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#on account of that one took me like 6 months

welcometogrouchland · 10 months

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[ID: an 11 panel comic featuring characters from the owl house. Panel 1- a cloaked Darius sneaking around a wall. panel 2 he peaks around the corner, saying "well? Did you retrieve...the package?". Panel 3 Hettie Cutburn (who has old Hollywood style text announcing "surprise Hettie Cutburn!" next to her) says "Darius! Of course! Took some digging but I found them eventually. Tell the boy I say 'hi!'". Panel four- she hands documents labeled "classified" to Darius. Later, Hunter (post timeskip) walks through a door in Darius' home, saying "hey Darius, hey Eber, I'm ba-". Next panel- Darius, Willow, and Eberwolf on the couch. Hunter says "...willow?", She replies "hey hunter!", he asks "what are you guys doing?

Darius says "oh nothing...except looking at pictures of you as a baby!" Holding up the documents from earlier. We see two pictures of a younger hunter framed like panels- the first is of hunter as a baby/toddler aged hunter freshly sprouted out of the ground with a blanket around him, covered in dirt, while the second one shows a young scout Hunter covered in bandages receiving his sprig plushie. Darius' narration reads "courtesy of Hettie Cutburn- she found the only surviving copy of your early life medical records and gave them to me". Willow says "aww, you were so cute!". The final panel shows Hunter looking embarrassed/stunned as Willow takes a photo of the documents, and Darius says "I'm considering it an early father's day present- so, thank you, Hunter". End ID]

MERRY DADRIUS WEEK!!! Thank you to @sergeantsporks for hosting! There's other prompts I wanna do but they'll probably be late (maybe I'll do them in bulk and upload them on the final day). Til then here's a silly comic!

#the owl house #toh #dadrius week #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #won't tag eber and willow cause they're barely there #also i realize that op isn't really a fan of hubtlow i. literally forgot while making this the brainrot was so strong #it's not explicitly romantic though so hopefully it's not obtrusive. i know ships are allowed but i don't wanna annoy anyone yknow?#anyway this was 90% an excuse to draw baby hunter even though it was 90% me practicing drawing Darius #he's fun to draw! i just struggle w drawing him consistently but like. i do that w/ most characters from illustration to illustration #i finished this right under the wire. executive dysfunction and exams really got my ass #but it's finished now! not perfect but i haven't really made a proper comic since my final piece this year #on account of that one took me like 6 months #i needed comic recovery time 😭#also hope the ID isn't an issue for anyone since it's a bit spartan. i was trying to trim down it's length since a) it's long as fuck #and b) this fandom is- respectfully- whimpy as hell abt image IDs #but anyway yeah! happy dadrius week #and also happy fathers day if you celebrate!#i got my dad 'do androids dream of electric sheep' and he was really happy w/ that :]

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reasonsforhope · 9 months

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do you have any good queer news? I'm a queer person and hearing all the shit thats happening across the world is making me bummed out

I do! All of this is from LGBTQ Nation's excellent good news tag

^Article date: July 6, 2023

"Only two months after its formation, the “No SB 180” initiative had succeeded at making the city of Lawrence, Kansas a sanctuary city for LGBTQ+ people. Last week, in a unanimous vote, Lawrence became the first city in the state to declare itself as such.

Ordinance 9999 bans the city and all of its employees from collecting or releasing information on a person’s “biological sex, either male or female, at birth” and from helping with any investigation, detention, arrest, or surveillance “conducted by a jurisdiction with the authority to enforce Senate Bill 180, as enacted.”"

^Article date: July 28, 2023

"A federal judge has told a group of anti-trans parents to mind their own business after the group filed a lawsuit challenging an Ohio school district’s bathroom policy.

The attempts to meddle do not “pass legal muster,” he wrote in his ruling, saying that the group has no reason to sue.

“Not every contentious debate concerning matters of public importance presents a cognizable federal lawsuit,” Judge Michael Newman wrote, denying their petition to stop the Bethel Local School District’s policy that allows a single transgender middle school student to use the restroom that aligns with her gender identity."

^Article date: August 8, 2023

"The U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), the independent federal agency responsible for administering civilian foreign aid and development assistance, has released its first-ever “LGBTQI+-inclusive” policy since its founding in 1961.

