#this is basically my lj at this point

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

actually it's really funny to me that now every time i think of throwing luke carder into a story my default luke for it is Some variation of a lucky jumbo luke

ofc part of this is jus bc . my beloved au . but also part of it (that i think ive talked about before) is that like,, luke lives in my head rent free in the Doomed Blorbo complex. i love that he is doomed! i love that his is a story over from the very beginning!

and because of that,, i dont really Want to alter anything that happened to him 'in game'. do i like thinking about his thought process during it? sure, i dig into his brain like a worm into a rotten apple. but at the end of the day everything still occurs. inscryption still gets deleted and he still gets shot. i dont want to change that, because it removes some of the inherent Doom of his character. but i do want to put Doomed Luke into Situations. so i need a luke who exists After inscryption despite being Killed by inscryption. enter the block people,

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Cuddling w/ Various Creepypastas 1/2

Notes: some characters have shorter sections but that's mostly due to me already writing cuddling hcs for said character! Reader is GN, this entire post can be read as either platonic or romantic! Save for the usual characters I dont write romantic for. Depending on the reception of this post I might do a part two with other characters.. do feel free to ask for anyone specific who wasn't in this post!

Characters: Slenderman, Splendorman, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Jeff the Killer

SLENDERMAN

Physical affection with slenderman is fairly rare. Sure, he gives you the mock kiss every now and then and might even snake a tendril around you to pull you close to him if you start straying in the woods... but to actually cuddle? Good luck with that! Though.. I feel it would be likely in a moment of much needed comfort- perhaps you're sick or you just point blank ask him to hold you.. hes cold, and you can feel bones but you dont care all that much. Hes stiff as a board, though. By default hes the big spoon, will likely never be the little spoon ever. Sometimes wraps his tentacles around you if you need to get even closer 4/10 because I love him but cuddling with him would be so so rare

SPLENDORMAN

Runs more on the warmer side! Loves being the big spoon, and of course hes very tall! Sometimes hums when you two lean into one another. Rocks you too as well, if you ask him to. Very touch starved so he attempts to seek you out every now and then.. not very soft though thanks to being very thin. He likes carrying you around! Hope you're not afraid of heights! 8/10

EYELESS JACK

I've mentioned a few times that hes very cold to the touch.. like ice cold. So unless you're into that, cuddling him might be a little.. hmm.. not that some blankets cant fix though! My headcanon is that hes on the shorter side, but kind of chubby buff. Soft! Switches between being little and big spoon. Hes not too keen in physical touch so you're going to have to wait for him to initiate.. I'm biased but I give him a solid 7/10

LAUGHING JACK

In contrast to the other Jack, Laughing Jack is actually pretty warm! It's like snuggling up into a heated blanket! His torso isnt very soft, but the puffs on his shoulders are nice and soft- as are his arms! And he purrs so that just makes it more relaxing! Switches between being big and little spoon, he doesnt seem to show much of a preference! Hes a total cuddle bug, if he could he would be snuggled up against you all day every day! 9/10, and hes very large! 8 feet tall is his default! Loves snaking his arms around you

MASKY

Adverse to touch, mostly in the beginning of your relationship (whether platonic or romantic, it doesnt matter), so its best to leave the initiation to him. Even then he rarely seeks you out. Unlike some of the other characters, outright asking him to cuddle you for comfort wont.. work.. the most you'll get is him rubbing circles into your back while he sits next to you. On the rare occasion that he does pull you against him, hes pretty warm. More so than Hoodie but not as hot as LJ. Firm grip but you can tell he doesn't know where to put his hands. Incredibly stiff against you, 5/10 hes doing his best :(

HOODIE

Tall and strong, and his hoodie is very soft when you convince him to let you wash it. If he takes his mask off his facial hair can get a little itchy, but it's rare that the mask is off. Loves being big spoon but sometimes craves being little spoon sometimes. Smells like... leaves and campfire smoke. Not bad, actually. Loves drumming his fingers on you 8/10

JEFF

Very lanky and tall, string bean build basically. Average body temperature. Does not like cuddling; probably sees most acts of physical affection as "yucky" regardless of if they're romantic or not. The closest you're going to get is the two of you huddling together for warmth or something within that ballpark. His skins a little rough, but that's too be expected. Very tense throughout the entire interaction, 2/10 he does not make a good cuddle buddy

[lyak12]

Food Poisoning

A/N: I've read a few days ago that our one and only Lucy Bronze played with food poisoning in the 2015 world cup quarter finals... I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and @helen-with-an-a and I have been talking this through for a good while, haha. I mean, Lucy is basically super human at this point, but I still had to rewrite it. It takes place at the semi-finals of the last World Cup and I'm really putting Sarina on the spot here and making her a bit of the bad guy... I just want to clarify that I don't have anything against her. I just needed a bad guy and she happened to be there. Also you're in for a long one, we're talking almost 7k... my longest one yet. I hope you like it though and thanks again for the help @helen-with-an-a 💕

w/c: almost 7k

Warnings: Throwing up, pain, a bit of Angst and arguments

It is the world cup and you won the quarter finals. Tomorrow is the big day. The semi finals. It's not your first world cup but you're still a bit anxious. You want to win this. You want this not only for the team but especially for Lucy. She finally deserves the world cup title.

Tomorrow however were the semifinals and they were at least just as important if not more than the final itself.

Lucy and you have been dating for a while and it's openly known in the team but that also means during tournaments you usually get diffrent roommates. Which neither of you mind since you're there to play football not to share a room. You're currently sharing a room with Leah and you love it. You two get along so well.

As you wake up that morning the nerves in your belly are already building. You're an early bird so you're getting up before Leah and take your time in the bathroom. You're also always the first to text your girlfriend good morning.

Today however instead if receiving a good morning back LJ, Lucy's roomie, texted you if you're awake already. You immediately text back, wondering why she's texting you this early but with the next message you understood why.

'I don't know what's wrong but Lucy is not feeling great. She didn't want me to text you but I think you'd want to know and come check on her' - LJ texts

'I'll be right there' - you immediately text back and grab your stuff before jogging over to their room. LJ lets you in and you ask "What's wrong?" However Lauren doesn't even have to answer as you hear Lucy throwing up in the bathroom. You quickly throw your things on the bed before making your way into the bathroom.

"Shh, it's okay. I got you, love", you say as you gather her hair that fell out of the bun and start to rub her back. She just retches again before she coughs and says "I told LJ not to text you." "Yeah well, I'm glad she did. Are you done?", you ask softly and she just nods. You help her up and guide her to the sink as you flush the toilet.

Looking at your girlfriend, you can tell she is still feeling like utter shit. "Shh deep breath, what's wrong Baby?", you say as you slip your hand under her shirt and rub her back slightly. She feels a bit sweaty but you put that off on the throwing up.

"I don't know, I'll be okay. I just need a second", Lucy says trying to convince herself she's fine. You hand her some water and she drinks a few sips before the both of you make your way back into her room.

"You okay, Bronzey?", Lauren asks softly and Lucy just nods but Lauren can see in your eyes that you're worried. Lucy quickly gets dressed before all three of you make your way to breakfast. You can see that your girlfriend is still nauseous and you honestly don't know what she wants at breakfast but if there's one thing, it's that Lucy has her own mind.

In the elevator you rub over her back slightly and she gives you a weak smile, trying to act like she's fine. Before you get in to the dining hall you pull her aside a bit and ask again "Baby, I can see you're not okay. Are you sure you want to get breakfast? We can go lay down again for a bit if you like." Your eyes betray how worried you are but Lucy just shakes her head and smiles softly before saying "I'm okay, we need the fuel for the game this afternoon."

You just sigh but know better than to fight with her right now. Maybe she'll feel better after breakfast. You have until lunch to rest and do some more recovery. Maybe Lucy will feel fine again in a few hours.

You can hope right? You sit with her at breakfast and your eyes are constantly on her as she slowly eats her food. You can tell it's getting harder for her to swallow with every bite. "Don't force it, Babe", you say softly as you rub her thigh but she just answers "I need the energy for later."

You just watch her worriedly and Leah and Keira, who are sitting at the table with you share a concerned look too. Lucy's free hand rests on her lap, holding her stomach as she forces herself to take another bite.

You can see Lucy starting to get really nauseous again as her chewing slows down. She's just desperately trying to swallow but you're scared she's about to blow again. Her breaths are deep but a bit to fast for your liking. However you're not saying anything as she tries her hardest to battle her stomach silently.

Before you know it she gets up and quickly makes her way to the bathroom with you right behind her. She barely makes it to the toilet before she throws up her breakfast and even a bit more. "Shh it's okay, Luce. I'm here", you say soothingly as she gathers her bearings, seeming to be done for now.

You grab some toilet paper and rub her mouth gently as she takes a few deep breaths. Getting up she walks to the sink before holding on to the the counter and grabbing her stomach slightly. You flush the toilet and walk up to her, resting a hand on her back gently before you carefully lay your hand on her belly. Stroking it gently with your thumb you feel her abs clench as her stomach cramps.

"Oh Babe, you're really not looking too hot", you say softly and press a kiss to her temple. "I'm okay", she just says and gets herself back together. "Luce, that was the second time you threw up. You're not okay", you say gently but she just looks at you seriously and says again with a bit more force "I'm okay."

You just sigh as she freshens up for a second and you both make your way back to breakfast. She sits back down and continues to eat as you just watch her concerned. "You okay, Bronzey?", Leah asks and Lucy just nods, the look in her eyes telling Leah to let it go. After breakfast you quickly talk to Leah and LJ that you'll spend time until lunch with Lucy, just to be there if something is wrong and they just nod. LJ telling you that she'll stay out of the room to give you two some privacy, eventhough that's not what you asked for.

As you knock on their door LJ opens it before grabbing her stuff and saying quietly to you "Make sure she's okay." You just nod and thank her before walking fully into the room. Lucy sitting on the bed with her iPad rewatching the last Australia game to prepare some more for the game this afternoon.

