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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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End Game #9 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: during the final nationals match against kyoto, the captain wins a bet.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: mild angst/comfort, established relationship (pet name-angel), mostly just fluff and volleyball, swearing, more fluff and volleyball

note: HELLO VOLLEYBALL!GOJO NATION *crickets except for midi cheering alone at the back of the stadium* uh anyways i know it's been months since i updated this, but i wanted to give you all a gift for the new year starting with the series that brought me a lot of new friends at the beginning of my blog's creation! i can't thank you all enough for the support you've given this series and i hope you enjoy this last (official) iteration :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <33

“Looks like they’ve gotten better,” you observe in slight disbelief while the scorekeepers flip the board to show 25-23. By some miracle, Tokyo managed to rip the fourth set from Kyoto’s hands right when it seemed that all was lost. It still didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach. “A lot better.”

“Or, we’re becoming inferior,” Yaga growls with fiery determination burning under his sunglasses. You slide the basket of water bottles from under the bench and stand to grab the box of clean towels. Your coach inhales one more time to speak and you already know what his command will be. “Deal with Satoru.”

“I’ll do my best.” From the start of the fourth set, Kyoto had Tokyo on the run again. Despite their best efforts, Tokyo was struggling to hold up against the relentless pace set by their opponents, fighting to maintain their resolve and willing the other team to break first. Between the time of your first practice match and Nationals, Kyoto’s players significantly improved, much more than your team’s. Though they’d made steady progress over the past few months leading up to these crucial games, it seemed that the slope of Kyoto’s improvement was steeper. It also didn’t help that, wherever you looked, you were surrounded by the most prestigious volleyball recruiters in the world with their shiny reading glasses and slender fingers tapping away at their keyboards. Both teams were essentially under a microscope, none more than the third years that were at their wit’s end trying to prove that they were pro-material. And, whether people acknowledged it or not, all eyes were on your boyfriend and captain of the Tokyo team, Gojo Satoru.

“He’s overexerting himself to the point where he’s making mistakes,” Suguru says to you quietly when you hand him a bottle. You nod, both of you aware that he’s preaching to the choir. “To the point where I’m noticing, so that means they’re noticing.” He tilts his head up to the stands, where you catch a few Jujutsu Volleyball Society officials conversing with whom you could only assume were Olympic recruiters. The thought of them discussing Satoru’s abilities and reputation in blunt detail makes you wince.

“Have you talked to him about it?” The vice-captain shakes his head, eyeing his best friend warily.

“Haven’t had the chance to.” The corner of your mouth turns down and you follow his eyeline, recognizing the familiar fake smile and emotionless blue eyes while he charms some brave fans that pushed their way to the court’s barricades. “Even now, he isn’t taking a break.”

“Mmm, well, you know him,” you sigh. The group of lovestruck girls hand Satoru various items and printed photos for him to sign and he takes them, flicking a black marker over their surface with all the grace of an old Hollywood movie star. “It’s always about others, never himself.”

“Except when it comes to you, then he gets to be selfish,” Suguru reminds you and you shrug. Your casual response causes his eyebrows to draw in concern, like he was alarmed by your indifference. His tone is much more unsure when he asks for clarification. “Right?” You inhale deeply and shake your head again, gathering what little thoughts you could from the jumbled mess in your mind. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No, no. We’re fine…I think,” you half-heartedly reassure him, but the skeptical raise of his eyebrows tells you he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “He’s just been off, lately,” you admit. “I think the pressure that’s been building up for three years is finally getting to him.”

“Pretty inconvenient time to crack, don’t you think?”

“Burnout doesn’t wait for you to finish Nationals, Suguru,” you conclude, patting him on the back in farewell before you find Satoru. “Good luck in the last set. And, for the record, the evenness of your gameplay hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Recruiters can see how reliable you are. If they don’t, they need their eyes checked,” you joke before maneuvering between players to find Satoru on the bench, in Yaga’s spot. His eyes are dulled from exhaustion, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. His forehead is covered in sweat and you kneel in front of him to wipe his face with a dry towel. “When’s the last time you drank water?”

“The last time you asked me if I drank water,” he answers and you know he’s trying to force his sing-songy lilt into his voice, but it falls flat onto the court floor. “Thank you, angel,” he murmurs as you swipe the towel over his eyes, allowing him a brief second of relief from the blinding fluorescents above.

“Of course. I’ll let you get away with it this time, even though I miss those pretty blues,” you whisper and the smallest smile appears on his face. But he can’t bring himself to look at you, not when he’s on the brink of falling apart. It was killing him just as much as it was killing you, watching him stumble during the one moment where he needed to stand tall the most. The pressure was getting to him and his final appearance at Nationals was compounded by the scathing words of his father, the unimpressed stares of Jujutsu brass, and the intense scrutiny from the recruiters he was trying to win over. “Need anything else, captain?”

“A long fucking nap,” he groans and you hum in assent, letting his warm cheek rest in your freezing palm. “This’ll do, for now.”

“Alright, Atlas, but you’re gonna have to get back to holding up the world in about five minutes.”

“Holding up the world is fucking exhausting,” he mutters. “Being captain is exhausting.” Before you can come up with another comforting response, his eyes suddenly fly open and peer at you with more intensity than you’ve seen within the past few days. He pulls away from your hand and looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s come to some revelation. “You called me captain.”

“What?”

“You called me captain,” he echoes slowly, a dazzling grin breaking out over his face that you didn’t realize you’d missed so much. You’re speechless, startled by his newfound enthusiasm from just one word. “You actually did it.”

“I guess I did,” you respond with obvious confusion.

“Say it again,” he says with all the seriousness of announcing a death.

“Satoru–”

“Say it again,” he repeats and you don’t realize how close his face has gotten to yours, so close that you can smell the faint minty smell of the gum he’d stolen from your bag. “Please.”

“It’s good to see you back to normal, captain.” His smile grows even wider and suddenly he’s kissing you, with both hands on your cheeks and leaning over you while you continue to kneel on the floor in front of him. Your face is set on fire, keenly aware of the thousands of eyes that can see both of you and this display of affection. Satoru doesn’t seem to care, though, and the glittering brightness of his eyes is all you focus on when he pulls away.

“What can I say? You bring out a different side of me.”

“Cheesy lines too? You’re feeling better than I thought.”

“Nothing like winning a bet to light a fire in a man’s heart.”

“You know, if I’d known that was all it took to get you back, I’d have said it sooner,” you chuckle and his lips peck your nose until you gently push his face away. “I’ll ask about the change in behavior after you win. Now, go,” you giggle and he all but leaps from the bench, instantly in top-form and letting his voice boom through the building as he calls his team to him.

“It’s fifteen points,” he reminds them, who muster up all their energy to look more confident after noticing the shift in their captain’s behavior. “Fifteen points at Nationals for the first time in who knows how long, so make ‘em count. Don’t let me take all of them,” he taunts and real confidence appears in his players, dead set on snatching the points away from Kyoto. “Let’s go!”

And, just like during the practice match and the match at the beach, no one is safe from the sheer power of Gojo Satoru. It’s as if he’s woken from the dead, refreshed and wielding enough energy to elicit sparks from his fingers and flickering of the overhead lights. When you look at his eyes, they’re not the hollow pits they’ve been for the months leading up to Nationals. Instead, a dark shadow of unrelenting resolve covers his eyes and radiates from his body like an aura, sending shivers down the bodies of opposing players. In true Satoru fashion, he exploits every advantage he recognizes, whether that be a skill of his own team or the pitfall of the opposition. He knows you’re watching, too, and trusts your eyes like they were his own. Kyoto makes a mistake by calling a timeout when they’re down, 13-11, and Satoru makes a beeline for you; in hushed tones, you relay what you see before he can open his mouth.

“Todo’s hiding a limp on his right an–”

“Ankle, and Kamo’s primarily using his left hand to launch spikes. So, that means–”

“Something’s off with his right, maybe a jammed pointer finger or tweaked thumb. They’ll think you’re gonna take the final point of the game to show off to the recruiters, so if you fake a hit on the left edge, bait Todo and the front line to block you–”

“Suguru can blow past Kamo’s weakened right hand–”

“And the Tokyo Jujutsu team wins Nationals,” you conclude as the whistle blows, lightly swatting Satoru’s arm to urge him back onto the court. “Go, stupid. You’re almost there.”

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he calls, skipping onto the court and yanking Suguru by the back of his jersey, pulling him to the side to confirm the plan. He shoots you one last wink before broadcasting a hand signal to the rest of the team behind his back. With Nanami, Megumi, and Yuuji in the front row and Suguru, Satoru, and Inumaki in the back, it was the ideal rotation to shift leverage to Tokyo. A deafeningly powerful jump serve from Satoru immediately throws Kyoto off balance, and it doesn’t take much for Suguru to send Todo’s unsuccessful hit to Megumi, who pulls the same infuriating dump that he achieved during the practice match. “That was bold,” Satoru says to his protégé with pure admiration, “even for me.” Megumi shrugs, but stands a little taller from satisfaction with his point.