The four-point policy is meant to serve as a blueprint for USAID staff and partners around the world to champion LGBTQ+ and intersex development and the human rights of all queer people through the agency’s work, said Jay Gilliam, USAID’s senior LGBTQI+ coordinator, in a video explaining the policy...

In simpler terms, the U.S. will try to improve diplomatic relationships with other countries by investing in locally-led LGBTQ+-inclusive programs that are shown to positively impact communities in need."

^Article date: August 3, 2023

The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit has ruled in favor of three transgender students who were forbidden by their schools from using bathrooms matching their gender identities. The circuit court upheld a lower court’s preliminary injunction that said the schools have to let trans students use facilities associated with their genders...

The case involves three trans boys in Martinsville, Indiana and Terre Haute, Indiana, who need access to the boys’ room at their middle and high schools...

The court took into account the fact that Title IX bans discrimination on the basis of sex in schools that receive federal money, which is most of them. Citing the 2020 Supreme Court decision in Bostock v. Clayton Co. that found that job discrimination against LGBTQ+ people necessarily takes sex into account and is therefore prohibited under Title VII, the appeals court ruled that the trans boys are likely to succeed in their case and that preventing them from using the correct bathroom while the case works its way through the court system could cause irreparable harm.

^Article date: August 2, 2023

^Article date: June 21, 2023

"A federal judge has ruled on the side of trans rights after a conservative group tried to overturn an Ohio school district’s anti-bullying policy.

The national conservative group Parents Defending Education (PDE) tried to get a preliminary injunction passed on the Olentangy Local School District’s prohibition on misgendering trans students. The policy includes students, teachers, and parents and it applies to out-of-school hours and social media as well."

^Article date: August 2, 2023

There's literally a bunch more I wanted to include, by the way! Tumblr just stopped being able to load them. Going back to add a few more in the reblogs now.

I know it feels like everything is against us right now. But I promise you: that is not true. The bigots and bastards may usually be the ones moving faster (in large part because they suck and don't care about democracy or due process at all),

But in the end, we are going to win. I promise.

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sturniolo-conspiracy · 4 months

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YALL

hear me out

anti-laura conspiracy:

- lack of madi in videos. started after hawaii trip, a trip laura took them on. weird.

- two tours in a year. i believe the boys love them but laura made bank and i'm tired of pretending she didn't

- Laura's christmas tree. why are the triplets on her tree? why not audrey hope or trilly any of her other clients? why *just* the sturniolos?

- she moved them into her house. she had a 16 year old daughter and moved three 17/18 year old boys into the same house, because that's safe and normal for a boss to do with their employees??

- Matt's deleted tiktoks. he posts something and deletes it a few hours later - why? well if a video doesn't stay up, no one makes money off of it.

- speaking of matt's videos, the one he posted today seemed weird - "you'll never find someone like me again", and he said basically, "thank god". bro hasn't been in a relationship in a while, and he dosnt rly post # relatable content, so if it wasn't about a potential gf or situationship, could it possible be about a conversation he and laura had?

- Chris's account getting banned. kid hasn't posted anything in two months and his account disappears. no i don't buy it. i think he knew this was a good way to make sure no one could profit off of his content. i'm not sure what strings he pulled but kid knew about this i promise. (notice how he changed the pfp of his second account last week too???? boyfriend of mine, make it make sense)

- random warehouse clean out? you could chalk it up to the end of the year yadda yadda yadda but i think they cleaned it out because they're not planning to stay there. (they co-own the warehouse with laura and madi - all five names are on the lease/contract) also nick said in a tiktok comment that he put sticky notes in some of the orders, and in the photodump we saw matt helping with shipment - they've never been so hands on before, this is brand new stuff.

- todays video (jan 5th) had a few more mature topics in it. is it possible their previous content got a bit censored?

- i don't like laura lol

EDIT: as of 1-6-24, matt archived all his tiktoks except the one about how he loves autumn. also to clear up any confusion, chris's second account is on instagram, not tiktok. go to their brothers instagram, fakejustincarey, and search his folowing for "christopher". it should come up as christophersturniolo2

EDIT 2: as of 1-6-24, nick archived over 500 of his tiktoks.