"Didn't you want to roll out your muscles?", Lucy asks confused as she sees you standing in the room. "I can do that while I keep an eye on you", you say, lifting up your blackroll. "Y/n/n, I'm fine", she tries but you immediately say "Lucy, save that for someone else. I can tell you're not. You're pale as a sheet of paper and I can tell you're in pain."

She just looks up at you as you pause the game and put her iPad aside, sitting down next to her. "Be honest with me", you say softly as you rest a hand on her back and one on her hand on her stomach, which she was still holding tightly.

She's silent for a few moments as she sorts her thoughts. She grimaces slightly as her stomach cramps and closes her eyes for a second, the fact that you saw that let's you know that's he's willing to let you in, at least a bit for now. You gently rub her hand with your thumb and ask "Why don't you lie down and rest a bit?"

She immediately shakes her head and says "I'll get sick again if I lay down." Your heart breaks at that. Its been a while since you've seen her physically so unwell. You slide a bit closer and say "Lean against me then." She does without much hesitation as you start rubbing her back. You can tell that she has been getting increasingly more nauseous since you first stepped into the room. "Shh deep breaths, you'll be okay", you say softly as you kiss her head.

She lasts about five minutes before she peels out of your arms and jogs to the bathroom once again. Finding yourself holding her hair back and rubbing her back again, you sigh softly. Why today?

"Oh love, what's wrong with your stomach? You think it's a bug?", you ask softly once she calms down a bit. She just shrugs as she rests her head on her arm, still unbelievably nauseous. Coughing a bit she gags again harshly. You get up and drench a cloth in cold water before coming back and resting it on her neck.

She slowly calms down a bit more and takes a few deep breaths. "Shh, good job, love, you're doing so good", you say softly as she leans back into you a bit. "This doesn't seem like a bug", she mumbles and you know what she means. You've seen her with a stomach bug, but she has never thrown up so much.

You grab the cloth and gently wipe her face as you say "Maybe it was something you ate?" She just shrugs as she tries to relax into you a bit. "Why today? How am I supposed to play my best like this?", she asks and you frown before you say "Babe, you're not playing like this." She turns around and looks at you as she says serious "I am playing, this is not up for debate."

You decide to not argue with her right now so you just sigh and ask "Are you done for now love?" She just nods and you help her up and to the sink where she freshens up.

She sits down on the bed and you hand her some water and electrolytes. That's one thing you never have to worry about, thankfully, she'll always drink, even if it comes right back up. She sips on the drinks as she grabs her iPad again and continues watching the game.

You can't help but sigh at that. You know how stubborn your girlfriend can be. You walk over to her and press a kiss to her head before deciding to roll out your muscles. There is no way for you to stop Lucy in watching that game. Might as well do your own recovery so you're ready for this afternoon.

"Will you please at least lean against the headboard, honey?", you ask as you move to the floor with your roll. She looks at you before complying hestiantly. "Thank you", you say and take off your hoodie, leaving you in a sports crop top because doing this in a normal shirt gave you the ick.

You focus on your own recovery and roll out your tense muscles while every once in a while looking at Lucy. And more than not you find her looking back at you. "I thought you wanted to watch the game?", you tease gently trying to not worry so much and keep the tone light. "Looking at the screen makes me dizzy", Lucy admits and you just frown.

"I really don't think you should play", you say as you keep rolling out your muscles and Lucy just warns "Y/N." "I'm just saying", you say again and focus on your recovery. Lucy turns off her iPad and keeps watching you as you do your recovery.

Every once in a while she sips on her drinks but you can tell she's feeling pretty crappy. Once you're done you, you get up and sit back down next to her. She just looks at you and you sigh softly before taking her in her your arms.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well", you mumble and kiss her head. You can feel that she's slightly warm. She doesn't say anything but you can tell she's about to throw up again. "You want me to get you a bucket or bathroom?", you ask softly but she just gets up and runs back to the bathroom.

Sighing again you get up and follow her once more. Lucy is coughing and gagging harshly again as she throws up the water and whatever is left from her breakfast. "Oh Baby", you say softly as she rests her head on her arm and catches her breath. It's this moment where the cramps are really settling in. She grabs her stomach and retches again before spitting into the toilet once more and flushing.

You rub her back and ask softly "Done?" She just nods and you help her freshen up and back in bed. "Are you sure you don't want to try to nap, love?", you ask gently but she just shakes her head as she curls up because of the cramps. You gently pull her into your arms and rest your hand on her belly. "May I?", you question and she nods hesitantly.

You had about half an hour before lunch, so you spend the time rubbing your girlfriend's belly, trying to make her feel a bit better somehow. Eventhough she relaxes a bit Lucy's cramps don't really get any better.

As it's lunch time Lucy is adamant to join you, and you just let her even if you want nothing more than have her lay down. LJ and Leah look at Lucy worried, she looks like crap but she still sits down and eats with them.

"Lucy, you really should lay down and try to get some rest. Playing is not a good idea", Leah says and Lucy just answers "Thats not for you to decide." Leah wants to argue but you just shake her head. Lucy is not in her right mind.

You don't have much time after lunch before you're meeting at the bus to drive to the arena, so you quickly escorting Lucy back to her room, followed by LJ. She barely makes it there before she throws up her lunch again. She's shaking slightly.

"Alright that's it. You're staying here", you say but Lucy answers with her head still over the toilet "I'm not. I'll not sit this one out."

"Are you serious?! Lucy, you can't keep anything down!",

"And?",

"And?! That's fucking insane to even think about playing? You're obviously in no condition to play!",

"I'm FINE", Lucy says but only throws up again.

"You're not fine, stop lying to yourself!", you yell and she just looks at you, before saying "I will play today, deal with it."

You just stare at her. "You know what? Fine. But I'm not gonna be there to scratch you off the floor when you collapse", you say and get up before you step out of the bathroom. You walk past Lauren and out of the room before making your way to your own room.

Everyone knows that's a lie. You'll take care of her but you'll still be mad.

"Is she coming? Did she get sick again?", Leah asks as you storm into the room. "Yes she is and of course she did", you say as you throw your hoodie on the bed and angrily pack the rest of your bag. "Hey. This is not your fault. That's just how Bronzey is", she says softly as she puts a hand on your shoulder. You look up with tears in your eyes and say "But that's just reckless. She couldn't keep anything down today, Leah. Nothing. She's in no state to play. Why can't she understand that?"

Leah sighs softly and says "I don't know but I know you did everything you could. Maybe Sarina doesn't let her play." You just sigh and sit down on your bed. Tears are still running down your cheeks as you mumble "I'm just scared something will happen to her." "I know, but she'll be okay. And if we're lucky she'll learn out of it?", Leah says and you just look at her with a raised eyebrow. You both laugh softly before Leah wraps her arms around you and pulls you in a hug. "She'll be okay Y/n/n", "I hope you're right", you mumble and calm down a bit.

You get dressed and ready before you head to the bus. Asking one of the medics for some of these emisis bags you sit down next to Lucy. Eventhough you freshend up and washed your face Lucy can still tell that you've cried and eventhough she's feverish she knows that it's her fault.

Talking to you isn't an option now though because you had your headphones on. Lucy knows you needed the drive to the stadium to sort your head so she just keeps quiet and looks out the window instead. Her stomach still cramping quiet badly but she tries not to show it. However, you can tell. Turning to her slightly you open your arms and let her lean on you before rubbing her belly softly. You still won't talk to her but you don't have the heart to let your girlfriend suffer.

You're about halfway there as you can tell Lucy is about to throw up again. You hand her the bag without a word and she throws up as quietly as she can to not disturb your teammates. As you finally reach the stadium you get up and move to the locker room. You all sit together in the locker room, changed, Lucy clearly miserable but she seems to be focused as your manager and the rest of the coaching staff comes in.

After looking around Sarina asks "Are up okay to play, Lucy?" Lucy just nods and you can't help but snort at that, shaking your head that Sarina would actually let Lucy play. "Something wrong Y/N?", she asks and you just shake your head again. You're part of the starting XI as well, you don't want to risk that spot because you argue with Sarina.

You all head out for warm up before you sit down on the bench to have some water. It's about time to line up. However before you can focus on that you hear Lucy starting to throw up again two spots down. You quickly walk over and rest a hand on her back, rubbing it softly as she throws up some water, clutching her stomach.

You look at her worried but once she's done you're more pissed than worried again so you just get up and head for the tunnel. Everyone can tell your pissed but lucky for them, you're an even better player when you're pissed.

The first half moves along greatly with you scoring at 36 minutes, getting your team in the lead. You're hot and playing well.

During half time break Lucy gets violently sick again on the bench. She's starting to become really feverish and you're really starting to be worried out of your mind. You can tell how bad the cramps are and that she can barely breathe deep without another cramp rocking through the brunettes stomach. "Lucy, this is getting ridiculous! You need to rest!", you say loudly. "I'm fine", she says weakly and you just huff angrily. "Can you continue Lucy?", Sarina asks and your girlfriend just nods. "You can't be serious?!", you ask Sarina angrily.

"Y/N, when Lucy says she can play. She can play", she says and you just look at her surprised before looking at the medics who just shrug. "You're seriously gonna let her play after she once again threw up everything in her? She's shaking and feverish! Do you know how reckless that is?", you ask in disbelief before you hear Lucy from behind you "Babe, calm down." "Oh don't you dare to tell me what to do. We will talk about that later", you snarls at your girlfriend, God you were angry. "You're some reckless people and I honestly don't know how you can even think about letting such a sick player play. Risking her health for what? Since when is winning more important than your players health", you spit at Sarina and the coaching staff.