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you think I’m awesome, even if you won’t admit it.”

“I was talking about Geto,” Megumi deadpans and Satoru’s face contorts into indignance that makes you laugh from your seat.

“He’s not even a setter!”

“I was kidding, captain. Let’s win already,” his student responds impatiently. And win, they did. The final play you discussed with Satoru pans out flawlessly, with all attention going to the captain of the Tokyo team in anticipation of the game-winning point, only to be sent to his right-hand man. The cacophony of cheering and cries of joy is eardrum-shattering, but you don’t care as the rest of the team rushes onto the court and buries Suguru in a dogpile. Your heart swells at the sight of the nods of approval from the recruiters given to Suguru and Satoru, whispering among themselves and writing down their contact information. Despite Yaga gripping his sunglasses so hard that the frames broke, it doesn’t seem to bother him as he slams his palm onto the players’ backs with pride. You even think you catch Todo teary-eyed from the other side of the net, yelling something about being happy for his best friend. Hours of celebration later, as you walk with your hand in Satoru’s down the quiet streets of your neighborhood, you finally get to ask him why calling him ‘captain’ had such a profound effect on his psyche.

“Being happy about winning the bet isn’t enough?” You look at him doubtfully and watch his cheeks turn a little pinker. “Alright, fine. But, you can’t make fun of me for this, okay?”

“I promise,” you say, making a big show of hooking your free pinky finger in his. “At least, I won’t make fun of you in public for it.”

“That’s enough for me,” he concedes with a smile. “It’s just…winning at Nationals wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve done this year, not even in all three years of high school.”

“What’s been the most difficult, then? You were literally on the verge of burnout today, so I don’t know any other circumstances where–”

“Winning you,” he murmurs, stopping you on the sidewalk and turning you to face him. The streetlights are dim enough to where the moon shines off of his hair and his face seems to glow like a statue carved from marble. “That was the hardest thing I’ve done.” You blink once, twice, and still don’t understand.

“What do you mean, ‘winning me?’ How am I harder to get than winning Nationals?”

“Nationals was my dad’s dream. It always was. I started caring about going to Nationals when we made that silly bet to get you to call me captain. But, I’ve cared about making you fall in love with me since you took a sip from my soda can during our first year.”

“I’m still not a fan of that fizzy sugar water,” you chuckle and he looks at you so fondly, so softly, that you’re glad his arms have found their way around your waist to hold you up and keep you standing. “You’ve loved me since our first year?”

“I loved you before I knew your name in class. And then, today, I figured if I could get you to fall in love with me when I thought it would take a lifetime, I could win some National volleyball title.” His pretty mouth breaks into that lopsided grin that you’d fallen for time and time again.

“‘Some National volleyball title,’” you echo, slightly delirious from how warm he made you feel. “As if I’m more important than that.”

“Because you are,” he vows with utmost devotion that makes you dizzy, kissing you under the spring moon like it was the first time he could finally see you clearly. “You’re more important than anything, and that’s the truth.”

He was infuriating, to say the least, but you’d found that you didn’t mind how much he irritated you as long as he loved you just as much.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #satoru gojo #jjk volleyball au #jjk au

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the-greatest-fool · 1 month

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I basically only post and read posts in my bubble aside from occasionally scrolling through Real Tumblr, but people’s takes about US politics on this website are fucking unbelievable. They talk about our government as if it didn’t save us from a pandemic-induced financial collapse, pump trillions of dollars into public works, not to mention substantially invest and rein in pharmaceuticals, and is instead some sort of ultra-neoliberal-corporate kitty shooting machine.

Like let’s be for real. Do they…know what the government does? How it works? Do you know what a conservative is? Do you know what an authoritarian is?

Because a system of government whose citizens are all lucky it has had continuous peaceful transfer of power for centuries could very well have its greatest norm violated—that those who reject its legitimacy must be rejected—and we don’t blink an eye.

Because the first major investment against climate change, coupled with life saving investments into healthcare, cancer research, and drug costs could be shredded by indiscriminate fiscal conservatives who don’t care if we die in forest fires, cancer from pollution, lose insurance because we’re jobless, or, apparently, all die in a fricking plague.

Because a foreign policy establishment that had finally reversed two decades of foreign intervention in favor of a normalization strategy aimed at reducing American foot presence, drone strikes, and indiscriminate killings is about to be replaced by the whims of a man who dropped the “mother of all bombs” on the Middle East, gave American soldiers up to Russian bounty hunters, extorted a foreign leader for political favors and arguably indirectedly resulted in that country being BRUTALLY INVADED BY AN IMPERIAL NEIGHBOR, is in the pockets of CCP-funded billionaires, and WANTS TO “FINISH THE JOB” IN GAZA.

Because a President who is against family separations and promotes a path for DREAMERs and more legal immigration and rights for unodcumented people could be replaced by a man who wants to separate families, PUT UNDOCUMENTED PEOPLE IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS, RESTRICT EVEN LEGAL IMMIGRATION, ESPECIALLY THAT OF MUSLIMS, AND SHOOT MIGRANTS.

Because a President who stopped a repeat of the Great Recession and the painful decade that followed it with strong fiscal stimulus which CUT CHILD POVERTY IN HALF BEFORE CONSERVATIVES MADE IT EXPIRE, then managed to cut deficits and presided over a decline in inflation, resulting in record high real wages (aka taking into account inflation) for workers is going to be replaced by a President who wants to TARIFF ALL FOREIGN GOODS by 15%, CUT TAXES FOR THE FILTHY RICH AND THE TAX ENFORCEMENT TO STOP THEM, INCREASE CHILD POVERTY AND UNINSUREDNESS by cutting gov’t programs, and HURT UNIONS which by every measure will lead to lower wages, higher prices, and more poverty and starvation.

Because a President who has pledged to sign a bill codifying Roe v. Wade (which has yet to be possible in recent memory, whatever these kids say), who enshrined the right to marry someone of the same sex or different race, who supports the Equality Act which would enshrine LGBTQ protections into the law, could be replaced by THE MAN WHO REMOVED AMERICA’S RIGHT TO ABORTION, whose Christian nationalist supporters want to END SEXUAL FREEDOM as we know it including TARGETING IVF AND BIRTH CONTROL, who wants to reverse LGBTQ discrimination law in favor of Christian bigots who hate queer and trans people, and who demonizes that community to win political support.

Ask yourself if you really think there’s no difference between the two. Ask yourself if a reasonable person given these facts would choose the latter. Ask yourself why you see so much propagandizing against the reasonable choice. Ask yourself why so many people seem to have opinions on this when they “don’t even go here”.

Maybe I’m just preaching to the choir here. Maybe people who say this inane stuff wouldn’t vote anyways. Maybe somehow we’re screwed anyways. Maybe people will stupidly vote third party and we’re fucked. Maybe this will get me attacked.

I don’t care anymore. If I have to see one more fucking post acting like we live under the fucking Evil Empire while a SELF PROCLAIMED DICTATOR is about to end the best streak of decent governance I’ve ever seen in a while, I just can’t anymore.

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jbuffyangel · 3 months

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No Turning Back: Arrow 1x16 Review (Dead to Rights)

“Dead to Rights” otherwise known as the episode Tommy was right about everything.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver and Tommy

A great deal of Season 1 is focused on Oliver’s relationship with his father Robert Queen. The promise Oliver made his father is the force that drives his mission, but there is a flip to that coin. There is an adversary pushing back against Oliver’s mission with equal, if not more, force.

There is no saving Starling City if there is no one to save it from and this episode finally reveals the identity of that adversary. If Oliver had only listened to Tommy, or remotely paid attention to ANYTHING he said in this episode, then so much could have been different. I’m speaking with hindsight, given that this is a Season 1 rewatch, but I don’t believe the writers were trying to hide this point.

It’s Tommy’s birthday and his father Malcolm Merlyn crashes his party. He’s receiving a humanitarian award (HA!) and would like Tommy to attend. Things are pretty chilly with these two since Malcolm shut off the money faucet, but honestly it’s been a good for Tommy.

He’s realized he can stand on his own two feet which gives him the confidence to tell his father to go to hell.

Malcolm takes narcissism to a new level to show up on Tommy’s birthday and make the event about HIM. It’s always about him, which is exactly what Tommy tells Oliver when they have lunch the next day. Oliver’s heart is in the right place. He encourages Tommy to give his dad another chance because Oliver knows what it’s like losing a father.

Oliver: My dad made mistakes. We haven’t talked about this, but I have a lot of anger towards him. But still I would give anything to have him back because at the end of the day your dad is your dad.

This is the first time Oliver has expressed anger towards Robert in anyway, so I want to be sure to note it and give him credit for naming the feeling & expressing it.

This speech also addresses the complexity of Robert’s death. If you’ve been wondering how can Oliver just pick up this enormous responsibility Robert dumped on him, which is essentially cleaning up HIS mess, and not feel resentful in anyway – then you can stop wondering. He is resentful and angry as any human being would be.