EDIT 3: matt's tiktoks are back (1-7-24)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #conspiracy theories #conspiracies #los angeles #influencers #youtubers #zstardigital #shits whack bro

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afeelgoodblog · 8 months

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The Best News of Last Week - August 21, 2023

🌊 - Discover the Ocean's Hidden Gem Deep down in the Pacific

1. Massachusetts passed a millionaire's tax. Now, the revenue is paying for free public school lunches.

Every kid in Massachusetts will get a free lunch, paid for by proceeds from a new state tax on millionaires.

A new 4% tax on the state's wealthiest residents will account for $1 billion of the state's $56 billion fiscal budget for 2024, according to state documents. A portion of those funds will be used to provide all public-school students with free weekday meals, according to State House News Service.

2. Plant-based filter removes up to 99.9% of microplastics from water

Researchers may have found an effective, green way to remove microplastics from our water using readily available plant materials. Their device was found to capture up to 99.9% of a wide variety of microplastics known to pose a health risk to humans.

3. Scientists Find A Whole New Ecosystem Hiding Beneath Earth's Seafloor

youtube

Most recently, aquanauts on board a vessel from the Schmidt Ocean Institute used an underwater robot to turn over slabs of volcanic crust in the deep, dark Pacific. Underneath the seafloor of this well-studied site, the international team of researchers found veins of subsurface fluids swimming with life that has never been seen before.

It's a whole new world we didn't know existed.

4. How solar has exploded in the US in just a year

Solar and storage companies have announced over $100 billion in private sector investments in the US since the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) a year ago, according to a new analysis released today by the Solar Energy Industries Association (SEIA).

Since President Joe Biden signed the IRA in August 2022, 51 solar factories have been announced or expanded in the US.

5. Researchers have identified a new pack of endangered gray wolves in California

A new pack of gray wolves has shown up in California’s Sierra Nevada, several hundred miles away from any other known population of the endangered species, wildlife officials announced Friday.

It’s a discovery to make researchers howl with delight, given that the native species was hunted to extinction in California in the 1920s. Only in the past decade or so have a few gray wolves wandered back into the state from out-of-state packs.

6. Record-Breaking Cleanup: 25,000 Pounds of Trash Removed from Pacific Garbage Patch

Ocean cleanup crews have fished out the most trash ever taken from one of the largest garbage patches in the world.

The Ocean Cleanup, a nonprofit environmental engineering organization, saw its largest extraction earlier this month by removing about 25,000 pounds of trash from the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, Alex Tobin, head of public relations and media for the organization

7. The Inflation Reduction Act Took U.S. Climate Action Global

The U.S. Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) aimed to promote clean energy investments in the U.S. and globally. In its first year, the IRA successfully spurred other nations to develop competitive climate plans.

Clean energy projects in 44 U.S. states driven by the IRA have generated over 170,600 jobs and $278 billion in investments, aligning with Paris Agreement goals.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#blessed #best news of last week #Youtube

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hey-i-am-trying · 2 months

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A supposed ex-admin for the QsmpPOR also spoken up, the admin(they/he/she) also provided some screenshots as evidences, I translated their thread here, and I will also include her screenshots.

"I started as an admin around a week before the Brazilians arrived. At first, when they came in, we were just 3 people and one of them soon couldn't help anymore; It took around a week to add another admin, and a few more days for another one.

No, we were not (AND STILL NOT BEING) paid, at least the brazilian team and the BR supervisor too, it is 100% voluntary work

No contract was offered, just confidentiality. They NEVER sent a document to be signed.

It was a lot at the beginning, following lives and posting updates, translating the content of the threads to post the translations, editing clips. It took months for the team to reach 6 people and even then the schedules were complicated because only one person could take care of TazerCraft In fact, on the first day, it was me and another an admin who translated Richas' signs, the account was being used by one of the supervisors while they asked for translation

Anyway, I obviously got exhausted after a while. I really wanted to leave, but taking care of such an important project prevented me from really taking action and ask [to leave the project]

In the end I didn't even need it, they took me out because apparently I slowed down

When I left it was the first time I was offered something, Quackity merch. I accepted, but they never took the matter forward

One of the people who was a supervisor was Lala. Supervisors have a much heavier job than the administrators themselves. Like me and the others, she received nothing.