You know you crossed a line probably but right now you don't give a shit. Leah having heard snippets of it, she walks over to you and pulls you away. "Come on, let's take a breather", she says and you look at her, wanting to yell at her too but her look makes you stop. You let her pull you away and she says "I know you're angry, but yelling at Sarina will only end in her pulling you of the field." You try to calm down but you can't stop the tears in your eyes once again. "I know, but have you seen Lucy? How can they let her play like that?", you ask as you try to swallow your worry. Leah stops moving and takes you in her arms again, holding you close to let you calm down. "I don't know, she'll be okay. You can't do anything for now. Get your head back in the game okay?", Leah says softly and you nod as you take a deep breath.

You get your head back in the game and try your best to not focus on Lucy as the second half starts. In the 59th minute you play another cross which almost ends in a perfect goal from LJ. Almost.

However in the 63th minute Sam Kerr breaks through and you break out in a sprint to catch her. Which you do, however, as she fakes to the right you slip on the artificial turf and fall to the ground. You still manage to kick the ball away slightly but not hard enough. Sam saves the ball and scores, making you even. You just sit on the ground with your head in your hands as you catch your breath. A few of your teammates come over, including Lucy, and help you up, telling you it's not your fault and especially Lucy asking "Are you okay?" You just nod, it had been a bit painful but nothing you can't push through.

Not even two minutes later you get subbed off. You look confused, you've been playing really well. You look at the sideline and see Sarina shaking her head. You walk off, let Alessia come in for you, walking to the bench without looking at Sarina. Did she really pull you off because of one mistake that you couldn't even stop?

You throw yourself in the seat and sip at your water, angry tears burning in your eyes. "Hey, its not your fault", Georgia tells you but you can't really trust that right now. Sarina obviously thinks it is.

You watch the game continue, pissed off. However as Lucy goes down after a tackle you jump up, looking at her worried. She sits up again so you know she didn't pass out but the game continues, also with another goal for you. Everyone on the bench is cheering except you. As Lucy slowly slides of the pitch and the medic makes her way to her you break out in a full run and run to your girlfriend. You can hear Sarina yell your name and tell you to stay but you don't give a shit.

You're there after the medic who is already looking at her knee. "Are you okay, Luce?", you ask worried as you squat down behind her with your hands on her shoulders. She pulls her legs up slightly as another round of cramps wreck havoc in her body. She just shakes her head. "Everything hurts, I can't even breath without my whole body cramping up", she mumbles as the medic gives her some electrolytes. Once she drank something it almost comes right back up. "Yeah you're done, love", you say and the medic nods. Lucy is pissed but knows you're right. That's when the ref stops the game and walks over to the three of you.

"You can't be here", she says to you and you just look at her confused. "I'm off the pitch, what's the problem?", you ask pissed. "Players can't be next to the goal, it doesn't matter if you're playing or not", "I'm checking on my teammate!", you yell at her. She picked the wrong moment to mess with you. Lucy is just staring at the ground trying to keep ber bearings.

"Don't talk to me like that!", the ref says strictly and you just snort before saying "You make a big deal out of nothing. You stop the game with no reason. Go do your job and let me take care of my teammate!"

You crossed a line and you know that.

She blows the whistle and pulls out a yellow card, giving it to you. "Are you serious? What's your fucking problem?", you start to argue again but the ref isn't having it. Before she could do anything else Leah runs between you two and tells you "Y/N get it together! You'll get carded again and miss the final! I know you're upset but shut your mouth!" By the time she finishes talking, Lucy is on her feet again, stumbling but on her feet. You turn away from the ref and rest a hand on Lucy's back as you guide her to the bench. Lucy gets subbed and you sit down on the bench as she almost immediately starts puking again. "Shh you're okay love", you say soothingly as you rub her back. The medic hands you a cold towel and you rest it on her neck, calming her down. "Y/N what the heck was that?!", Sarina says stomping towards you. You just roll your eyes and keep your attention on Lucy. "Don't ignore me!", she yells and you just look up and say clearly, "I'm not gonna apologize."

You can tell she's about to send you in the locker room but then your teammates score another goal. Your focus still stays on Lucy, it's great your in the lead with two but right now you're worried about your girlfriend. She's trembling and tensing every few moments because of the cramps, the heat here not helping. "Shh you'll be alright, my love", you say gently and press a kiss to her warm temple. As she rests her head in her hands you squat in front of her and hold the cold towel to each side of her face, hoping to lower her fever a bit. The final whistle is blown and you press a kiss to her forehead. "We won, Luce. We're in the final", you whisper and the brunette smiles softly.

"I really don't feel good", she mumbles and your heart breaks at that. "I know, let's get you in the locker room", you say gently before looking at the medic and he just nods for you to take her.

You help her up and steady her as she sways. "We gotta get your fever down", you say and she just nods but you can tell she's pretty out of it. You help her undress and guide her in the shower, only taking off your shoes, shorts and shirt. Getting in with her to make sure she doesn't fall. You stay in for almost 20 minutes but by then her fever dropped at least a little. You are pretty cold but you can care less right now.

Your teammates are mostly in the locker room already as you guide Lucy back to her bench and help her get dressed. "Baby, you're cold", she says but you just ignore her. "She's right, we don't want you getting sick before the final", Leah says, laying your towel around your shoulders. You smile softly at her, thanking her.

Once Lucy is dressed, you quickly change yourself. You will shower at the hotel again. You just pull your shirt down as Sarina knocks at the door. Leah tells her that she can come in and by the look on her face you know she's not done with you.

"What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?!", she yells at you. Leah wants to intervene but you're too quick to answer "What was I thinking?" "You got a yellow because you couldn't keep your mouth shut eventhough you weren't even playing!", she yells at you. "Well I wouldn't have if you wouldn't have been so reckless! What on earth made you think it's okay to let Lucy play?", you ask back loudly. You'd not back down and even Leah knows that intervening now will not end well.

"Lucy said she's fine to play!", she yell and you just laugh angrily. "Everyone knows that she doesn't know when to stop. For fucks sake she couldn't keep anything down all day. Any person that can think logically knew that this was a disaster waiting to happen!", you yell and she just looks angrily at you. "Y/N", Lucy tries, not completely out if it anymore but you just turn to her and say "You better be quiet, Bronze. I'm not done with you either." The fact that you last namened her lets her know she's in trouble so she just shuts her mouth.

"I'm not letting you chew me out because I got a yellow. The ref has been waiting to do that all game and we all know that. You subbed me off because I opened my mouth at halftime. I couldn't have prevented that goal and even if I still feel guilty for it, you of all people should know that it was not my fault!", you yell angrily, you're fuming. "You got a yellow, you're lucky you're not suspended for the final!", she yells back.

"Yeah well if you would've acted with the health of your players as top priority, non of this would've happened!", you spit. "Careful or you'll find yourself on the bench for the final!", she threatens and that when Leah knows she has to step in as captain. "Okay that's enough. Let's go all back to the hotel and calm down before we make any hasty decisions", Leah tells and Sarina just glares at you once more before she leaves the locker room.

"Y/N", Lucy tries again but you just warn, "Don't." "I think it's better if you're quiet, Bronzey", Leah says quietly but you can see her trying to hide a smirk. It's rare to see Lucy Bronze not having a cheeky remark. Leaving the seriousness aside, it is kinda funny so you get Leah.

You head to the bus and sit down next to Lucy again. Now that you're calming down, you're starting to feel your knee a bit from that slip but you'll be fine. You're still pretty pissed so you grab your headphones and put them on, closing your eyes as you lean your head back. You can feel Lucy shifting next to you and not settling in the slightest, so you open your eyes and look at the brunette. You can tell she's feeling sick but the cramps seem to be worse than ever. You sigh softly and turn slightly, before you say "Come here." She looks at you unsure and you say again "I may be really mad at you but I still love you. You have 5 seconds to decide if you want my comfort or not."

It doesn't even take one for her to cuddle into you. Most people wouldn't think that but Lucy is a snuggler. Especially when she's not feeling well. You pull her close and hand her one of the bags you have left, just in case before you gently rub over her belly, trying to soothe those angry muscles.

You end up stuck in traffic and thanks to your soft touch Lucy dozes off a bit. Your eyes are closed again and the music kept the other voices from disturbing your peace. "I thought Y/N is mad at Lucy?", a fairly new teammate asks. She's not been on the team for long enough to fully get Lucy's and your relationship. "Oh she is, she's pissed out of her mind", Keira chuckles softly. "But they're cuddling?!", she asked even more confused. "You must know, Y/n/n is that kind of person where she can be unbelievably mad at you, but she'll still make sure you're okay. No matter what. Lucy can mess up badly like right now but Y/N will take care of her until she feels better because she loves her. She would never in a million years let Lucy suffer on her own or not be there for her just because she's mad. They have a special kind of love", Leah explained as a few of your teammates smile at you guys softly.

You feel that you're being stared at, so you open your eyes to find several teammates quickly look away, but not Leah, Keira and LJ. You see their smile and look down to see Lucy asleep on you. You can't help the smile you crack. Your girlfriend is pretty adorable but you'd never let her see that smile right now. You press a soft kiss to her head and lean back again. Eventually, you make it to the hotel and make your way inside. LJ and you switching rooms for the night, so you can make sure Lucy is okay.

You let Leah know that neither of you will attend dinner tonight before you bring Lucy in the room. "Come on, change and then bed", you say and Lucy wants to argue but your look makes her close her mouth again before following your orders. Lucy is about to lie down as Lauren bring you your bag, before grabbing hers and making her way back to Leah. You start boiling some water in the kettle in the room before fishing the hot water bottle out of your bag. Heat often helps your muscles and Lucy too even if she doesn't want to admit it, so you usually bring it. Once you are done prepping it, you sit down at the edge of the bed, lift the blanket and place it on Lucy's stomach. She sighs softly in relief before she looks up at you with teary eyes.

You know that she hates it when you're mad at her. You sigh softly and caress her cheek, before you say "Don't cry, Luce. Everything will be okay." "Do you still love me? I'm sorry", she asks insecure and it breaks your heart. That's definitely mostly the exhaustion talking. "I will always love you. Even when I'm mad, love. Now do me a favor and get some sleep okay? I'll join you after a quick shower", you say as you kiss her forehead lovingly. She doesn't have to be told twice. Not even a minute later she's already dozing off.

