’s her travelin’ soldier. And he’ll do anything to make sure the soldier’s coming home.

[reidsaurora]

Part One: "In Doctors' Office Lighting" ~ S. Reid

Summary: After ten months of being away on cases, Spencer Reid is finally able to visit his mother. Upon arriving at the sanitarium, he meets the person who's been keeping her company while he's been away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Imogen Sterren (bipolar!OC)

Word Count: 2,536

Content Warning: takes place in a hospital, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: mostly Fluff i'd say

Extra Notes: as i said the first time i posted this series, this is my first time writing a character with bipolar disorder so if it is in any way inaccurate, please let me know so i can make it better! i am in no way trying to glorify or glamorize having bipolar disorder!

Based On the Song: Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift

Originally Written/Re-Written: 05/11/2022, 06/15/2022, and 11/03/2022

Beta Read By: @theghouligan and @reidsbookclub

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"Soon You'll Get Better" series masterlist can be found here!

"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰." - 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞

Spencer Reid gave himself one last glance over in the mirror, still deciding between leaving his cardigan buttoned or unbuttoned.

Huffing to himself lightly, he couldn’t help but think, "It's just Mom. There's no one to impress." He attempted to remind himself not to fret, still fidgeting with the fastenings of his favorite gray sweater.

He decided to leave the top two unbuttoned, showing off the white button-up shirt and pink tie—one his mom gifted him for Christmas—that lay underneath. He nervously exhaled one last time before exiting the bathroom and entering the main lobby of the Bennington Sanitarium for the fourth time that day.

"It’s just Mom, it’s just Mom," he kept reminding himself. Though, he had chickened out of finally greeting his mother three times already.

It wasn't that he was afraid of her disapproval of his company. If anything, he was afraid of the disappointment he'd feel when she inevitably brought up the fact that he hadn't visited in ten months. Since the day after Christmas, to be exact.

He stayed in the habit of sending her letters every single day, just like he had on the days leading up to Christmas. He'd even promised his mother in one of them that he was going to visit her in October, whenever he had some vacation time that was soon to expire.

He always loved visiting his mom during the fall. The trees vibrantly fading into orange, the perfect mixture of cold and warm weather, watching a Halloween movie in the entertainment room together. His favorite part was when he was allowed to accompany her for a stroll through the nearby park.

The park was next to the hospital and was opened specifically for the patients. Though nurses and guards were spread throughout the park for the patients' safety, for the most part, the park was there to provide a sense of normalcy for the Bennington residents.

Spencer always loved the days when he'd been granted permission to take his mother outside the hospital. He hated the way she looked in that dreaded doctors' office lighting: pale, sad, bored. It was like Diana Reid was a different person when she was basking in the rays of the October sun: her paranoia practically disappeared, color would suddenly flush back into her cheeks, and—Spencer's personal favorite part—she seemed hopeful.

As Spencer finally walked toward the help desk, he remembered why he was here: to see the hopeful version of his mother.

With every step he took toward his mother after consulting with the receptionist, he felt anticipation shoot through his body. Spencer had never been on a roller-coaster before, but he was sure his excitement was equal to, if not more than, waiting in the queue for the Tilt-A-Whirl.

However, that odd mix of anticipation and fear of disappointment quickly changed to apprehension when he noticed the woman sitting with his mother.

She was beautiful, even in that horrid hospital lighting. Spencer noted her perfect porcelain complexion, the perfect teal color of her eyes—in fact, upon Spencer's simple observation of the lady's presence, he thought everything was perfect about her.

The only thing that wasn't perfect about her was the fact that she was wearing the exact same Bennington pajamas as his mother.

He didn't care that she was a patient—in fact, he was glad this stranger was spending time with his mom when he couldn't. But, in Spencer's mind, there was a clear problem with finding his mother's fellow patient attractive.

He shook off his thoughts, reminding himself, "Mom. I'm here to see Mom."

After all, it wasn't like he could do anything about finding this stranger attractive. He lived in Washington D.C, while she lived in Las Vegas—2,423 miles away. Even in some form of this life where he'd have time to get to know her, it wasn't like he could just hop on a plane every weekend and come visit this woman and his mother.

He swallowed the last of his thoughts away and took the last few strides towards them. He took a moment to look the two of them over before saying anything. The pair were quietly chattering amongst themselves, each holding a copy of what appeared to be the same book.

Spencer wanted to comment on how beautiful the woman looked with her cappuccino-colored hair falling down over her face as she intently read the words on the page, but stopped himself for obvious reasons.