I even understand that we don't get paid, but a lot was required and I was super sad to know that not even the poor supervisors were paid.

To this day, the QsmpPOR team is small because they reject most of the forms sent. If there are 10 people it's a lot

They were very negligent with the [QsmpPOR] team's opinions and almost never listened to our advice.

Thank you very much for all your support, genuinely

I ended up spending late nights even though I had class the next day just to do something about the project, I mentally exhausted myself for months and was always scared to death of bringing up the subject

Support the admins, please"

Link of the thread

#qsmp #qsmp admins

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hsficrecommendation · 6 months

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Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic recommendation #fic rec #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles concept

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sserajeans · 10 months

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i'm a chef

kang haerin x fem! reader

synopsis: minji left haerin and y/n (mostly y/n) in charge of food for the group's mini new year celebration, and y/n just wanted to give her girlfriend a chance to redeem herself.

others + genre: fluff, established relationship that the members know about, 6th member reader, y/n kinda the designated chef of newji, like shes so good she puts hanni to shame

notes: requested!, kinda proof read, hope this was what you had in mind!!

"and don't burn the dorm down!"

you sighed. you liked the idea of being alone with haerin for a while. she was always more open that way, but having to cook a meal for all 6 of you alone while she sits and looks pretty for your moral support? the rest of the members went out for last minute shopping and cake-buying, leaving you and haerin to prepare dinner.

despite being together for almost a year now (yes you got together predebut), you've never found yourself in a cooking situation with haerin. you preferred working with hanni, not that your girlfriend minded anyways, she avoided kitchen duty with her life.

but haerin's cooking can't be that bad.... right?

"unnie said you can fry eggs at best." haerin shot a glare your way while rinsing the vegetables you picked out from the dorm's fridge.

"okay sorry! you can't blame me though... you don't help me out when i cook." you held your hands up in the air as you kneeled to pick out the raw chicken from the freezer.

"you make me sound like a bad girlfriend..." the cat-eyed girl muttered, turning the sink's faucet off once the bowl of vegetables was full of water.

you chuckled and crept up behind her, whispering "well you're helping me now, aren't you?" as you reached for the kitchen knife in the drawer beside her. a light blush grew on her face from the proximity as well.

"besides, you always seem to have bathroom troubles whenever i ask for help."

the side comment sent haerin and you bursting into laughter. she left the bowl of dry and now-rinsed vegetables beside you as instructed. you refused to let her help with the chopping in fear she'd get hurt, especially since she wasn't used to preparing the dish you were making.

"anything else you need me to do?"

"can you preheat the oven? there should be instructions on my phone."

she nodded and skipped to the living room where you left your phone charging by the tv set. after spending a solid minute staring at your lockscreen (a photo of her that you took from a night walk when you guys were filming in spain), she typed in your password and briefly read the instructions before placing it back down.

after turning knobs on the oven that haerin hoped were the right ones, she sat on one of the countertop's chairs and pulled out her phone, taking what seemed like a million candid photos of you chopping vegetables.

"hey i didn't know paparazzi made it in the dorms!" you looked up with a wide smile after chopping the the last potato. you playfully reached over to cover her camera, by which she fought back by leaning over side to side as quick as she could.

the little chasing game had the couple giggling endlessly before you got tired and gave up, muttering a "you win". you walked around the counter and leaned on haerin's back, head on her right shoulder and arms loosely wrapped around her waist.

you watched intently as your girlfriend opened twitter with the group account.

"yah don't post the video....." haerin began giggling again, pretending to not have heard you as she began composing a caption on the tweet.

"baby please omg..." you faced her side profile as she still seemed like she wasn't going to budge. "please i can't have tokkis thinking i'm a loser.."

your plead turned only into a caption idea as she began typing "BREAKING NEWS: our cool y/n is a loser" on the tweet.