You smile and shower quickly, before joining her in bed. You cuddle your sleeping girlfriend for about an hour until there is a soft knock at the door. It opens a second later and you see Leah waking in with a tray. There is some dinner on it for you and some crackers and fresh ginger for tea for Lucy. "I figured you'd be hungry. How's our Bronzey?", she asks softly to not wake Lucy.

"Thank you. She's okay, I think. I'm glad she's sleeping. She's exhausted", you say as you look concerned at your girlfriend. Leah walks up to you and squeezes your shoulder before she says "She looks a bit better already. She'll be okay. Now eat something yourself please okay?" You sigh and nod before you thank her. Leah leaves again and you eat your dinner. You're just done eating as Lucy stirs. You gently push a piece of hair out of her face and ask "How are you feeling, love?" "A bit better", she mumbles and leans into your touch.

You press a kiss to her forehead and ask "Do you think you could keep down some tea?" "I can try", she says with a small smile, so you get up and finish some tea with the fresh ginger.

Once it's done, she sits up and you hand her the mug before sitting down across from her. You can tell the fever is gone and she seems a lot clearer than earlier.

"How mad at me are you?", she asks softly as she looks up at you. "Pretty mad", you say before you sigh. "Lucy, you cannot be so irresponsible. This could've ended badly and you know that", "I know, I'm sorry", she says quietly. You know own she means it but that just isn't enough. "I know you are but you're sorry because I'm mad now. Lucy I need you to understand that I'm not mad because you acted against my wish. I was fucking worried about you. You could've gotten seriously hurt. I need you to be okay and I don't know how often I can go through such a day like today", you say seriously, close to tears. She knows your biggest fear is losing her.

She quickly puts aside the mug and opens takes your hands in hers. "Hey y/n/n, look at me and listen please. I know I messed up. I know I worried you and scared you. And I'm sorry for that. I can only imagine how anxious you must've been all day and I never wanted to be the reason you're feeling like that. We both know I have a problem to know my limits and I know I should've listened to you. I'm truly sorry and I need you to believe me. I try to listen to you next time", she says as she looks into your eyes and you just nod before she takes you in her arms, letting you calm down and let those tears and anxiety out.

"I'm still mad at you", you mumble in her shoulder. "I know, I deserve that", she chuckles softly and kisses your forehead. After a few minutes in her arms, you sut up and say "Now drink that tea." "Yes ma'am", Lucy just say causing you to roll your eyes smiling.

Grabbing the hot water bottle from her stomach she pouts dramatically and you just laugh before you tell her "Relax, I'm gonna make a fresh one for you."

Getting up you limp a step before putting the water back in the kettle and turn it on, shaking your leg out slightly. You're definitely feeling your knee and Lucy can tell immediately. "Let me look at your knee", she says but you answer "Lucy I want you to rest and drink your tea." "Yeah, well I don't want my girlfriend to be in pain either when she takes care of me", Lucy tells you seriously. She'll not back down, you know that.

You sigh, finish up the hot water bottle and make your way back to bed. Laying the hot water bottle next to her she gets up and tell you to sit down so she can check on your knee. If there is one person to know everything about knees it's Lucy. She can tell how tense the muscles are, probably overstretched a bit. She massages them a bit, which is pretty uncomfortable but ultimately helps.

"Make sure one of the physios takes a look at that tomorrow and gets you taped up", she says softly and you nod, before you thank her. "Not for that", she says and presses a kiss to your knee before getting back in bed. You cuddle up next to her and place the hot water bottle back on her stomach.

Both of you head to sleep pretty early but she does finish her tea and even eats a few crackers without throwing up again. The next morning, you wake up in her arms. You turn off the alarm and she opens her eyes to look sleepily at you. "Morning, I missed this", she mumbles before kissing your head. "Me too", you say smiling before gently rubbing over her stomach. "How's your tummy?", you ask and she answers "Sore but definitely not as queasy anymore."

You just smile satisfied and cuddle for a few more minutes before you get ready for breakfast.

Once down in the dining area you kiss her cheek and say "Sit down already, I'm gonna get us something to eat." She nods and sits down next to Leah. You come back a few minutes later with two plates only to find Lucy and Leah looking at Leah's phone watching the game from yesterday. More precisely the scene where you got a yellow.

"Why are you watching that?", you whine slightly as you place a plate of toast, some cucumber and some watermelon. "I don't remember much of the game yesterday, I wanna know why you got carded", Lucy says grinning and you just roll your eyes. "The ref has been waiting all game for that", you grumble and Leah just chuckles before she says "And thanks to her you're also on bad terms with Sarina." You just sigh and rub over your face, all of that making your head hurt slightly.

Lucy rests a hand on your thigh and makes you look at her. "Thank you for standing up for me", she says softly. "You're welcome, but you better don't do it again, Bronze", you say with a raised eyebrow. She winced slightly at being last named again. "Understood", she says before pressing a kiss to your temple

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Grays

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Grays Part II }

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, no physical descriptions other than that Reader has hair that can be dyed, not-quite-friends to *respectfully looking* dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendos, lots of teasing and banter.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: The origin story is here if you missed it. This is dedicated to my Frankie soul sister LJ @prolix-yuy who encouraged me to write this many months ago ❤️ As always, I’m an anxious mess writing for a new-to-me Pedro boy, so please be gentle with me (cos it's my birthday week) 🥺

I have a part 2 (with smut) in mind. I love where this leaves off, but who am I kidding. I probably won’t be able to help myself 😂

The bell on the door chimes with a sweet tinkle, cutting through the low, insistent purr of the hair clipper buzzing in your grasp. You don’t look up as you spy broad shoulders and a battered Standard Heating Oil cap crossing the threshold out of the corner of your eye.

‘Are you lost, Morales?’ you drawl indifferently, focused on the task at hand. ‘I have an appointment with Pope today, not you.’

‘He booked it under his name. Thought you’d take it as a prank if I called in myself.’

You look up to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror sitting in front of Greg, your current customer. ‘I wonder why he’d think that.’

Frankie shrugs, leaning against the reception counter with his arms crossed. ‘Beats me.’

You snort. ‘Really? You’ve insisted loudly and repeatedly for as long as I’ve known you that you don’t see the point of going to a hairstylist when you can have Pope cut your hair with kitchen scissors in his bathtub.’

‘C’mon, Shiv.’

‘Oh, he knows my name,’ you gasp sarcastically. You turn to Greg, who’s clearly amused by this exchange, and loop him in. ‘He usually just grunts at me.’

At this point, Ashton - your apprentice and all-round salon maverick - makes an appearance. Clearly having caught the tail-end of your conversation with Frankie, he glances between the two of you with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are we back to chasing customers away, boss?’

‘Sit his ass down but he doesn’t get a free drink,’ you instruct. ‘I’ll get to him when I get to him.’

Ashton goes ahead and ignores your orders point blank, per usual. After hanging up Frankie’s jacket and settling him at the station furthest away from you in the far corner of the salon, you see him sneakily give him a coffee. He can never resist the handsome ones.

You take your sweet time with Greg, cleaning up his sideburns, even though you’re basically done with him - just to tick off your waiting customer.

Not that it works, and you know it won’t. He just sits there, his wide frame filling up the chair, still as a rock. The dog-eared, months-old magazines strategically placed on the table for idle reading lie untouched. That’s Francisco Morales for you.

You’ve been orbiting each other since sixth grade, as all kids in your close-knit neighbourhood do. In fact, most of your customers went to your school. 

You don’t even remember how it started - probably at a sleepover - you discovered one day that you’re handy with box hair dye. By freshman year, you were colouring your fellow classmates’ hair in the girls’ toilets after school, earning enough pocket money to keep your cabinet at home fully-stocked with new hair products on rotation.

Your ever-changing hair colour got you into trouble with the headmaster more times than you can count, who nicknamed you Shape Shifter. Your friends abbreviated it to Shifter, then over the years, whittled it down to Shiv, and it stuck.

After being gifted a set of styling scissors for Christmas one year, you started hanging out at the neighbourhood salon, hustling for an apprenticeship. You practised what you observed on your fellow students, giving out haircuts on the bleachers on non-game days for a couple of dollars (the fee waived if something went disastrously wrong).

That’s how you first met Benny - his then cheerleader girlfriend took him in for a haircut when it got too long for her liking. When you eventually opened your own salon years later, he was your first paying customer, having come home after being honourably discharged from the army.

During the early days, when you struggled to fill your appointments and he couldn’t win a fight to save his life, you made a pact. You would do his hair at a heavy discount for his posters and promotions, and in return, he would let you use his photos for the salon’s marketing.

And it worked. Well, not that you had anything to do with him turning his fortunes around on the MMA circuit, but he had everything to do with getting customers through your door. It only got busier when Santi joined the ranks a couple of years later, and even though Will only shows up when his hair gets really unruly, they both sit in front of your camera with no complaint in return for mate’s rates.

Having these guys on your salon’s social media keeps both the gents and the ladies booking up your appointments.

Frankie Morales, though, is a different animal.

When you finally appear over his left shoulder, his coffee is all gone and he meets your eyes in the mirror nonchalantly. He’s leaning his whole weight on his right elbow on the armest, his left arm outstretched and blunt nails tapping on the table, the only hint of impatience he’s giving away.

He’s good at that - he’s the laid-back one out of the boys, the one who hangs back and observes with arms crossed, but quick to crack a grin and throw in a wicked barb when the occasion calls for it. Nothing ever seems to faze him, and probably nothing does - you hear that makes a good pilot, and from what Pope lets on, he’s a damn good one.

It also makes for highly effective bait for the ladies. He’s a popular fixture on the local bar scene - let’s face it, all of the boys are. You’ve seen him in action more than once when Benny or Pope invites you along on a night out, more often than not without Will since he had a baby girl with his high school sweetheart last year. Frankie’s brooding, quiet, beer-sipping act often works better than Benny’s over-the-top flirting or Pope’s Casanova bit.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hands on your hips, you goad him, ‘Alright Morales, how do I know you’ll pay up, you cheap bastard?’