"Hi, Mom," he managed to get out once he'd finally walked around to face the couch they were sitting on.

"Spencer," Diana said, looking up from her book. "I forgot you were coming today."

Spencer gave her a small smile, unsure of what to say. He wanted to introduce himself to the lady beside Diana, but he knew the second he tried to speak to her, a big bowl of word salad was sure to fly out of his mouth.

"That tie looks nice on you," she told him. Spencer knew she'd said that as a way of conveying how much she loved the color pink.

"Thank you," he smiled. He took a moment to steal a quick glance at the girl beside Diana, though she was intently focused on the text in front of her.

"Imogen, this is Spencer," Diana took the opportunity to say.

"Oh, hi," the lady smiled up at Spencer, placing the bookmark in her book. Spencer noted her voice was quiet, meek. It was refreshing for him to hear a soft voice, unlike all those deep, business-type voices he heard at work every day.

"Hi," he grinned back, sitting down in the chair kitty-cornered to their sofa. "May I ask what the two of you were reading?" he inquired, nodding toward the copies of what he assumed was the same book in each of their laps.

"Pride and Prejudice," Diana was quick to answer.

"It's a bit modern for you, isn't it, Mom?" Spencer said with a joking inflection. His mom was a lover of all genres of literature, but nothing kept her quite as content as a book that predated the Early Modern Era.

"Well, it was Imogen's turn to pick the book of the month for our book club," she explained.

"We're on chapter 59, close to the end," Imogen said, still using the same soft tone from earlier.

Spencer swallowed nervously. He'd never had a pretty girl talk to him before, much less continue the conversation past greetings. He shook off his nerves, continuing on with the conversation. "Well, I promise I won't spoil the ending for you," he chuckled.

"You won't," Imogen giggled back, "I've already finished it three other times."

Quick to change the subject, seeing as he was afraid of awkward silence, Spencer asked, "Mom, would you like to go for a walk through the park today?"

"I'm supposed to be giving a lecture on Christine de Pizan later," she answered, seeming dead-set on her plans.

"Oh, well, don't about worry me, Miss Diana. I was the only one who signed up for that lecture anyway," Imogen mentioned.

Spencer wanted to ask her to join them for their walk. Even though he'd said a total of eleven words directly to her, he felt like he could talk to her all day if she'd let him.

"What am I doing? She's one of Mom's fellow patients," he scolded himself.

Just then, Imogen spoke up once more. "I have an idea. I could come for a walk with you guys," she suggested, "You could tell me all about Christine de Pizan then."

Spencer couldn't lie. He felt a wave of excitement come over his stomach when Imogen said this.

"Are you sure?" Spencer blurted out. "I can take my mom for a walk tomorrow if you guys want to wait. I understand how much Mom's lectures mean to her," he rambled. "Stop rambling, Spencer," he thought to himself.

"I'm sure. I'd actually really like to go for a walk," Imogen answered. "If that's OK with you, Diana."

Diana simply nodded in response, noticing how dead-set the two seemed on going for a walk together. She finally stood, giving Spencer a short hug.

Neither Diana nor Spencer were physical touch fanatics, but Diana always made it a point to give Spencer a hello and goodbye hug. Even in her state, she understood the importance of hugging Spencer one last time when he visited.

"Would you like to go now?" Spencer asked as she let go.

Again, she silently nodded, walking toward the front desk, ready for Spencer to sign her out of the hospital for the afternoon.

Soon enough, the three had made their way over to the park, basking in the sunlight of a Las Vegas afternoon.

"Isn't the sunlight nice, Mom?" Spencer asked, attempting to make small talk with Diana, who was currently enjoying the view of the trees from her wheelchair.

"I wish I got to see it more often," she commented. Spencer was unsure if he should've taken this as an insult for not visiting, but alas, he took it as an insult anyway.

Spencer didn't say anything in response. He just kept walking and admiring the sea of orange trees in front of them.

"Spencer, I need to use the bathroom," Diana blurted out as they continued down the trail.

Spencer internally chuckled at his mom's straightforwardness, but obliged, seeing as they were near the bathrooms.

Spencer passed his mom off to one of the nurses, continuing to walk beside Imogen.

"Do you get to come here often? Take walks with your family too?" he asked, attempting to make small talk.

"No, actually. I usually just come on supervised walks with Diana in the afternoons," she explained. "I'm not really sure if any of my family knows I'm here."

He looked at her with a puzzled look, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Voluntary," she confessed with an awkward smile.

"Oh," Spencer replied shyly, unsure what to say next. He found himself drawn to the question of why she'd been admitted, but he didn't want to seem insensitive, so he held his tongue.