Oliver can’t express that anger because Robert is dead. His grief and overwhelming guilt overshadows his anger. This is why Oliver is encouraging Tommy to give his father another chance because he would give anything to have that opportunity with Robert.

But the thing is - Tommy also knows what it’s like to lose a parent. His mother died when he was just a little boy. Oliver is literally preaching to the choir. Yes, his father is alive but appearances can be deceiving. Merlyn disappeared for TWO YEARS after his mother died. Malcolm may not have been physically absent when he returned, but he was emotionally absent. Tommy is telling Oliver he felt abandoned by his father when he needed him most. He feels like an orphan. It was Oliver’s family that gave Tommy the love he needed.

I’m a little surprised Oliver doesn’t remember Malcolm disappearing for such a long time, but he was a little boy so I’ll give him a pass. What’s astounding to me is Oliver does not put these clues together.

Let’s run it down:

1. The List is comprised of one percenters destroying Starling City with their illegal activity. Malcolm Merlyn is one of Starling City’s wealthiest citizens.

2. He was a friend of the Queens. Maybe not every rich person is on the List but his proximity to Robert means he deserves a hard look. He also floats in close proximity to Moira (another person Oliver stubbornly refuses to see any connection to the List even though SHE HAS HER OWN DAMN COPY).

3. Merlyn disappeared for TWO YEARS. Oliver came back a trained ninja/Russian spy with exceptional archery skills after five years. He doesn’t pause for even a second to wonder if Malcolm could have also acquired a similar skill set like, oh I don’t know, the DARK ARCHER!!!!

4. MOTIVE. Malcolm’s wife Rebecca was murdered. A super villain is always the dark reflection of the superhero. (Read a book Oliver). Robert’s death spurred Oliver’s mission to save the city. Maybe the Dark Archer’s mission to destroy the city is centered on a similar pain.

5. The Triad hired contract killer Floyd Lawton to kill Malcolm Merlyn. Why are world’s worst criminals trying to kill Tommy’s dad? These people typically don't associate with Disney princes.

6. Oliver has personal knowledge Malcolm Merlyn is a world class dick.

Oliver can’t ask Felicity to find out where Merlyn went for those two years? You know who does finally ask? TOMMY. Swipe the passport Oliver. Look for a Nanda Parbat stamp. Mystery solved my dude. This is like watching E.T. miss all the Reese’s Pieces. WHAT AN ENORMOUS OAK TREE!!!

Rather than read between any of these lines, Oliver pushes Tommy to make up with Satan.

Moira is intimately aware of how evil Malcolm is after he murdered one husband and kidnapped another, so she’s the one who wants him dead. She wisely puts a couple layers between Floyd Lawton and her – hence hiring the Triad to hire the assassin.

Unfortunately, Tommy listens to Oliver’s terrible advice and goes to the humanitarian event which throws a kink in Moira’s plan to kill Merlyn. She doesn’t want to kill Tommy’s only living parent in front of him, but that’s how the cookie crumbles kid. Moira is resolved. This is going down – Tommy or no Tommy.

Malcolm does give a damn about his son and breaks out his super ninja skills to save Tommy from Triad thugs. He shoots one in the head at point blank range, which makes a lasting impression on Tommy.

He leads Tommy to his safe room upstairs because he’s always prepared for anything.

Malcolm is just about to reveal the Dark Archer suit to his son, but the bullet proof windows get blown out by a rocket launcher of some kind? I’m not sure on the weaponry, but Lawton is always prepared too. Malcolm is wearing a bullet proof vest, but it doesn’t stop the bullet in his shoulder from poisoning him.

Source: @fogsblue

And guess who arrives just in time to help? UGH.

Source: @olliequeengifs

Oliver explains Malcolm needs a blood transfusion to survive. Tommy’s experiences with the Hood haven’t all been positive, so he is skeptical to say the least and keeps a gun on this loon. Oliver realizes the only way Tommy will listen is to take off the hood.

Source: @olliequeengifs

Tommy has a lot of WTF questions, but it all has to wait as Oliver prepares the blood transfusion. DAMN IT OLIVER!!! JUST. LET. MACOLM. DIE.

Detective Lance questions Tommy about the vigilante’s identity, since he was saved AGAIN by the Hood, but Tommy answers honestly, “I don’t know who the hell he is.”

Even though Tommy feels betrayed by Oliver he is loyal and still loves him. So, he protects Oliver’s secret. In return, he wants Oliver to answer one question:

Source: @olivergifs

This answer endlessly fascinates me. Oliver will not tell his family, his girlfriend or his lifelong friends but trusts his most intimate secrets with two people he hasn’t known for more than a year. I think there are two main reasons.

He provided the first in Episode 5. Moira, Thea, L*urel and Tommy know who Oliver was before the island. If they truly knew who he is now, if they really see the rage and darkness he keeps simmering underneath that carefully crafted robotic surface, then they will know the full extent of his trauma. They will see him as broken, as less than. Maybe they will hate him like Oliver hates himself.

And Tommy’s reaction to Oliver’s secret identity is a confirmation of his worst fears.

The second reason is Oliver believes his mission will end, so there’s no need to tell anyone. He cannot see the full picture yet, but either Oliver will succeed in his mission or die trying. Given Oliver’s fatalistic outlook on life, the latter is the far likelier scenario he anticipates. In fact, he may believe the only way for his mission to succeed is to die.

This is the moment it could have all been different. Now the mission is on a collision course with the Merlyn family. If only Oliver put the clues together sooner, if only he didn’t reveal his identity to Tommy, if only he didn’t save Malcolm, if only, if only, if only…

But none of those things happened and now the consequences will play out. There's no turning back.

Merlance

This episode is the high point for L*urel and Tommy, so let’s just savor the moment.

L*urel throws Tommy a little birthday party and invites Oliver and McKenna over for dinner because everyone is so mature and the best of friends.

Tommy: I have finally figured out why poets have been in business the last thousand years.

Oh my Merlance. Can’t we just stay this way? This is so close to an “I love you” but we’re still so very far away, which is really sad because Tommy and L*urel are happy and stable. They are opposites in almost every way, but that’s why they work. We can see the humor, ease and joy in their relationship as Tommy is getting ready for his father’s award ceremony.

Source: @arrowsource

Small moments can mean just as much, if not more, than the big ones in a relationship. In the immortal words of Pacey Witter, “Oh I could do this. The salty and the sweet.”

I don’t doubt for one second that Tommy loves L*urel. The X factor is L*urel. It’s always been her. I believe she loves Tommy. I also believe she’s IN love with Tommy. I just don’t think L*urel knows that yet because she’s still hung up on all her Oliver crap. The fact she doesn’t know really pisses me off because TOMMY MERLYN IS EVERYTHING.

Tommy knowing Oliver’s identity is obviously going to impact his relationship with L*urel; particularly since I’m sure he will remember discussing with Oliver her obsession with the Hood. AWKWARD. Oliver being a friggin superhero is also going to hit Tommy right in the gonads.

Tommy and L*urel are on a collision course with Oliver now that two thirds of this love triangle has the full truth between them. This collision was probably always going to happen. L*urel deserves the truth from Oliver too and if she finds out it will open a very big can of worms with Tommy.

But why should it? Oliver being a vigilante should not be the driving force for L*urel wanting to be with him. It does not change the fact that Oliver SLEPT WITH HER SISTER. I’m sorry, but there are just relationship deal breakers and that’s one of them. She can forgive him, but that doesn’t mean she has to BE with him.

Stray Thoughts

Felicity has adorable workout clothes. This is not a surprise. I also love that Diggle feels protecting Felicity means teaching her to protect herself. I love this friendship.

“I’m more of a runner.” Stephen Amell pretending to be in terrible shape is hilarious.

Robert Queen was a pilot. So that’s how Oliver learned to fly.

Sara had a pet black canary. This show has the subtly of a jack hammer.

“Code breaker is my middle name. Actually it’s Meghan.” We were spoon-fed Felicity tidbits like this for a solid three seasons and each one left us craving for more.

Oliver fixed a radio in the flashbacks. It was riveting.

Listen to the @watchover-podcast reaction to 1x16!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me.

#arrow #arrow 1x16 #arrow reviews #arrow season 1 #arrow season 1 reviews #oliver queen #tommy merlyn #merlance #tommy and oliver #laurel and tommy #anti laurel lance #john diggle #felicity smoak #season 1 episode reviews #season 1 episode review #dead to rights

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 month

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First of all, I love you and your work x 3000.