‘Pope says to put it on his tab.’

‘Music to my ears.’ You tap him on the shoulder. ‘Sit up and off with the cap.’

With a grumble, Frankie lifts the cap up by the beak, ducking his head as he does so. He tosses it onto the table offhandedly and shifts in his seat, but you’re not fooled by his unconvincing air of indifference. From the way he plasters his palms to the top of his denim-clad thighs, as if to stop them from fidgeting, you know he’s feeling vulnerable. 

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Frankie without his headgear - now that you think about it, he’s been wearing it since high school. Heck, he might have gone through several incarnations of that blasted hat in the years in between. You’ve caught glimpses when he lifts it up to fix his hair, but otherwise, all you see is what peeks out from underneath, the longer wisps that coil around his ears and the curls at the back. 

As it turns out, there’s really nothing to hide - sure, the cut is blunt and his hair lacks shine, but both can be easily fixed. You step into his space and comb through his locks, starting at the base of his skull and working your way up the sides. 

The contact startles him - he practically jumps out of his skin, and you don’t miss the way the veins on the back of his hands pop and he digs his nails into his legs.

'Easy, boy,' you soothe with a teasing undertone, earning yourself a glower from the pilot. As much as you enjoy needling him, you do want your customers to be comfortable. So you let slip a deliberate but genuinely appreciative hum as the dark tendrils, subtly tinged with grays, part softly at your prying fingertips. ‘Wow, your curls are really thick.'

He looks up, an unsure frown on his brow. ‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘No, Morales, it’s definitely a compliment,’ you tell him encouragingly - your bark has always been worse than your bite. ‘What do you use to wash your hair? It’s a bit dry.’

He shrugs. ‘Shampoo.’ At your insistent stare, he snaps, ‘What?’

‘Don’t lie to me, Morales,’ you warn him in a stern voice.

He huffs and gives in. ‘Fine. It’s a 2-in-1 body wash. I get it at the gas station, happy?’

You shoot him a smug grin as he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, you’re using proper shampoo from now on, and conditioner.’ He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, when you hold a finger up at him. ‘Don’t argue with me, mister. I’ll throw in a couple of bottles on the house to get you started.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. Unfailingly polite even when grumpy, he adds, ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Your trusty swivelling stool screeches in protest when you drag it over on its wheels, before you take a seat and address the elephant in the room. ‘So - I’m guessing you’re here because of the wedding.’

You get a grunt in response. Scratching a particularly scrappy patch of his beard that has turned prematurely silver, he says, ‘My ma says I should cover up my old man grays for it.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘Ha! And you tell your mother I say - hell no, ma’am! I will do no such thing.’

Frankie blinks at your unexpectedly adamant response. ‘What?’

‘I said, hell no,’ you repeat. Turning his head to the side with two fingers on his stubbled cheek, you comb his locks upwards to study the way the grays blend in softly with the umber, matching the ashen flecks in his beard. He doesn't start as badly at your touch this time, but there’s a telltale tick in his jaw, and you can almost hear the tension that thrums just below his skin where a late summer tan still lingers.

‘See how your grays are mainly coming out on the underside?’ you point out. ‘I like the way they just peek through the brown, it gives more depth to your curls. Natural highlights, if you will.’

He looks unconvinced and swipes at a smattering of silver with dismissive fingers. ‘Dunno. Thought the grays make me look old.’

You chuckle. ‘You’re no spring chicken anymore, Morales, and I mean it in a good way. Grays are natural - they will look even better when you start using actual shampoo and conditioner. Trust me, the salt and pepper works on you. I’m not dyeing your grays, and that’s that.’

For the first time today, Frankie turns his head and looks directly into your eyes. ‘My mother’s coming back to town for the wedding, you know. And she remembers where you live.’

You laugh. ‘Go ahead and send her my way, you know I’m not scared of her.’

He scoffs at your big talk. ‘You should be.’

Your relationship with the Morales matriarch is complicated, to say the least. She was always hard on you when you were a kid, thinking you were too wild and undisciplined. Now that you’re grown, you’re still torn between your admiration for her as a single mother who raised a good man, and the woman who never tires of dishing out criticism, warranted or not.

You give him a reassuring pat on the back, solid and warm under your touch. ‘Leave your mother to me, Morales. The grays stay, and I’ll make sure you steal the show at the party.’

‘Your funeral,’ he quips.

‘You just worry about getting yourself to the wedding,’ you retort, cracking your knuckles. ‘Now, are you ready for some pampering?’

Frankie rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth tick up in a vaguely upward direction - and you take it as a win.

‘Relax, Morales.’

‘I am relaxed,’ he insists through gritted teeth.

‘You’re about as relaxed as a cow on the butcher’s block. Unclench.’

For someone as economical with words as he is, his body certainly says a lot. Every single part of him seems hellbent on making his discomfort known. He breathes a frustrated exhale through his nose, brow deeply furrowed, his glare burning holes into the ceiling.

The leather seat of the backwash barely contains his tall build, his t-shirt stretched to the seams across his chest as he leans back into the basin. He’s bouncing his left leg irritably, the tight denim straining against his lap.

You try - valiantly - not to gape too obviously at the conspicuous bulge nestled snugly between his thighs under his belt buckle. But you can’t avert your eyes from something of that size. It’s against the laws of physics. Or something.

Even from where you’re standing, at the top of the basin peering down the slope of his body, its heft is clearly testing the structural integrity of the zipper of his jeans. Imagine the view from the other side -

Clearing your throat, you bodily press down on Frankie’s shoulders which are coiled up like the hood of an angry python, forcing them to loosen up. He jerks as if he’s a copper wire and you’re electricity. You tease, ‘So sensitive. You act like you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before, Morales.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ he growls at you, the prominent vein in his neck starting to pulse in frustration.

‘No, you’re right - I do know,’ you smirk, dragging out your syllables.

Your tone has him frowning at you, upside down. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean - I know,’ you repeat with a conspiratorial wink.

He narrows his eyes at you. ‘What do you know, Shiv?’

You wriggle his eyebrows at him suggestively, enjoying yourself far too much. ‘I own a salon, Morales. I hear things from the ladies about town.’

One large palm reaches up to shield his face in embarrassment, a pained groan escaping between the gaps of his fingers. ‘For fuck’s sake - kill me now.’

You laugh, wrestling his hand from his face to with an impish grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things so far - Frankie big boy Morales.’

He blushes so hard that his ears and neck go a livid red, and for a minute, you’re actually worried that he’d pass out from not enough blood reaching his heart. Not keen on the prospect of having to explain to the emergency services that you teased the poor man into an aneurysm, you turn on the water and cut short your little chinwag with a good-natured chuckle. 

His hands are still tightly clamped around the armrest when you carefully run the shower head along his hairline and behind his ears, soaking his curls. His biceps flex from the tight grip and the lean muscles strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

At least he closes his eyes when you start with the shampoo. The velvety lather froths as you patiently wash his hair, which clings to his wet curls like vanilla frosting. The deep crease between his brows eases with each gentle swipe into his locks, and the invisible force pulling his lips downwards slackens. By the time you rinse out the bubbles, you don’t miss the way the tension in his body unwittingly goes with it down the drain.

When your nails slide slickly into his hair with the conditioner, his stubborn body finally, slowly unfurls. His head tips back of its own accord, baring the column of his strong neck as he leans inadvertently into your touch. Colour returns to his knuckles when he releases his death grip on the backwash. 

You smile to yourself, scraping your fingertips along his scalp in a firm massage, watching his chest rise and fall as he teeters on the brink of consciousness.

As your thumbs trace a confident path down the back of his skull, they appear to find a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and it's as if a switch is flipped. You witness the exact moment he breaks - his back arches off the leather seat, his obstinate lips part with a strangled half-sigh catching in his throat as he yields his full weight into the palm of your hands.

If you're not careful, you could get used to this.

‘Still with me, Morales?’ you tease quietly.

He garbles incoherently, and you grin.

Frankie practically molds into the chair like warm wax when you shepherd him back to the styling station. You’re so chuffed with yourself that you don’t even feel the need to gloat at the way his eyes are glazed over and how his head lolls into the soft pressure when you run a fluffy towel through his hair. The man recoiling at the mere brush of your fingers a distant memory.

You run an assessing eye over him, brushing out his locks to gauge your game plan. ‘I like this length on you, so I’ll just trim the split ends and tidy up your sideburns. You’ll benefit from some layering too - it’s a bit heavy on top right now.’

From the way he blinks owlishly at you, you know he doesn’t catch a single word. He shrugs and says matter-of-factly. ‘You can’t do worse than Pope.’

The salon is quiet this afternoon, as it tends to be on Wednesdays. You let him enjoy the peace for a little bit and tap your foot to Ashton’s playlist as your styling scissors move over his curls in metallic snips.

‘Tip your head forward for me,’ you instruct, sliding around the back of his head on your wheels as you probe, ‘So - how are you feeling about the wedding?’

The fabric of his t-shirt bunches over his shoulders as they quirk noncommittally.

‘It’s just a few days away.’

He makes an indifferent noise. But you’re not so easily dissuaded from conversation, and he knows it.

‘Can’t be easy - watching your ex get married.’

Frankie pins you with a long-suffering stare in the mirror. ‘We broke up a year ago.’

Getting onto your feet, you ruffle your fingers through the crown of his curls. ‘Yeah, but you dated for years. She sure moved on quick.’

He huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Swapping out the styling scissors for blending shears, you argue, ‘What? It’s a legitimate observation. I’m just making conversation here.’

‘Or we could just sit here quietly.’

Ha. As if you ever listen to him. You press on, ‘Why did she invite you anyway?’

Frankie’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender as he humours you. ‘It’s a damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t kind of situation, I guess. The whole town’s invited.’