"baby that's so funny.... haha you know what else is funny? you picking the films.... for our movie nights next month haha.... ha.." your arms' grip around her waist grew tighter as you began showering her whole head, and i mean, whole head with kisses in between your sentences.

haerin was now laughing uncontrollably, typing the "#해린 #YN #뉴진스" tags on the tweet and attaching the video she just took. in between laughter, she managed to let out a "sorry pretty... it was too funny not to share."

you stumbled over to the couch and threw yourself on it face first, mumbling about how your cool girl image was over and that you'll never be the same again. this went on for a solid minute before you stood up and walked back to the kitchen, remembering the task your leader left you with in the first place.

"you were able to preheat the oven a while ago right?"

"yeah. the knobs dont go all the way to 600 though so i just left it at the highest possible."

"....600?"

"like the instructions?"

well fuck.

you ran back to your now fully charged phone, unlocking it quickly and reading through the instructions. after confirming the information, you ran back to the oven and twisted the knob to 250, like how it should've been.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you slowly walked back to your confused girlfriend. "rinnie... it didn't even say 600 it said 60."

haerin looked at you with a mix of amusement, remorse, and shock. "oh...."

you rolled your eyes playfully before leaning over and kissing her cheek. "yeah. oh."

the two of you shared another couple of minutes laughing at what just happened, and how you both almost actually burned the dorm down. she leaned her head on your shoulder as you fiddled with the ends of her hair, slowly dropping another kiss on her forehead.

"you're never going near the stove and oven again."

"i'm not saying i'm not complaining, but... yeah i'm not complaining."

later that night hyein bursted through the dorms asking why "haeyn" was trending all over twitter. haerin giggled while you read through tweets under the tag, coming across the follow up tweet you didn't see haerin post as well.

#newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #kang haerin imagines #kang haerin x reader #haerin imagines #haerin x reader #newjeans fanfic

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jaegeraether · 5 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 20)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (20)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN had just received an email from the company she now worked for, Lumos. She tried to research the company and the first thing that popped up was a popular charity, followed by several other companies sharing the same name. Eventually she found her company which had nothing beyond a basic internet site and new social media accounts, so she knew they were being honest when they said they were brand new and starting up.

The salary they’d offered her was already high, with the promise of increase based on performance, both hers and Lumos’. The amount of money they were putting into the business and expenses were also much higher than she expected. Someone really wanted this to work.

She looked over at Lucy who was making her own sandcastles and smiled. Once the email had come through, Lucy had insisted she read it and took her time to mull it over. YFN loved that she was doing anything she could to let her make a future in the country, and especially around her profession. That was her Lucy. Always three steps ahead.

She took her phone out to film a little snippet of her as she made her giant sandcastle. She couldn’t help the smile on her face looking at how happy she was. Lucy’s big kid was shining through. She looked up and saw YFN filming her and grinned, gesturing to her sandcastle as if to show it off. YFN ended the video and put it away, looking at Lucy sitting in the sand, a leg either side of her creation. She was wearing black shorts, her whole body tanned from Spain, abs shining with the sunscreen YFN put on her, regardless of the clouds. Her heart felt full just watching her.

“Admiring the view?” Lucy grinned.

YFN felt her face reddening, though she didn’t know why. She wasn’t ashamed to look. She nodded, pressing her lips together to hide a cheeky smile.

“Can you send me that video, little one?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She sent the video and went back to the email on her laptop. The email was promising, and she found herself excited at everything she read.

Her phone rang and she looked at the number, Lumos. She answered it, putting it on speaker, knowing Lucy would be interested.

“YFN speaking.”

“Hi YFN, it’s Joe, how are you?” She sounded lovely, like a mum.

“Hi Joe, lovely to hear from you again. I’m great, just at the beach soaking in all of the sunshine the UK has to offer.”

She laughed. “I dare say it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to in Australia. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“No, not at all. I was expecting this today, I’m free to chat.” She smiled at Lucy who gave her a supportive thumbs up.

“Excellent. Okay, well I thought we’d just go through the basics of what we’re hoping to accomplish as a company, our goals and along those lines. If you have the email open, we’ll just run through it together. Also, how’s the work Visa coming along?”

“Perfect, I have it open now. I’ve also spoken to my Visa agent and he’s confident they’ll have it approved by tonight. They’re happy with the contract and 6-month minimum guarantee that you’ve sent through.”