Second, thank you so much for the treasure that was “Bite.” I keep coming back to it and rereading it and loving it a little more each time. ❤️❤️❤️

Third, I wanted to ask a question: How do you think the dropped idea of a Rocket and Scarlet Witch roadtrip would have been like? These two characters would be interesting to explore.

you. are always making me blush. and you know i adore you and your work as well. (seriously folks i hear there’s a slice-of-life au coming out soon so check out this author on ao3) ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ it was honestly a pleasure and an honor to be able to gift you with something small to balance the scales on all the joy your writing has given me and the support and encouragement and friendship I’ve benefited from through our conversations. i appreciate you so much and frankly you deserve more & better

secondly. let me be clear. i am grateful they did not include this arc actually because the endgame writers would have FUCKED IT UP. they sabotaged rocket’s relationships with every avenger in a hundred small lines (still hung up on nat’s “he eats trash” comment; i can’t). they had a whole-ass opportunity to do something beautiful with him and thor and instead they made a mockery of grief, loss, depression, ptsd, and arguably genocide?? with an added dose of uncharacteristic body-shaming from everyone who interacted with thor including rocket, the guy with more body image issues than anyone in the galaxy. (i know im preaching to the choir with this) add in wanda maximoff — whose character arc has imo been repeatedly undermined and assassinated throughout her time in the mcu — and it would have been a recipe for disaster.

"We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." (CBR)

i forgive these writers for not knowing rocket’s backstory. they couldn’t. but you had two characters who lost everything in infinity war and you couldn’t think of anything beautiful or meaningful or interesting to do with them? i’m increasingly grateful that we barely ever saw rocket with nebula (another relationship they undermined but i fixed) because im sure it would’ve been a fucken travesty

these fuckin asshats. it’s no wonder they fucked up everything with thor. i wouldn’t trust them with any story that might mean something (hire me disney lol) (jk don’t you’re a very scary corporation)

anyway im sorry. i think you meant this to be a prompt and i will write that fuckin fix-it but first i needed to rage & seethe.

[[exhales]]

okay. im going to think on this and write a little snippet of what i would’ve liked to see and i’ll dedicate it to you as one of my headcanons lol

everything i learn about endgame makes me more mad

#rfh asks #hibata #endgame rants #rocket raccoon #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #guardians of the galaxy #endgame

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Your Little Monsters

Summary: After an exhausting day, all Reader wants is some intimate, alone time with her husband. But her children have other plans. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, BiBi Barber, KitCat Barber, RoRo Barber, A.J. Barber

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Bubble Baths, Exasperated/Horny Reader, Exasperated/Horny Andy, Adorably Scarred Barber Kids, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of the Growing Pains Series. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Semi-proofriend. All mistakes are my own.

___

Your whole Friday had been chaotic from the start, and you were over it.

It begins with Andy sleeping through his alarm, which meant (by default) so had you. After helping him get ready, you’re off to go wake up the kids. The only one who willingly complies is your sweet little RoRo. She immediately gets out of bed when you ask, right before sleepily walking into a wall.

And then she apologizes to the damned thing before turning around and going to the bathroom.

You have to physically pull KitCat out of from under the covers and threaten to take away her Kindle privileges to get her to act right.

“I’m gonna write about dis’.” She threatens. “You no look good.”

“Do your worst, kiddo.” You tell her, unfazed by your potentially unflattering portrayal in your six-year-old’s journal. “Now go brush your teeth.”

And A.J. had an accident, his first in months. He’d leaked right through his pull-up. You call Andy to take care of him as you strip his sheets from the bed and throw them in the corner. Your District Attorney was already late. What would an extra twenty minutes hurt? You tell Andy to just give him a quick sponge-off in your bathroom and then you move on to your oldest daughter’s room.

You find BiBi sitting up in her bed.

“I would like to make it known that I do not wish to attend school today.” She tells you.

“Aww.” You respond, almost out of patience. “Well, do it anyway.”

She huffs out a breath. “If I do, it will be under duress.” You suddenly regret buying her that “Word of the Day” calendar.

“I’ve got a couple good words for you, sweetheart. It’s called truancy laws. Now get dressed and get in the bathroom. We’re running late.”

She crosses her arms and glares at you. “I’m serious. If you’re not dressed in five minutes, I’m sending Daddy in here to pick out your clothes and you know he’s horrible at matching outfits.”

BiBi huffs again before propelling herself out of bed.

“Thank you.”

When it was all said and done, of course you’d missed the bus. Once again, with the help of Andy, you get your kids loaded into your car before handing each of them a strawberry poptart.

And you make it to their school five minutes before the first bell is supposed to ring. Only to realize that you’d left all of their packed lunches in the fridge.

Damn it!

___

After bringing the kids their lunches, you spend the rest of the day doing laundry and running errands.

You knew via quick text from Andy that he’d had a rough day in court. They were just in preliminary proceedings as far as you knew, but he had been a little off his game today.

Preaching to the choir, Big Man.

But still, you felt bad for your husband. He prided himself on his ability to do his job, so he took setbacks personally.

You’ll make him feel better tonight. You vow.

You look down at your phone, realizing you only had an hour before you had to pick the kids up from school.

Time to focus on dinner. Tonight’s meal was barbecue pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, and french fries.

With a sigh, you jog into the kitchen to check on your crockpot pork roast. Grabbing a fork, you test its tenderness. You bring a piece of the shredded meat to your mouth and let out a groan. Between the onion and garlic, along with the dash of cinnamon and liquid smoke, the flavor was wonderful.

Reaching for another fork, you begin to shred the roast, which falls apart with ease. Once that part is done, you reach for your homemade barbeque sauce. This particular recipe belonged to your late grandmother, so you made sure to hold it close to the vest. Just like you did with your great grandmother’s macaroni and cheese recipe.

Not that you were making that tonight.

You check your phone.

Forty minutes until pick-up.

It only takes you a few minutes to whip up a quick slaw to go with the sandwiches. You’d cheated this time and bought pre-packaged shredded cabbage instead of slicing your own, which sped things along. But you still made your own dressing.

Once it’s finished, you put it in the fridge to chill. And then you turn off your crockpot. After that, you reach into the cupboard to grab the extra cheesy Goldfish Crackers. You and your kiddos loved these suckers. They were addicting! You also loved that the first ingredient in every bag of crackers was *smiles*. Anyway, you quickly pour some into four different snack bags.

17 minutes until pick-up.

Snagging your keys, you jump in the car and make the trip to your kids’ school for the third time that day. You earn your spot in the pick-up line with seven minutes to spare.

Your kids come rushing out, excited to see you. After hugs and snapping little people into car seats, you take off for home. Before you pull away, you hand out the snacks so that you can hopefully enjoy a little silence.

It works for a while, which is great because you eventually end up stuck in traffic. Fucking construction.

And that’s when the arguing starts.

Someone’s bag had more crackers than everyone else (Bianca). Somebody was touching someone who didn’t want to be touched (A.J.). Someone was being a meanie and kept sticking their tongue out at everyone (Katrina). And now someone was crying (Rory).

You try to break it up and calm things down. You do! But then you feel a headache forming behind your left eye. And when it gets to a point when you feel like losing your cool and screaming at your children, you decide to be quiet.

You remember how much your parents used to scream and hit to get you and your siblings to behave, and that never solved a damned thing. So, you grit your teeth and work on getting your temper in check.

Thank you goodness you were almost back at the house.

___

Things calm down once you get home and your babies can retreat to their own spaces and activities. RoRo goes for her coloring book. KitCat grabs A.J. and begins to read him a book about Spot the Dog. And BiBi curls up on the couch for a little nap.

Fine. With. You.

You’re frying the french fries when Andy walks through the door. You know he’s home because all of your kiddos begin to shriek with excitement.

Good. You think. Exhaust yourselves with Daddy. Mama needs her space.

Feeling like a bad mom, you grab a bottle of Advil and pop three pills before chasing them with a glass of ice water. Keeping an eye on the first batch of fries as they cook in the oil, you turn the crockpot on “warm”.

Your mind stays focused on dinner until you feel two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, followed by the whisper of a kiss before a face buries itself in the curve of your neck.

“Hi, my love. I missed you today.” Andy murmurs against your heated skin as he inhales your scent.

“I missed you too.” You tell him, allowing yourself to relax against his muscular frame. “Baby, is it bad that I want to feed our little monsters and put them to bed like now? I love them dearly, I do. And I swear I’d kill for them, but I’m ready for the day to be done.”

“Nope. Not at all. I love ‘em too, but I want my wife tonight. So, I say we feed ‘em, bathe ‘em, and put ‘em to bed as soon as we can. It doesn’t make us bad parents. It makes us human and -”

“Shit, the fries! Hold that thought, honey.” Grabbing your strainer, you begin to dump them onto a paper towel covered plate before lightly salting them. Once you’re done and you’ve scraped out the brown bits from the pot, you add more fries to the oil and start the process again. The first batch was for the kids. The second would be for you and Andy.

“What’s for dinner, Y/N?” Your husband asks.

“Barbecue pulled pork sandwiches.” You say as you grab the buns. “With homemade sauce and slaw, along with french fries.”

Andy groans in excitement.

“Yes! I fucking love your pulled pork!” Your man does a little jig before picking you up and setting you on the counter. “You and all your delicious fucking food are the reasons I workout all the time.” He growls as he places soft, warm kisses along your jawline. “Always trying to fatten me up. Always taking such good care of me and the kids.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nibble on his lower lip before sucking it into your mouth. Andy growls, prompting you to release him with a slight pop.