‘You sure she isn’t trying to flaunt it in your face or something?’

‘Flaunting implies I still care. I don’t.’

You give him a juvenile nudge nudge, wink wink. ‘Well, on the bright side, you’ll definitely get laid, being the heartbroken ex and all. Chicks love that shit.’

He dispatches a side-long stare in your direction. ‘I’m not heartbroken, and that’s not why I’m going. And you know none of this is any of your business, right?’

‘You’re no fun,’ you pout.

He quips, ‘As a professional hairstylist, you really should be better at making polite conversation.’

You snort. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to call me rude when I have scissors in my hands?’

Frankie watches you work in the comfortable lull that’s settled between you, gliding the blades along strands of his curls pulled taut, before running a fine-toothed comb through to brush out the loose tufts. Soft coils land on the floor around his chair as you work your way methodically through his layers.

‘Are you going to the wedding?’ he asks eventually.

You shrug. ‘Maybe, depends on my schedule. I gotta say, I’m kind of curious to see how tacky it will be.’

At his eyebrow sternly cocked, you argue, ‘I know she’s your ex and all, but she’s always been a bit tacky. I mean, that remodel of your house was just tragic.’

Frankie frowns. ‘How do you know all this? You’ve never been to my house.’

You wink. ‘Benny tells me everything when I do his hair.’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course. Benjamin fucking Miller.’

You give him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m on your side, if it helps.’

‘I don’t need you on my side.’

You flash him an insufferable grin. ‘Too bad, Francisco. I am and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The hairdryer drowns out any further conversation, and Frankie quietly studies you as you cord your fingers through his hair, ruffling it as it dries.

It’s still a bit damp when you switch off the hairdryer and reach up to pull a couple of jars from the shelf above. ‘On the day of the wedding, I want you to wash your hair just before you style it. You have a hairdryer at home, right?’

He throws you a pointed look. ‘I’m not a heathen.’

You grin. ‘Down boy, just checking. Now, you’ll dry your hair until it’s still a bit wet, like so.’ Presenting the styling mousse to him, you say, ‘Then go on and grab some product - you only need a dollop.’

He dips his index finger into the pot, scooping up a generous blob. Your attention is unexpectedly piqued at the sight of his hands. 

Have they always been so big?

Realising he’s staring at you in wait, you shake yourself out of it. ‘Ok, rub the mousse onto your fingertips and run them all over your hair, combing from root to end.’

Frankie does as he’s told, face set to a serious scowl as he impeccably goes over each section of his locks, staring into the mirror to make sure he gets every strand. For the first time, you see the pilot in him up close, and you wonder if he’s this thorough about other things, like -

Laundry, your mind interrupts as it careens on the brink of the metaphorical gutter. Get your shit together, Shiv.

‘Good,’ you smile when he’s done, hoping he doesn't see the strain in it. ‘Now, I want you to rake your fingers through the roots when you dry your hair all the way.’ In demonstration, your nails burrow into the base of his thick hair, then you wriggle your fingers upwards towards the ends. ‘It will give you lots of volume and really show off this cut.’

Passing him the hairdryer, you watch him critically in the mirror. He imitates your movements, a bit clumsily and far too cautiously. Leaning down to his ear so he can hear you over the whir, you instruct him, ‘Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.’

He chokes and pins you with a wide-eyed stare in the mirror that glances right off your oblivious self. Along with your words, nothing about this exchange would register in your head in any other way until much, much later tonight, when you replay the conversation in your head in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness. 

It may or may not have you squealing into your pillow in latent embarrassment - and something else.

But for now, you’re happy with the way his hair has set, and you gesture for him to switch off the hairdryer. Turning his chair towards you and away from the mirror, you scan your eyes over him and make small adjustments - tucking a couple of strands behind his ear here, a couple of final snips there. 

As a final touch, you bury your fingers into his locks, dragging your fingertips through the roots to impart a final tousle so that the curls are loose and soft. You preen at the way he sways into your contact, all shyness gone, his hooded eyes half-closed - before he seems to catch himself and sits up with a self-conscious ahem.

Grabbing a small bottle from the shelf, you say, ‘Last thing - your beard is a bit dry as well. This oil will keep it nice and moisturised, just two or three drops after you wash up in the morning will do.’

Tipping his face up by the crook of your finger and opening up his neck to you, you smooth the ointment along both sides of his jaw, rubbing circles into his neatly trimmed whiskers and all the way up his sideburns. Sliding downwards, your hands seek out the closely shaved stubble tucked beneath his chin. Then, by sheer momentum, your palms continue down his throat in a slow, sticky descent, until the pads of your thumbs slot into the hollow between his collarbones, your fingers resting at the base of his neck where you feel his pulse rabbiting underneath. 

The air thickens and shifts between you. When he swallows, you feel the ripple of the moment against your fingertips. 

His eyes are on you, and suddenly he’s too close, his skin too hot under your hands. To your horror, something akin to shyness rears its head and you almost stumble backwards to put a safe distance between you.

Scrubbing the oily residue from your hands on a towel, you break the moment with a wink and a steadier smile than you actually feel. ‘You look good, Morales. Ready to take a look?’

‘As if you would take no for an answer,’ he mumbles under his breath. Fondness might be too strong of a word - but you don't think you're imagining the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

With a dramatic ta-da, you spin his chair around with a flourish.

Frankie Morales is obviously not a vain man - he most likely owns five pairs of jeans that he’s worn on rotation for the past fifteen years, his t-shirts are washed ragged, and his trusty leather boots have seen better days. He probably doesn’t use a mirror other than for purely utilitarian purposes, like checking if there’s something stuck in his teeth from his last meal.

But right now, by the way he’s holding his breath as he meets his own eyes in the reflection, you can tell that he’s really looking at himself for the first time in a long while. 

You pretend to busy yourself with tidying up the styling station as you discreetly sneak glances at him, feeling strangely bashful for intruding in this moment. When he remembers to breathe again, he tilts his head left then to the right, and back again, even swivelling his chair from side to side so he can peer round the back.

You’ve parted his waves to the side, the lighter cut allowing his curls to carry their natural shape. The healthy sheen, courtesy of the mousse, tempers his grays to a softer, burnt silver that catches the light fetchingly as he moves. Reaching up, Frankie pushes back a stray curl that falls over his eyes, and his back straightens in a quiet show of confidence.

Running a salon is hard work and often thankless. But on days like this? You know you’re meant to do this.

A dramatic gasp draws both of your attention. Ashton is clutching at his chest, backed up against the neighbouring styling station, gaping at Frankie. ‘Mister - you look good enough to devour. Look at that salt and pepper, I’m living for the grays. Doing the Lord’s work, Shiv!’

You laugh as Frankie flushes, scratching an invisible itch on his forehead. You brush the loose hairs off his shoulders with a towel and give him a nudge. ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks you look good with the grays. You better stock up on the condoms, Morales, the ladies will be all over you at the party.’

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he stands up, rubbing his palms on his jeans, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. ‘I doubt it, but - thanks. I appreciate this, Shiv.’

He shrugs on his well-loved burnt yellow jacket, the one with the sleeves perpetually folded up above his wrists and grabs his cap. You hold out a paper bag with the free shampoo and conditioner you promised him, throwing in a jar of hair mousse for good measure. ‘You’re welcome, and you better not put your hat on again this afternoon after all that hard work.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag from you, then, as if it’s the logical next thing to do, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your right cheek, his stubble coarse against your skin - and you know without looking it’s the gray patch in his beard that brushes against your jaw as he draws back. You fumble, feeling heat prickle the back of your neck and blooming in your rib cage. 

He flashes you the most self-assured smile you’ve seen on him this afternoon, which has you biting your bottom lip. ‘I won’t. Maybe see you at the wedding, Shiv.’

It takes you five full seconds to regain motor functions. By the time you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Frankie’s already out of the door with a spring in his step.

In companionable silence, you and Ashton watch the pilot strut - because that’s what he’s doing, he’s strutting with a confidence that becomes him - across the road through the glass front of the salon.

‘What a dish,’ Ashton sighs dreamily, flopping into a chair as if his limbs have given out. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

You smile. A girl could always hope.

Notes: It's the first time I'm using a nickname for a Reader, but I have a real soft spot for Shiv, and I think she deserves one. I'm not sure where the fandom stands on this, does it disqualify the fic as a reader insert? If anyone has an issue with this, please let me know! For me, Shiv has no physical descriptions so to me she's still a reader insert.

I don't know if anyone expected this kind of dynamics between these two, but it's been so much fun to write with a bit of antagonism in the mix. I hope you enjoyed this, reblogs and comments are so, so appreciated as always. Thank you for reading ❤️

[intimidating-fettuccine]

idk if this is allowed but maybe laughing jack or candypop x pregnant reader? hope this doesn’t break any rules 😭

I technically have two LJ pregnancy posts, click here for telling LJ you're pregnant, and click here for a couple headcanons of him during pregnancy

As for Candy, I hope both of you enjoy ^^ I just included both the requests since you both asked for it.

ABSOLUTELY over the moon once Candy finds out the news that you're pregnant. Candy has always been a big family man, and he's always felt a bit lonely since the loss of his original family all those years ago. To be able to start a new family with you here and now makes him so indescribably happy, he almost doesn't know what to do with himself, he's basically vibrating and he can't stop (gently) scooping you into his arms because he's so excited. At one point while he's hugging you he begins to cry because he's so overwhelmed, and of course, you get concerned for him, but he assures you it's just because he hasn't felt this excited about something for a long, long time.