"You know, Diana talks about you a lot," Imogen mentioned, changing the subject.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she giggled, "She says you're off saving the world, catching bad guys."

Spencer chuckled. "Well, it's not so much catching bad guys as it is catching up on paperwork," he joked.

"Is that all it is? Paperwork?"

"Oh, far from it," he laughed. "There's just a lot more paperwork involved than I thought there would be."

"You know, I always wanted to be an undercover spy when I was a kid," Imogen admitted.

"Huh. That's cool."

"Yeah. I always thought it would be cool to have an epic alias," she giggled. "Although, I guess having bipolar is kind of like having two aliases sometimes," she mentioned.

Spencer was quick to change the subject, seeing as he could tell she felt uncomfortable confessing that to a stranger. "So, how long have you been attending Mom's lectures?" he chuckled.

"About two months. She sort of took me under her wing when I got here," she explained.

Spencer smiled. He always knew how much his mother secretly wished she could've had a daughter, too. "Mom always has been an excellent teacher," he mentioned. "She always made me sit next to her in bed when she was going through a rough patch. She'd read through a novel a day on the days she was able to stay awake for a long time."

Spencer felt his cheeks turn red when he realized he was rambling again. "You didn't ask," he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"No, it's alright. I like having someone here who's my age. It keeps me young. Especially when you consider that your mom is my best friend," Imogen confessed, immediately feeling embarrassed herself. "You didn't ask either."

"Dr. Reid!" a nurse called from the bathroom area as she wheeled Diana down the walkway.

"Doctor," Imogen noted. "So, he's smart and he saves lives," she laughed.

Spencer could listen to her laugh all day if she'd let him. Her laugh was as sweet as honeysuckle, as comforting as your favorite childhood blanket, and as beautiful as a beachfront view.

He couldn't find any words to say, something he'd noticed himself doing a lot that day. Instead, he just sprinted over to his mother, ready to finish their afternoon walk.

A few hours passed by, hours filled with contemplations racing through Spencer's mind. He tried to focus on his mom, which he was somewhat successful in doing, but every so often, he thought back to how kind, how gentle his new friend was.

Once Diana and Spencer had finished dinner (which happened to be from Spencer and Diana's favorite restaurant that he happily obliged to drive across the city for), the two found themselves lounging around in the rec room, sleepily watching It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

"You know, you loved all the Charlie Brown movies as a kid, but this one was always your favorite," Diana smiled up at him.

Diana lay stretched across the couch, her feet propped up on Spencer's lap, while Spencer sat up straight with his legs propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

Spencer recalled a memory from his childhood, extremely similar to the current situation. She lay across the couch, nearly asleep, while he sat at the end, intently focused on his favorite childhood movie, Babar.

"I guess I've just always loved Halloween," he mentioned, a small smile playing on his lips. "You know, Imogen kind of reminds me of Sally, in a way."

He didn't know how he'd let that slip, and immediately regretted saying it. Was he really still thinking about her?

"Yes, I could see that," Diana replied back, keeping her attention on the movie in front of her.

"She seems loyal to her friends. Loyal to you too, Mom."

"Yes. She is one of the kindest friends I have here," Diana commented.

"You know, I wonder if she'd like this movie," Spencer said, not having taken his eyes away from the TV.

Diana sat up, scooting close to Spencer. She ran a hand through his hair, giving him a knowing smile.

Spencer knew what that face meant. "What?" he asked, attempting to play it off.

"Spencer, I know what's happening in that big brain of yours."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted.

"If you wanted Imogen to join us, all you had to do was ask," she said with a smile.

He panicked, stuttering some form of words that tried to imply this was all a misunderstanding.

"A mother knows, Spencer."

Spencer shook his head with an awkward laugh, in disbelief that he was acting this way. "No, Mom, it's not like that," he pressed.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, returning to her previous position.

Spencer grinned at the sight of his mom, who fell asleep almost immediately after lying back down. He continued to watch the movie, soon dozing off himself, dreaming of a day where he wouldn't have to see Diana, or Imogen, in that drab, doctors' office lighting.

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬." - 𝐒𝐮𝐳𝐲 𝐊𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦

GUYS!!! I can't believe it's out!!

I am so so so excited to share the rewrite of SYGB with y'all. I've been holding on to this idea of a rewrite for a little while and I am so excited that it's finally time to share it with you guys.

For those of you who read the original, I know it's not completely the same, since it was originally a Reader Insert, but I have a feeling you guys are gonna fall in love with Imogen over time. I love her so much and I hope you guys will as well.

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