You flash him an impish grin.

“I figure if I fatten you up, then you’ll have a hard time running away from me.” You tell him with a giggle. “To be continued, Andy Bear. I gotta get the fries again.”

He reluctantly lets you hop down so you can repeat your earlier process. And then you pull the slaw out of the fridge.

“You want me to make yours or do you want to change your clothes first?” You ask as you grab your tongs and begin to mix up the meat.

“I’ll eat that now. And then I’ll eat you later.” Your man doesn’t miss how his words make your thighs clench together in anticipation. “Oh yeah, I’m definitely saving room for dessert, baby girl.” He purrs as he watches you prepare his food. “I love making you blush. It’s so fucking adorable.”

“Well, stop it so I can concentrate, you menace. Slaw on the sandwich or on the side?”

“Never. And on the sandwich, please.”

You pile his sandwich high with the pork and then top it with the slaw. And then you load his plate with fries before handing it to him, along with a bottle of ketchup. He immediately takes a bite and lets out a satisfied moan.

“Taste alright?” You ask him.

“Fucking better than alright. Goddamned delicious.”

“Glad you like it. And watch your language, buddy. The kids are nearby. Now, you’re gonna have to get your own drink, sweetheart. I’ve got to make the kids plates.” You quickly put their meals together and set them on the table alongside Andy.

“Babies! Time for dinner!”

Grabbing two sippy cups as well as two plastic cups, you pour everyone some freshly squeezed lemonade and place them around the table as well, just in time for your kids to run into the room and take their seats.

You’re grateful when Andy pauses his meal to put ketchup on everyone’s plates as you make your own sandwich. Once you’re done, you join them at the table.

“Pass the ketchup please!”

___

Two hours later…

Teamwork makes the dream work.

Between you and Andy, you had your kids fed, bathed, and tucked in by 7:45pm. It was a little on the early side for a Friday, but they needed sleep and so did you. Besides, they’d all most likely end up in Bianca’s bed anyway. You guys had been smart to get her a full-sized bed instead of a twin.

Walking into your bedroom, you shut the door behind you and stretch.

All you wanted to do was fuck your husband, snuggle up, and go to sleep.

“Andy?” You call out.

“Bathroom, baby girl.” Padding your way towards the sound of his voice, you smile when you see that he’s run you both a bubble bath. He’s even lit a couple of candles, making the entire room smell like lavender and vanilla.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, leaving his deliciously toned upper body bare to your gaze.

“C’mere, Y/N.” Your man purrs, his normally clear cerulean blue eyes darkening with lust. Doing as he asks, you keep moving until you’re standing in front of him, where he hands you a glass of chilled champagne.

Taking advantage of your closeness, you rub your small hand up and down his chest, allowing your fingers to trace your name where it’s tattooed on his skin.

“I love you.” You whisper to him. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And I’d be lost without you, my sweet girl. Every damn day.” He pulls away to dim the lights and crack the door (to manage the steam), which you take as your cue to strip.

You find yourself blushing as he watches you remove your clothes. Biting your lip, you resist the urge to hide your body from him, which is ridiculous since he’s seen it all before. You worked out when you could, and you tried to eat well, but you weren’t a fan of the stretch marks that adorned your hips and thighs. They weren’t bad, necessarily, but they did make you feel self-conscious.

Your husband did not care. Not one bit. The last time you’d brought it up, he’d called them the marks of a warrior, and your wonderfully ridiculous man had meant it.

“These marks are a reminder of your fight to bring our four babies into the world, so please don’t hide them from me, baby girl.” He’d murmured as you’d cuddled together in bed one night. “Don’t ever think you have to hide your body from me.” His fingers had begun tracing several of the marks on your outer thigh. “It hurts when you don’t trust me with all of you.”

“I swear you grow more gorgeous with each passing day,” he tells you as his gaze leisurely peruses your hips and ass, his skilled fingers itching to touch.

“I don’t know about all that.” You murmur, feeling shy.

“Well, I do.” Andy grunts as he removes his pants. “And it’s the truth.”

He goes to reach into one of the bathroom drawers of your his and hers sink, specifically one of your drawers. You watch as your husband takes out some of the jojoba oil you like to use on your hair and scalp. Pouring some into his hands, he proceeds to apply it to your wild curls before piling them on top of your head and securing your mane with a hair tie.

Wiping himself off, he goes to refresh the bath. Andy rewarms the water and adds more bubbles. And then, with a slight shrug, he lights one more candle. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature, he holds out his hand.

“Let’s get in, baby.”

Smiling, you bounce over to him and let him help you into the spacious tub. And then he joins you, pulling your small body against his own.

“Oh, god this feels good.” You moan as the hot water soothes your tight muscles.

“I’m glad. I’d hate to sit here feeling like I was being boiled alive for nothing.”

“It’s not that hot.” You giggle before turning to face him, your breasts pressing against his firm chest. “Andy Bear?”

“Yes, little love?”

“I want kisses.”

Without a word he captures your lips with his own. It’s a slow, sensual kiss. Your tongues mingling and exploring each other’s mouths as if you had all the time in the world. Eventually, your man pulls away to nip at your lips, your chin, your jaw…anywhere he can reach.

You let out a little whine, prompting him to return his mouth to yours. He smiles into the kiss, loving the fact that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Andy’s hands go to tenderly grip your ass under the water, gently rubbing and kneading your flesh.

Moaning, you two deepen the kiss.

And then you hear a scream.

Jerking apart, you notice that all four of your children have joined you in your bathroom.

Bianca picks up a distraught Rory while desperately squeezing her eyes shut and muttering something about everything burning. “Gross!” Katrina shouts before throwing an arm over her face while using her free hand to pull A.J. backwards. He doesn’t mind. Your little boy is too busy wondering why Mama and Dada are “takin’ a baf’ togever”.

“Oh my god!” You yell, as you cover yourself by curling into Andy’s body and sinking deeper into the bubbles. “How come none of my four incredibly smart children know how to freaking knock?!” You bellow. “Go to bed and stay there!”

You watch as a little hand reaches out to grab your bathroom door and shut it. And then you hear a knock.

Andy laughs softly as you roll your eyes.

Sometimes your babies were so freaking literal.

“What?” You snap.

“We have a question!” KitCat yells through the door.

“Ask it tomorrow!” Your husband calls out.

“But, but is impotan’ Dada!” RoRo says.

“Are any of you sick?” He growls.

“No.” They all call out at the same time.

“Are any of you on fire?”

“No.”

“Do you have any broken bones?”

“No.”

“Then you’re all fine.” Andy grunts, trying to hold back even more laughter. “Go back to bed.”

When you don’t hear anything, you assume your monsters have finally accepted defeat. You let out a sigh before grabbing your loofah. Without saying it, you both know that the mood is ruined.

“We should’ve locked the door.” You tell him as you both wash up.

“Yep. Oh well. I was planning on having my way with you in bed anyway. Our little bubble bath was just a warm-up.”

“And what a lovely warm-up it was.” You lean over to peck his lips before rinsing off your body. Andy steps out first. He dries off and wraps the towel around his waist, before holding one open for you. You step into it and snuggle against him once more.

“Make love to me, Andy.” You whisper as you look into his eyes.

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.”

You open your bedroom door, only to see that your bed is occupied by four little bodies, who are all fast asleep in your bed.

“Are you serious?” You grumble. “Whaa - why?”

“Well,” Andy mumbles, “we did tell them to go to bed. We just never said where.”

With twin sighs, you both wander over to your respective dressers to grab some pajamas. You pull on some sleep shorts before Andy tosses you one of his shirts to wear. Once you’re dressed, you walk into your closet and pull out a pile of blankets. You proceed to make a pallet on the floor. And then you go back to grab pillows.

“Baby girl.” Andy whispers as you prep your makeshift bed. You look at him and then find yourself having to hold back a squeal as he lifts you in his arms. Your man quietly carries you out of the room, down the stairs, and into his office where he locks the door.

Yes! While you might've wanted soft and sweet not too long ago, you'd settle for hard and rough. All you knew was that you needed your man, and you needed him now.

Taking off his shirt and kicking off your shorts, you bend over the edge of his desk. Feeling horny and frustrated, you arch your hips and push your ass up in the air, before turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“Come take your cunt, Daddy. Need you to split me in two with that big cock. Want you to wear me the fuck out so I feel you for days.” You growl.

That’s all the invitation that your husband needs to fuck the shit out of your wet ass pussy.

___

Twenty minutes later, feeling sated and satisfied, the two of you make your way up the stairs. You climb onto your little bed on the floor and snuggle with your husband, enjoying the sweet ache between your thighs.

“Good night, my sweet girl.”

“Good night, my Big Man. Sweet dreams.”

___

You wake up the next morning, still on the floor, but this time you’re surrounded by children. RoRo is asleep on Andy’s chest, while BiBi is tucked in the crook of his right arm.