Candy keeps his eyes on you a LOT during your pregnancy. He doesn't want you to push yourself or let you get too stressed because he doesn't want any harm to come to you or the little one developing inside of you. He makes sure to go to all of your appointments with you and remember any information they tell you, and he makes sure if they tell you any recommended vitamins you should be taking to pick them up when you guys are heading home, and he makes sure you're eating all the right stuff. He almost gets a bit more into your pregnancy than you are, but he's just so excited for the three of you, yes, including the little one. When it comes to the possibility of knowing the gender before the baby is born, I think Candy would want you guys to be surprised, especially since it's not 100% accurate. Plus, he thinks it's fun to think up names for both possible genders, although I also think he's the type to try to think up a few gender-neutral names, that way you could find a name both of you love that could be used for your baby regardless. He loves just laying down with you at the end of the day and staring at each other as you cuddle up, just saying random names until one of them clicks, it's so domestic and it's a kind of bliss he's wanted with you for so long.

When it comes to decorating a room for your baby, I feel like that's one of the most exciting parts for Candy to be quite honest, as he loves decorating, and knowing it's for your baby just makes him so hyped up. In my canon bedrooms in the mansion adjust to however the person living in it wants it to look accordingly, so an extra door and another little room are soon added inside Candy's bedroom for the two of you to use for the baby. Rather than letting the mansion decorate itself, though, Candy decides to paint and furnish the room with the two of you. He paints the walls himself, and I think he'd paint a beautiful landscape, with clouds and fields, and the far wall at the top is a starry night sky, under which you can put the crib. He loves picking out furniture and toys for the little one with you, although I'm also sure Jason and LJ make a whole metric fuckton of toys for the two of you as Candy's best friends. When it gets into late pregnancy and you have a harder time moving around he's more than happy to carry you himself, especially because it gives him a reason to be closer to you. He's a huge help to you throughout your pregnancy, and he just can't wait for the two of you to meet your baby once they're born, as he knows the two of you are going to love and care for that little guy so much together.

[ladysarai]

@inception30daychallenge, Day 31: A letter to Inception fandom.

Dear Inception Fandom,

Friends, I am Old. I have been around the block and back again. I am old enough to have read fanfic on the computers in the school library and printed out fics for my friends because they did not have computers at home. I read fanfic on dial up. I cut my teeth on fanfic on FF.Net, on AngelFire websites, and on AOL Message Boards.

I say this ONLY because I want you all to know How Long I have been in Fannish Spaces, and how many fandoms I have been involved in, so that you can believe me when I say: I have NEVER encountered a fandom like this one.

If you look at my AO3, you'll see that most of my posted fics are dated prior to 2010. I spent most of my 30s not being particularly fannish. I didn't post fics. Once LJ made the move to DW, I lost track of fandoms and friends (and never really grasped Tumblr, tbh), and whatever writing I did, I kept to myself. I thought I had lost the ability to get fannishly obsessive over a piece of fiction. There are a lot of Real Life reasons for this--jobs, health, family crap, mental health, selling my home and building a new one, working in healthcare during COVID... And I was put on a medication a few years ago that, it turns out, basically induced depression, but I didn't realize it until February of this year, when I stopped taking it.

It was like a switch was thrown in my brain, and I suddenly wanted to read fanfic and create again! It was great! And one day I was rereading old fics by a favorite author and thought "what else did they write?" and saw they had Inception fics. I thought "huh. That was a fun movie. It provided the premise for the very best RP game I've ever been involved in. Why not?"

As they say, the rest is history. I fell down the rabbit hole of Inception fanfics, discovered an obsession with Arthur/Eames, and dragged my bestie @nutterzoi down with me. I swear that in April, I watched that movie basically every other day for the entire month. And then we started writing fics. I have now posted FOUR Inception fanfics since the middle of June. With Zoe, I'm working on a Big Bang and on several other fics. We literally have a gdoc of ideas for fics because otherwise we will forget them all.

This is all great, Sara, but what about the fandom? Guys. Friends. Zoe and I have been writing fanfic together basically nonstop since before Y2k. We have not posted any of our fanfic since prior to 2010. UNTIL NOW. And the reason I am happy to write and post fanfic? For other people to see and read?? Is because of YOU, the fandom.

This movie is 14 years old, but the fandom is alive and active. Arthur and Eames have about 3 minutes of screen time together, but over 8,000 fics on AO3! @inceptiversary came along just as I was finding my footing here on Tumblr, and MAN, the things everyone has come up with for @inception30daychallenge just blow my mind! The creativity, attention to details, impressive meta and gorgeous fanart and graphics are incredible. Maybe some of the reasons this fandom is so calm and comforting is that I missed the early growing pains, but it is FUN to come into a well established fandom with so much to read and see!

But even more than that... this fandom is KIND, and WELCOMING. I point out again that I am Old. I have reached the point in my life that I do not want to spend time around people or spaces that are not comfortable, especially online, which is where I go for my escapism and fun. Every single person I have interacted with in the Inception fandom has been friendly and encouraging. I hope you all know just how rare this is for both a fandom and for an online space. THANK YOU for being so wonderful. In more ways than one, you have restored my faith in fandoms and fannish spaces, and in my place in them. I certainly hope you're all okay with being stuck with me, because I do not see myself going anywhere.

Thank you for giving back a part of myself that I thought was lost and gone forever.

Love,

Sara

[bisexualbaker]

do you know of any kind of "introduction to dreamwidth"? i didn't grow up in english language fandom and while i caught the tail end of LJ's lifespan i never got used to it. i've had a DW account for over a decade but i simply don't know how to make use of it beyond browsing very specific writing prompt communities.

Hello! Here's some links you might find helpful:

Basic Dreamwidth for Tumblr Users by @star-anise A Tumblr User’s Guide to Dreamwidth by @aniamraDW for Tumblrites Masterpost by potofsoup

@dreamwidth-help hasn't updated in a long time, but they still have lots of useful information!

A lot of Tumblr users also made Dreamwidth accounts in 2018 in response to the porn ban, to the point where Dreamwidth made an official News post welcoming them. There are a whole lot of resources linked in that news post, which you can find right over here.

If you need anything more specific, or just more help with any of this, please let me know and I'll do my best to help! You can also comment on the latest news post and ask for some help there; a lot of very helpful people hang out in the comments there, and are very eager to lend a hand!

[kyliafanfiction]

Because I'm apparently a masochist I'm back to digging through threads on SB and Reddit and SV about Amy and Worm and Ward and Wildbow and like -

It's really fucking stupid of me to keep doing this because A) Still haven't finished Worm, B) Still never gonna read Ward in it's totality and C) This is basically an elaborate form of self-harm. Like I'm going for bits where people make the arguments I believe because they reaffirm to myself that I'm not crazy but I'm still exposing myself to this discourse. And it pisses me off and for fuck's sake it's literally the reason I didn't sleep last night because I read more discourse and it wouldn't stop turning over in my head.

But the other thing that is really key as to why this is stupid is that

D) None of this shit is new.

How many times have I been around this block, of people insisting that a character can't ever be redeemed ever because their victim won't forgive them (when redemption and forgiveness are distinct things) or that saying a character who did awful things is also sympathetic or also a victim of X Y and Z is 'apologia' or 'whitewashing'.

How many times do you see people saying that contextualizing or even yes, defending (ish) a fictional characters alleged crimes, or arguing the text is actually ambiguous about the nature of the crime or that pointing out that in this work of sci-fi or fantasy this element of the crime that literally cannot exist in reality changes the entire nature of it is actually defending the crime IRL?

I have been around this block so many fucking times, anyone who's tumblr experience or fandom experience has been more than a few fandoms has been around this block unless their taste in characters always ran to the banal and vanilla.

So why do I keep looking for this discourse as if I'm gonna find some bold new notion? At a certain point, the various sides aren't really even having the same conversation, as happens time and time and time again, and I'm not even looking to debate interpretations at this point.

I sometimes feel like one of the problems of the Worm Fandom is that despite largely initially growing out of the SB-side of internet fandom, it actually experienced something akin to the LJ/Ao3/Tumblr fannish experience, but ex nihilo, without the long, long history of how to deal with this sort of stuff.

(Not that ao3 or tumblr are free of shitty people in these kinds of issues, granted)

And even now that there's wormblr, that SB-inability to actually understand transformative fandom and all else that comes with it has still infected large swaths of the space.

Not all of it, of course, and again, not like tumblr is actually some super chill place in other fandoms, but I really feel like the worm fandom sometimes seems to think they invented certain near universal fannish experiences.

[arokel]

10 questions for 10 writers

thank you so much for the tag @strangethings-everywhere ! secretly I've always wanted to do one of these

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

Way of life for sure; I'm basically never not thinking about it. I start to feel awful and purposeless if I go too long without writing at least something.

2. A journal full of notes or a clean completed manuscript?

Clean completed manuscript, unfortunately. I wish I could be less persnickety about my first drafts but so far that hasn't happened. I do sometimes make extensive outlines though and those are always by hand, but they're usually pretty clean too :/ no scribbly scribbly for me

3. Who or what inspired your writing?

I've been writing since I was five years old and telling stories since I could talk, so I guess I'll say that when I was first reading chapter books I asked my parents why books always have a few blank pages at the end and they said it was so you had space to continue the story yourself if you wanted. They made it up on the spot and they don't remember saying it at all, but it's always stuck with me.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Listening to me sing, 100%. I post my barely-edited first drafts on ao3 all the time lmao. But I also feel like with a first draft it's easy to say hey this is a first draft, if there's stuff you don't like I'm happy to hear criticism! Whereas with singing, that's just your voice. You can practice the song but at some point whether they like it or not just comes down to something about you that you can't change. (Although I am a hashtag classically trained singer so my feelings of needing to live up to that might not be universal.) (Don't ask me to sing opera for you because I don't actually like opera.)

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

I think most of the perspective changes that have come out of stories have been from reading for me? Like the first time I was really exposed to the idea of transness was a Harry Potter fic (suck on that, JKR) and that obviously really stuck with me. But I think the desire to write from queer povs really helped me come to terms with my own sexuality, maybe more than actually doing it. I guess writing narrative essays, which I do less frequently than straight up fiction, is usually a way for me to explore things I feel about myself and about the world.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 foreverrrrrrr. I was on ffn in my misspent youth and Very briefly on lj, but ao3 has been my home since 2014 and it would take a lot to get me to move.