A.J. is snuggled between the both of you, while KitCat’s little body is half sprawled atop your own. You shake your head and smile, This was your life now, and if you were being honest, it was pretty great.

KitCat stirs for a moment. Opening her eyes, she whispers “Mama, we still have a question. Can I ask it now?”

“Yes, sweet baby.” You press a kiss to her curls. “What is it?”

“Well, we jus’ wanted tah know if we could sleep wif’ you. Das’ why we fell asleep in dah big bed. But you when you no get in, we come down here.”

Ahh. It all made sense now.

“Yes, you can sleep with us, my love. In fact, how about we get a little more sleep before we decide what to make for breakfast, alright?”

She nods and snuggles deeper into your side, as does A.J. With a sigh, you drift off, feeling thankful for your little monsters.

END

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will80sbyers · 1 year

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I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but one of the most frustrating things is seeing the intense, dogmatic reaction to any theoretical bi mike wheeler theory. I feel like a lot of it is rooted in misunderstanding how bisexuality actually works

I have not looked at the tag in hours, did something happen? 💀 I'm so tired of this whole thing honestly 😭😭😭

it's ridiculous that there are seriously people preaching that if Mike was bi it wouldn't make any sense or they would be disappointed

and that's low-key a biphobic sentiment btw, if you are seriously DISAPPOINTED that he's bi just because you thought something different when nothing was confirmed yet... what should I think exactly? it's weird at minimum if not outright biphobia that you have internalized

as I said, NOTHING is confirmed yet

people are allowed to make all the theories they want and they are not less valid for thinking Mike could be bisexual or queer... our experiences are equally important and deserve representation too

we should be a community and support each other anyway and instead we have to fight over a fictional headcanon...? why don't you focus on fighting the possibility that Mike is straight instead seeing that that would be malicious queerbait...

you definitely won't find me saying shit about Mike if he ends up being gay, even if I currently believe he's bi, if he is gay I will be fucking HAPPY, not disappointed just because my theories were wrong about that, if he is still in love with Will and he ends up the show being happy why the hell should I complain...??? that's literally being focused on your ego for some weird reason... I would just accept that I interpreted some things in a wrong way and that's it, I would be still so happy for these characters and their happiness!

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #ask #bi mike wheeler

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bravetemptation · 4 months

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I know that a majority of the people reading this will think I’m preaching to the choir but I’m gonna just say it anyway 😂

I have many reasons for disliking the plethora of women Harry and Louis have been connected to in the media, and not a single one of those reasons has to do with them being women.

I know, I know, crazy right? Except it’s NOT.

Because here’s the thing - yes, I believe Harry and Louis are in a relationship and have been for the last 13 years. But I don’t claim to know how they identify. They could be any number of labels that include attraction to women, and those labels could have changed over time, and to be completely honest, how they identify never really played into my opinion of the existence of their relationship.

(And there are plenty of people for whom this is not true and who will hate every women either of them is ever seen with based on principle or some shit, but I am not one of those people.)

The reasons I don’t like these women are varied and many, but usually boil down to two main things:

1. they are not good human beings, and

2. they are very clearly part of a PR relationship.

I could go back and bore you with the details on each one, but most of you were there or can look it up for yourselves. They were rude to fans who were kind to them. They supported people and things that were not great (or in some cases downright disturbing). They never once looked like they were genuinely excited to be with H or L when the paps were around, and when the cameras were off, even less so. And almost every one of them lasted for a very exact amount of time.

In the end, it came down to me looking at the information I was presented with and using very basic critical thinking. It was me literally seeing with my eyeballs the difference between when they were with these women and when they were with each other - the body language, the genuine smiles vs. the smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, the very poor attempts at holding hands, etc. It’s all there. If you refuse to see it, that’s not my problem.

It was never about them being women 🤷🏼‍♀️

#i could go on and on #hot take #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #one direction #louis #harry #larry

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swampstew · 9 months

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KIᒪᒪEᖇᑕOOK - ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 6

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and browse our phones, and eat some Girl Scout cookies as we begin tonight's story. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI.

˜”°•.˜”°• Happy birthday to me, to Wire, and to my Kid Pirate Stan-mate QuinLoki ♥ Let them eat cake! •°”˜.•°”˜

“Oi! Make sure you have the travel packs ready to go! These need to cool at a consistent temperature or they’ll be ruined, and then I’ll ruin your face!” Killer instructed Heat, stressed about the day’s Live TikTok stream.

Normally he wouldn’t sweat over a stream but today was a big day. Huge one. Been a busy month for him. So many people he knew personally had birthdays in July. Nami and Paulie’s birthdays had already passed, and his actual in real life friends too, not to mention Wire and Nojiko had birthdays coming up as well.

Today though. Whew. Today was the birthday of a friend near and dear to his heart. To everyone in the crew, and pretty much anyone who knew them.

Raven.

She didn’t ask for a cake but they said they were doing it anyways. He only brought out the fancy decorating tool set for desserts he took seriously, and Raven was close enough in his orbit that he was going to do something nice for her. A classic favorite of hers with some extra pizzazz.

“Here we go,” Wire muttered as he finished setting the ring lights and camera up. “You know you don’t have to do one for me right?”

“Are you kidding me dude?! Its your birthday! Everyone gets cake on their birthday, no exceptions.”

“You guys are already taking me on a two-week cruise!”

“Fuck yeah we are bro!” Kid barreled into the kitchen, recently promoted to baker’s not-assistant but equal partner/Cake Boss. Kid himself was shockingly adept at baking cake. Especially the box kind. “You deserve it. We all do! A nice vacation getaway, us and the crew.”

“Yeah yeah we’re nice guys. Shut up and get out of the frame. I’m still making cake for you,” Killer finished the layout of his tools, prepped the baking sheets and pans, pre-heated the oven, brought all ingredients to room temperature, and everything was in place.

“Why so nervous Kill? It’s just cake,” Kid’s brow bone became pronounced against his scarred skin, raised inquisitively.

“Their opinions matter to me!” Killer practically hissed out.

“The audience?”

“No dummy! Our recipients!”

Kid laughed, “Dude, no way be serious. It’s Raven and our TikTok friend, the most laid back people in the world.”

For some reason that resonated with Killer and he took some calming breaths. Gratefully drank the can of ginger ale Kid brought him.

“It’s just, I’m a perfectionist. I know it. It needs to be done just right!”

“Dude, preaching to the choir,” Kid thumped his back.

“Speaking of…did you finish the present?”

Kid stopped his reassuring back pats, “Don’t fucking talk to me. I’m going with plan b.”

Biting back snarky laughter, Killer dusted his apron, double checked his low ponytail, and straightened his helmet one last time before pressing the ‘Go Live’ button, muttering a quick, "Don’tfuckupdon’tfuckdon’tfuckup," under his breath.

“Hello everyone, Killer here,” raising a hand in the air, the short cut of his plain shirt showed off his swollen bicep. He and Kid had worked out an hour before going live, to look extra…camera ready. “Coming at you live with a trifecta of desserts. Well trifecta of cakes anyways. Everyone seems to be born in July so as a time honored tradition, I’ve been baking my ass off. I never make as much cake as I do during the summer months, y’alls parents got BUSY.”

The chimes of notifications flowed as the iPad showed the users commenting in.

“HAH! Every single one of you is celebrating your birthday today?” Kid laughed. “If that’s true happy birthday then. Unfortunately today’s cakes are already being made with people in mind.”

“Yes today we’re making three cakes: one we’re freezing for later, one being overnight shipped, and one we’re personally delivering later. Only the best for our besties.”

“Yo, Wh0_remones says, ‘Where’s a girlie gotta go to fill out the bestie application?' Sorry girlie, applications are closed until further notice,” Kid said with a smug grin.

“To be fair, we do have a lot of friends and its getting hard to keep track of who has birthdays and when,” Killer interjected. “Moving on, for today’s recipes we’re doing good ole’ box mix, made from scratch entirely, and one frozen because its ice cream cake!”

“And because it’s a dick move to eat someone’s birthday cake before them, I’ll be taste testing the scraps along with Heat and Wire,” Kid finished explaining their setup.

“We’ll start with the ice cream cake first!” Killer pulled out two Tupperware containers that had been set out 10 minutes ago. “So if you’ve watched my previous uploads, like video #20, you’ll remember I made my own copy of Oreos, which we call No-reo’s. In preparation for today’s live, I made a fresh batch of No-reo’s over the weekend, which we’ll use for the crumb layer, and I also used it to make No-reo ice cream cream. If you watched my homemade ice cream video, cough video #30 cough, you’ll know exactly how I made these,” he patted the two containers.

“Chocolate and No-reo ice cream, no better combination,” Killer mused. “So ice cream cake is pretty easy if you’re not putting in the extra effort of making the ice cream yourself like me! Store-bought is fine too. Now some people say that an actual cake layer makes for the perfect ice cream cake. I say NAY!”

“NAY!” Kid slapped the countertop.

“NAY!” Wire called out from behind the camera stand holding up the new Panasonic Lumix G9 they bought for TikTok. And for their upcoming vacation.

“In this household, we believe in a sliver of a fudgy, cookie crumb layer and that’s IT!”

“Get outta here with the other fancy shit!” Kid roared.

“Kid is going to crush these cookie ends with the rolling pin while we melt the vegan butter. In the meantime, I’ll make chocolate fudge. Using the same whipping cream for the fudge, I’m going to whip it into whipped cream with my prized stand mixer using powdered sugar and vanilla extract. For the fudge, we’ll use the remaining, still-liquid whipping cream with ethically sourced mini-chocolate chips, vanilla extract, and honey.”

The two men moved around the kitchen to begin their tasks while Wire read out comments to entertain them. The sounds of the blippy electro-synth lofi channel echoed in the kitchen, oddly in sync with their movements.

Killer evenly mixed the softened chocolate ice cream and layered it into the glass pan and two small 10 ounce bowls before setting them in the freezer. He set the fudge aside as he helped Kid combine the crumbled cookies with butter in a small, glass bowl.

“IceBreaker, asks, ‘What are your favorite ice cream flavors?’ Mine is coffee almond fudge,” Wire answered. “Heat’s not in here but his is Mint Chocolate Chip.”

Killer slapped a spoon in a bowl, “Then why the hell am I making No-reo flavor?!”

“Because I didn’t want vanilla as the top layer when you asked!”

“I ASKED what YOU wante—never mind, you’re getting what you’re getting,” Killer sighed. “I like ice cream fine, I just prefer it in a drink format, like a milkshake! I’ll drink any kind but my personal favorite, and I don’t want to hear shit from anyone, is cinnamon pumpkin flavored.”

With a snort, “I like Strawberry Cheesecake,” Kid answered.

“Don’t hold out on them, tell them why.”

“No reason!” Kid growled.

Killer tilted his head, “It’s not even ice cream, its frozen yogurt! And it’s from Dippin Dots!”

“I LIKE THE SMALL ORB SHAPES AND TEXTURE!”

Wheezing, Killer pulled out the glass pan and bowls from the freezer. Kid cleared the countertop of dirty dishes, cleaning them down soapy water and a sponge on a stick, rinsing them off and hanging them on the drying rack while Killer layered the chocolate ice cream layer with the fudge and cookie crumbles.

“We’ll let that sit for five minutes and then finish it off with the final layer of ice cream. While that sets and our whipped cream reaches its final form, we’ll prepare for the next cakes. Technically we’re going to make two cakes at once. Kid will whip up this box mix while I whip up a made-from-scratch cake.”

“Yes I can bake, before any of you start acting cheeky in chat,” Kid’s eyes narrowed as he ripped open the package with this teeth. A small puff of pre-mixed cake mix broke from the tear, lightly dusting Kid’s band shirt. He dumped the mix into a steel bowl and wiped the dusty debris off, the intentionally torn shirt lifted at the bottom, showing off a sliver of chiseled abdominals.

Killer stopped the stand mixer and replaced the steel bowl with Kid’s dry ingredients, scooping the bowl of whipped cream into a piping bag. Setting the bowl to soak, Killer grabbed the ice cream cake and made swirly whipped cream peaks over the face. Adding sprinkles and maraschino cherries on top of each peak.

Kid was adding wet ingredients into his steel bowl, setting the stand mixer to combine the ingredients, taking a proud step back. As it mixed, Kid went to the sink and cleaned the bowl that had the whipped cream. Drying it off, he brought it back to the countertop and added the wet ingredients for Killer’s cake, stopping when his cake mix was done. He scraped the sides and cleaned the mixer’s handle, setting the mixer on low to fold in the remains that hadn’t mixed in.

He poured ¾ of the batter in two round, 9-inch cake pans, setting aside some batter to add cocoa powder for the marbled effect. Once done, he poured dollops of the darker batter into the lighter batter. Creating a swirl effect utilizing a toothpick with a soft touch and concentrated look. When he was done, he restarted the entire process.

Killer had put the finished ice cream cake in the freezer and started mixing his cake’s dry ingredients in a plastic bowl. Slowly adding it into the steel bowl of wet ingredients and folding the mixture to combine. As he was doing so, he noticed Kid working on his second bowl of box mix batter.

“Why are you making it over again instead of adjusting for the appropriate amount of ingredients?”

“You’re not tricking me into doing math on live camera. Shit’s easier to do and less chance of messin up,” Kid barked.

Killer deadpanned to the camera.

“Ooook. Wire please pin the recipes to the top of the message board for everyone to see. Your ice cream cake is perfect, if I do say so myself.”

“I never got that phrase. You’re saying it yourself so what’s the point of pointing out that you’re saying it aloud? We get it, jackass,” Kid licked batter off his finger as he poured it into the second set of round cake pans, starting the marbled process. Adding the batter into a set of 2-inch round pans for the taste test.

Killer ignored him to read out, “RetroTumblrina has this to say: ‘Ok but the fact that you both put so much dedication into making things for your friends is so fucking cute?’ – heh what can we say, we cherish our friends!”

“Yeah we do!” Wire created a heart sign with his hands and placed them over the camera’s lens. The message board pinged and swarmed with love for the tallest man on the crew.

“’Scream_maim_fire I am on my knees begging, please let me slide down your legs like a fire station pole!’ a very enthusiastic response from FuzzyFirehose,” Kid snorted as he walked to Killer. “Stand mixer’s all yours and my stuff’s in the oven. Should be done in 25.”

Killer moved his bowl to the stand mixer, “Great! I can get mine mixed and have the frosting done by then too.”

“Cool, can you do the frosting for mine?”

“No. You said you’d do it all yourself and that’s part of it. Decorating it too.”

Kid’s eyelids squeezed shut in annoyance, “No, anything but that.”

“All of it. Now go clean these bowls to reuse for the frostings.”

The lofi channel lilted softly as the two men cleaned and mixed. Wire answered questions and read out comments as time passed on. Killer poured his batter into three, 8-inch bowls and two, 2-inch bowls, putting them aside for oven space. When Kid brought the clean bowls back, Killer quickly made his four-ingredient buttercream frosting. Making enough to fill out six piping bags with different colors and pulling out his handy frosting plug – a great tool for piping several different colored frostings from one bag.

“Zip_It2556 says, ‘You all are so lucky I am refraining from making the batter, icing, and frosting jokes running through my mind rn on god.’” Kid and Wire laughed out loud at that, with Killer shaking with his head tucked down.

“Actually its all of you who are lucky that we aren’t saying the jokes going through our minds right now. Trust me, you got nothing on us. You’re all on here drooling over us. Whenever I utter a single innuendo you all turn to putty in my hand,” Kid smirked with a cocked brow at the camera. “You all wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” Then acting as if nothing happened, Kid went back to his steel bowl to mix his frosting ingredients.

“Now who looks stupid?” Killer wheezed at a scowling Kid, who accidentally set the mixer too high and sent a mess of powdered sugar, cocoa, and butter all over his face and chest. While the flustered redhead cleaned himself and the mess up, Killer removed the marbled cakes from the oven and replaced them with his chocolate cakes.

By the time Kid remade the chocolate frosting and scooped it into piping bags, his cakes had been cooled and stored in a mini cooler Killer bought for the occasion.

“This is temperature regulated so I’m going to set it at a cooler degree to help bring down the overall heat in the cake. Then gradually I’ll lower the setting so it’s not stuck on the coldest degree and cause the cake to snap cold as it were. It would come out dry and crumbly. This method allows the heat to be condensed instead of seeping out, helping maintain moisture and then cool done enough to be at room temperature in time to frost. We’re going to clean up and take a short break, when we come back, we’ll be taking out my cakes to cool, decorating both, and finish this whole show up with the taste test.”

Heat had come back from his shopping trip to return all the ready-for-vacation buyer’s remorse items Killer tossed by the door; and also bought the better packaging Killer aggressively requested. In between advertisements on stream, Heat would play guitar and answer messages.

Kid and Killer came back into view as the oven timer went off. Moving in sync, Kid removed his cakes to the island countertop while Killer moved his cakes to countertop to cool. For a few minutes the camera’s focus was scrambled as it was moved for a closer view. The stand was adjusted and the camera was slightly pointed down with an overhead focus of the table and hosts. The camera captured the finest details of both men down to the smallest beauty marks. It was going to make their cakes look all the more amazing for the audience.

“First thing’s first is trimming the cake for any unevenness, and then we’ll spray the outer layer with this bottle of pre-made syrup. This is to help the cake retain its moisture and prevent crumbing during the frosting process. We’re going to apply a thick layer of frosting in between the layers, with a thin coating on the outsides, which will also prevent the cake from crumbing to the surface as you do the finer details. Since we’re going to stack these cakes, we’re going to add some tools to stabilize the structure from falling or jiggling. Some people use plastic or wooden straws, I prefer to use Pirouline cookies.”