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

646,046, and soon enough it'll jump another 100,000. Honestly not sure how I feel about that.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

I will never not love Tamora Pierce's Tortall series. I know they're kind of dated and don't hold up in some places, but they've been in my bloodstream so long that they're basically a part of my understanding of the world. They shaped so much of my ideas on literature - how to create compelling characters and relationships, what makes a world believable, what fantasy even is - and honestly I think they're responsible for about 50% of my sense of humor and at least a quarter of my relationship to gender. They were my first fandom and in the end I'll always come back to them.

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

One of my plays deals with a very difficult emotional subject and is quite frankly pretty depressing the whole way through, and after the premiere a friend of mine came up to me and said "it was so so funny; I was laughing the entire time." That's what I always want my writing to do, not so much in fic but out in the world - I want to give people catharsis, and I hope they leave the reading or viewing experience feeling a little better than they did going in. And also I want people to laugh at my jokes.

10. What defines your writing style?

Can I say inconsistency? No but really it's definitely dialogue. I struggle with descriptive prose sometimes, but I never have to work at dialogue. I think it's my strongest area and people always tell me it's snappy (thank you Tamora Pierce). Other than that uhh... too many commas probably.

tagging @violasmirabiles @fregata-magnificens @kjxlll @borealopelta @uwu-dowoon @teaforarteza @icegreyrose @shadowquill17 @ris-d-deridex and using my 10th tag for anyone else who wants to participate!

[billybob598]

Ok so a couple thoughts on the USA and just other big teams that got knocked out.

Definitely not what we expected from the US but why did we expect that? Think about it, this a young team where most of the starters and subs were all at there first World Cup. I think this needed to happen to the US. they needed to not be the best anymore and for the next couple years just completely start over. The old generation is starting to leave so it's time to get a clean slate with these new young players. Basically, restart the program. Morgan, Rapinoe, Ertz, and O'hara are among those who are probably done. There were some amazing younger players that shined this tournament (Naomi Girma, Emily Fox, even Sophia Smith though not as well as expected). Its good for the US to just restart with a new team and a new coach *cough cough fire Vlatko. This team needs to spend more time on the field together. Remember Japan won in 2011 and the US came back with 2 world cup wins in a row, so I'm guessing in 4 years when these players are a little more experienced and have played with each other more they will be a really good team.

Now, my point that they need a fresh start with young players and a new manager is exactly what some teams have already done or need to do as well. Take England. They brought in Sarina a new manager and she just completely did the team over. Leah williamson as the new captain, Beth Mead on the squad, younger players like Russo, Toone and LJ getting minutes and shining. And then they won the Euros. See I think the US certainly have the talent they just need to build off of it.

Ok so Canada. I think same thing. Sinclair and Schmidt and Chapman are all probably on the way out. Now we got younger players, Huitema, Olivia Smith, Riviere, Grosso. I like Bev priestmann a lot, but I think if we want to see a new Canada team that utilizes the young and up and coming players we might need a new coach. Definitely a disappointment of a world cup from canada.

Germany and Brazil are pretty much the same. Brazil is losing one of the best players of all time, someone who has been the centre of that team for like 2 decades. They have such amazing players, Geyse being the young player that comes to my mind. Piano Sundhage I'm thinking is gone. and now it's just about again, getting the younger players time to shine alongside each other. And Germany. Oh Germany. Again, they have such amazing young players, Obi (who is arguably the best young player in the world rn), Brand, and Sydney Lohmann. I don't want to say Popp will retire because let's be honest that woman could play forever. But, the old generation is on it's way out and the new generation has to be shown the same kind of love. When you have such amazing young talent you have to take the future seriously and not just try to hold onto the past. I think that goes for all the team aforementioned.

Anyways that's it from me. Hope you enjoyed my Ted talk

[lynne-monstr]

I Wonder in both novel and drama why Ruan Nanzhu never confessed his feeling to Lin quishi ??

i can't speak to the novel because i've only just started it. but for the drama (aside from censorship reasons) i like to think that ruan nanzhu didn't think he needed to. he's basically already saying it every single day.

a few early examples from the top of my head

his opening gambit went hard (pun not intended). he gave his crush a ring.

and the whole "why did you break up with your gf" (fishing for info) followed very quickly by "i've never had a girlfriend" is basically the equivalent of passing a note in elementary school asking do you like me. check Y or N.

IF YOU CAN'T FIND A GIRLFRIEND HOW ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE (the verbal equivalent of stripping naked, jumping up and down and shouting pick me, pick me)

"i need you. you can't die." that scene was A Lot.

and that's not even counting all the intense nonstop hearteyes and touching and soft smiles and

at this point, outright saying he likes him is practically redundant.

on a slightly more serious note, and going by the "i was made for you" drama canon I'm kind of into the idea that ljs values actions over words. people can say all the nice things to him in the world, but what matters is how they treat you. do they abandon you when you need them? do they stay by your side? do they take your side?

and so rnz doesn't say the words. instead, he lives them.

[cosmic-clown666]

I brought my little lj to work with me a few weeks ago and one of my coworkers ended up hanging on to him while I was busy. This is what she sent me from that day lol. This is basically a Lj blog at this point

[the-s1lly-corner]

What the Creepypastas Call You

++ tim and brian!! Ik they're marble hornets, but it'd feel off not to include them since they're so deeply entangled in the fandom at this point and I can't bring myself to exclude them <\3

As I stated in my rules post, I will not be including any characters that are in source minors, even if I'm using my own au for all of these (said au I will go into depth ab, but it takes place years in the future), I am not comfortable writing anything romantic for those characters even if I aged them up!!

Slenderman:

Darling

Sweetheart

Dear, Dearest

Love, My Love

Anything like that, really. He's polite when he addresses you, and is nothing but a gentleman when it comes to you

Yes, I know this dives VERY deep into fanon and OOC territory, but can you blame me? I can't imagine Slenderman using any other type of petname for his Dearest S/o

Laughing Jack:

Sweets, Sweetheart, Sweetcheeks, Sweetpea, Sweetface. Basically he'll call you Sweet(x), even if it sounds stupid (and he'll likely laugh at the nickname as well)

Toots

Pretty Boy/Girl

Gumdrop

A lot of LJ's nicknames are, unsurprisingly, based around sweets and candies.

He seems the type to also call you Shnookums, or however it's spelled

Will pinch your cheeks if you get flustered by the names

Eyeless Jack:

Babe, Baby

Your actual name

I LOVE Eyeless Jack, don't get me wrong. But he doesn't seem like the type to really use nicknames, at least to me

But honestly? What's more intimate than EJ pulling himself close to you, letting his walls slip for just a moment, and he oh so quietly mutters your name as he holds you tight and close

I don't know, saying someone's name in moments like this always

Hit different for me

Tim/Masky:

Prince/Princess

Babe

Sweet-Thing

Pretty Boy/Girl

Like EJ, I don't think he really. Does petnames? He doesn't really give me those vibes

Brian/Hoodie:

Pumpkin

Again, also uses Babe

Sweetie

Sweets

A man of few words, and a man of fewer nicknames

He prefers to hold you

So sorry that these started getting shorter and shorter as the list went on <\3 I'm mostly writing this to pass time :(!!

Anyways

I hope you all enjoy it and!! If you guys want me to add any characters please let me know!! I guess these 5 are gonna be my main group, but I'm more than happy to expand it so!!

Yeah!!

[marzonomy]

Hey I love your writing!! I was wondering if you got any comfort headcanons of Brian, Tim or LJ X reader (romantic or platonic) recovering from self harm? This is a sensitive topic, so you can deny it if it makes you uncomfortable!! I've been working on getting clean but none of my irl friends or family know so um, might sound stupid but ig I'd like a little "I'm proud of you for getting better"... Sorry if that sounds weird or dumb ^^`

Again, you're free to deny it. I wouldn't want you to write anything that makes you uncomfortable!!

Hii! The only things I won’t write are noncon, bestiality and pedophilia- yk, the basic stuff. I even have a draft about reader ‘attempting’ so don’t worry about making me uncomfortable ^^

I may add Tim and Brian later but I need to do my laundry rn ☠️

L.J. (Romantic)

Bro literally lives in children’s minds so I’m sure he already knew

Didn’t wanna bring it up before you were ready though

Did, however, make it a point to be even nicer to you than he was before

Leaving you little notes about how much loves you, letting you know he’s proud, etc

Giving you candy (that isn’t poisoned)

Just stuff like that

He knows you’re suffering, and he knows what that’s like. He can’t push to get better, you have to make that choice for yourself. But he does worry about you constantly.

When you finally tell him, he does his best to act surprised.

Very happy that you felt comfortable enough to come forward

Absolutely encourages and supports you.

When you relapse, he will NOT let you feel bad about it

Immediately tells you that it’s okay, that progress is not linear.

Regularly smothers you in kisses

When they heal into scars, he kisses them too.

Also draws stars and flowers on them.

Overall one of the most supportive people in the manor.

I mean, you were the first person to give him genuine love and not just abandon and forget about him, it’s the least he can do

[ellzilla]

I'm curious about your Jill because I've seen you draw her a few times with LJ so are they like friends? What exactly is their dynamic?

This is a good question because I uh. don't really know! I've been debating to even adding Jill because of the rewrite. Initially she was going to be Jack's guardian angel that physically manifests a bit too late and becomes the only thing keeping him sane for so long and being basically his only friend/meemaw while he's RLJ but I think that level of divine intervention would detract from the story and level of tragedy I want and it'd make the story a lil cluttered/disjointed. For now she's still Jack's guardian angel but I'm probably gonna portray her as more of a "back of the mind worry" for Jack that tries to steer him away from danger [which is actually in the lil chunk of story I showed :3c] but that also means no physical design. Also wouldn't interact with LJ as he is now then considering uh. guardian angels assigned to people in my lore follow their souls and LJ's soul is ''corrupted'' to the point it's no longer the soul she got attached to.