Kid followed Killer’s instructions as he sprayed the cake, layered the chocolate frosting, inserted the wafer pipes, and stacked the cake. Four tiers worth. He spread the second chocolate layer with a wide, flattened blade, smoothing out the top with sharp precision. The chocolate frosting looked almost matte on screen.

“Excellent! Now we’re going to set it in the fridge and clean up the tools to start again with my cakes.”

While Killer did the same process for his Death By Chocolate cake, Kid added frosting layers to all the mini taste test cakes.

“Aww those are cute! I bet they’re gonna taste even sweeter,” Heat cooed over Kid’s efforts.

With both cakes cooling and setting, the crew cleaned the area and sat down to talk about recent news, popular media, and listen to Heat play more guitar. It was only for 15 minutes as another ad break ran through. Their top tier subscribers never had to sit through advertisements, which is why they always had to have something going on in the background at all times. When the timer went off, Killer jumped to his feet while Kid dragged his.

After explaining decorating techniques and frosting tip shapes, Killer got to work on his cake. Using blue and purple frosting, Killer piped basket like ropes on the edges of the top cake layer and around the base of each layer; created swirly peaks on the top layer and smaller pressed peaks on the sides of the layers, connecting them together with multiple thin ropes of white frosting. Using the same thin rope tip, Killer wrote out a message on the top.

“Happy Birthday Dearest REDACTED NAME – and for privacy reasons I’ll say just their handle: UnderstatedGrin,” Killer spoke as he finished the design. The camera zoomed to focus on the delicate piped ropes as Killer added silver coated, chocolate orbs to the centers of the pressed peaks with a pair of long, slim decorating tongs.

The camera panned to Kid who’s hairless brows furrowed together, his tongue sticking partially out as he carefully piped the icing with his metal prosthetic and organic hands.

“Argh, I keep making these peaks too tall and wide,” he complained.

“If you rapidly lift the piping bag down to up while you squeeze, you can create a 3D flower effect. Like this,” Killer demonstrated. Kid seemed to like it as he used the technique to pipe the pastel pink frosting everywhere. Even adding little green leaves at the base of each flower.

With a hum, Killer pulled out a bottle of shimmery liquid, “This is a metallic food coloring. It works best on a light base color to make that shine pop,” he explained as he pooled some in a small cup. Dipping a brush into the cup, he skimmed over the white buttercream ropes to make them silver. “We also have it in rose gold.”

“Mhm,” Kid mumbled as he swapped piping tips and colors. He laid down a pattern of puffy lavender cloud trails on the base of the layers. Swapping the bags and color again, he piped flat, dusty magenta colored lettering on one side of the cake on each layer, turning it around for the camera to see. It read: Happy 30th Birthday Raven!

He quickly dipped a clean brush in the rose gold metallic food coloring, coating the tulip flowers he placed on every flat surface he could find, save for where the birthday message sat. Setting the brush aside, he took the flat tip piping bag and created one final design on the top layer, his famed logo – his jolly roger.

Cocky grin on his face, he motioned for Wire to zoom in more for the audience to appreciate the cake. Wire did and followed up with Killer’s cake. The sound of notifications pouring in nearly drowned out the music. As Wire re-set the original camera position, the crew moved about once more. The only fixed person was Kid as he used the flat tip piping back to add one more thing to the back of the cake. With a satisfied nod, he opened the fridge door and with a careful touch, deposited the cake inside the chilled space.

Killer pulled out the extra cake dishes from the freezer, placing them beside the regular cake test samples that he layered with leftover frosting. Handing Kid, Heat, and Wire spoons, he watched them dig in.

Starting with the ice cream cake, “Ohhh it tastes like childhood memories I remember other people having,” Wire sighed.

Heat nodded, “Yeah like the kind you saw in commercials for party rooms, it looked so good! And this is amazing!”

Kid was too busy scarfing down the dessert. Wiping his mouth, “Perfect fudgy layer that acts as a tasty barrier between two flavors. I love it.”

Killer nodded proudly. He grabbed a tray of iced waters to wash their pallets. Observing as they bit into the Death By Chocolate cake.

Heat and Kid’s eyes rolled to the back of their heads, Heat let out a small moan that he quickly snuffed out with a slap of his hand over his face

“It’s Death BY Chocolate not WITH!” Wire howled. Biting a spoonful himself, he had to force back the satisfied groan that rumbled in his chest, the cake made his tummy feel warm and happy.

“This, this might give me a heart attack,” Kid huffed out, draining his water when he finished his cake.

Killer dutifully replenished the waters, “Not the most traditional reviews but I’ll take it. Now, time for Kid’s marbled cake.”

“I coulda made it from scratch,” the redhead grazed his chin. “S’not what was requested so if it’s not the best, that’s on the shitty nostalgic brand she loves.”

“Right, of course,” Killer drawled. “Well on with it then!”

Wire took the first bite, “Oh wow, that’s really well balanced!”

“Yeah, spongy and light, the chocolate frosting ratio is perfect! The buttercream is a nice touch too,” Heat added as he finished off what Wire wasn’t able to snag for himself.

Kid took a deep breath before taking a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, “Yeah, I’m just naturally gifted that way.”

“That’s not a cake review, you narcissist,” Killer crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s…pretty good not gonna lie. Heat’s right, it’s spongy, fluffy, not dry and just the right amount of moist. The chocolate is savory and the perfect addition to a cake this light. The buttercream is pretty sweet too, I like to eat it by itself but it’s also decent with the other components.”

Killer swiped the platter and spoon up, turning around and lifting his helmet a little so he could take a bite. “I knew you could do it, don’t know why you were so worked up. This is perfectly ratioed. I give it a double scythe cross on the KillerCook rating scale!” he gave Kid a thumbs up. A cheerful grin spread on the cake boss’ face. Then it occurred to him—

“YOU WERE THE ONE STALKING AROUND THE KITCHEN IN A GLOOM BECAUSE YOU WERE SO ANXIOUS!”

“Are you still on that? We’ve got the closing segment to do,” Killer clapped his hands.

“Don’t let the fear of dry cake keep you from making cake. Cake is meant to be enjoyed, especially amongst friends. With that in mind, we’ll be taking the Death By Chocolate cake to the post office for overnight delivery and bringing the marbled cake to our birthday girl’s party tonight. Hope you all enjoyed today’s live stream and if you try out my recipes, tag me in your creations or duet me! Tune in next time when I make a delicious, cozy dish that takes some tender love and patience – French Onion Soup. It’s moderately easy to prepare and like everything else I make, slays. This has been Faffaffaffa-Food with Killer.”

End Livestream.

“Ok, the party is in 3 hours. Let’s set the box frame in the backseat to securely transport the cakes. Kid and Heat will bring the chocolate cake to the post office while Wire and I get ready. When you guys come back and get ready, we’ll package Raven’s cake and presents. Take an uber if anyone wants to go home tonight, I’m getting smashed and plugging in the RockBand game until it’s pried from my cold, passed out fingers.”

“I’ll bring the extra guitar and drum set,” Wire offered, moving to find the game controllers.

“She always volunteers her place for sleepovers so no one drunk drives. I bet she even went to Costco for water bottles, headache pills, blankets, and pillows,” Heat laughed, pulling the Death By Chocolate cake into the thermally insulated shipping carrier.

“Yeah she did,” Kid grinned, showing them his phone, “She texted me an hour ago with this pic.” It was a pile of the previously mentioned items plus boxes of frozen pizzas, burritos, bagels, a tub of cream cheese, a crate of champagne, and two cases of Powerade.

Reaching under the countertop to open a drawer, the redhead pulled out a card and envelope. “Don’t forget to sign Raven’s card,” Kid said as he handed them pens. He had already written his message and name, also leaving his present inside – a ticket to their two-week cruise.

Before Killer could say anything—

“This rig better work! If a single buttercream decoration droops on her cake, I will kill everyone in the car and then myself,” the redhead growled as he left the house.

Bonus: The comment section

CheezusCrust: What inspired your passion for cooking? KillerCook: Seeing the people I care about struggle with food insecurity. I made it my mission to always bring them the most nutritional and tasty food I could scrounge up from our neighborhood. It wasn’t always easy but it forced me to get creative. It helped that my main test subject is a human garbage disposal.

Wait_SayThatAgain987: What else can the Cake Boss bake? PunkNeverDied69: I can make a swiss roll😊

A_Hoe_Never_Gets_Cold: Shooting my shot. Scream_Maim_Fire, can I climb you like a tree? Scream_Maim_Fire: You better be fast spider monkey. If I catch you, I’ll throw you like a baseball.

N0$33: What did PunkNeverDied69 write on the back of the cake👀 FlamingHot420: Deez nuts joke probably. Raven thinks they’re funny for some reason. Scream_Maim_Fire: Hieroglyphics of some kind. It looked like: 🔧+⚙️=🔩 KillerCook: His (real) body count. PunkNeverDied69: Screw you all.

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