“Outstanding, that’s what we want to hear! Just send that through as soon as you receive it, or if you need any other information. Fingers crossed! Okay, let’s get started. So firstly, as you know, I’ve wanted to start this company for quite a period of time. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances in and around the industry, and we’re not seeing the movement in female football that we’ve wanted, so Lumos is a plan to change that. Now, the World Cup has been brilliant for progress, and we plan to latch onto that and keep the momentum building. Over the past year and especially the past few months, I and my friends in the industry have put our feelers out, gotten some feedback and have established interest by a lot of the players. Now, I understand it will start slow, but we’re willing to put the work in and definitely also put the funding into it.”

Lucy looked impressed, nodding as she was talking.

“That sounds fantastic, Joe..”

“I’m glad you agree! To be quite honest with you, YFN, you’ve been the lynchpin I’ve been looking for. I’ve been looking for someone with your experience and after reading your columns and seeing the interviews you’ve conducted, I’m beyond impressed. The research you put into your work, and the way you speak and ask questions to your interviewee’s are smart, and incredibly respectful. I can see that’s important to you, and it’s very important to me. We shouldn’t be asking the same boring questions, or we’ll get the same media trained answers.”

“Oh I completely agree. I was a bit worried at first that this job would encourage me to ask those simple and sometimes far too personal questions, so I’m really happy to hear you say that because people don’t realise that we can go beyond the norm of interviewing, and still remain just like that. Respectful. Not only that, but players will be more willing to open up, accept interviews, and request us if they’re comfortable around us. They’ll also want to use us to get their messages across and I know that if we do this right, the momentum will build and more players will be using us to fulfil their media duties.”

“Outstanding, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear! We’re so, so lucky that you happened to meet Katie so she could recommend you to us. We’ve been looking for you for quite a while.”

YFN was a little embarrassed, she didn’t know how to accept compliments and blushed. Lucy reached over and squeezed her leg in support. “Thanks Joe, that’s lovely to hear. I hope I can live up to your expectations, and I’m excited to get started! It’s a blank slate which means so much opportunity for the company.”

“100% agree. Any chance you’ve found our website and social media accounts?”

“I did just before you called..”

Joe laughed again. “Of course, you have. Straight into work! Excellent. We’re going to get along so well, I already know it. Our IT guy is Noel, and his contact details are in the email. Right now I’ve asked him to make the accounts all bare minimum, as I imagine you’ll want to create a theme to follow..”

“Yes! Absolutely, so I plan on organising a meeting with the whole team for Monday, I just wanted to make sure you were happy with that first..”

“Yes, please! And just for the future, this is your team, your baby. Anything involving the creation of this, meetings, team logistics, etc, all of that is yours. Obviously I’ll still like to be kept up to date with the progress and the plans, but to be completely fair with you, YFN, I run several businesses so I’m quite busy. This company is still in its start-up stages, so I’ll have much more time for it, and I do have a soft spot, this is always going to be one of my priorities, however I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page with this.”

“That’s perfect, I’ll send you through weekly updates and expenses, planning, coverage and everything we change or create along the way. I appreciate the honesty and the communication also, I think until we establish that solid footing, you and I will have to be in a lot of contact to ensure we’re achieving the expected goals, and keeping everything in budget.”

“You don’t know how much this is music to my ears.”

YFN laughed, feeling positive and happy with the plan thus-far. Joe seemed perfect, offering her everything and having the blind faith in her to start up the business almost from the ground, up. “I think we’re starting at a good time, though. We’re catching the start of the seasons, so it gives us time to iron out any issues before the finals for both the WSL and the Conti Cup. A good timeline will be for us to have full coverage by Round 5 on the Conti Cup, and January for WSL, covering both through to the Final. Then we should be fully prepped and running smoothly for the UEFA Women’s Champions League.”

“That’s a very respectable timeline and exactly my thoughts. January will be perfect if we can have full coverage by then.”

“I think it’s achievable, I’ll have a better idea after I research a bit more and talk to the team. I’m sure everyone’s keen to get started! Also, it’ll be quite a heavy work period as we start up, and then when we finally start to get footing, we’ll be expanding to make sure we have the people to cover all games and the email also says you’re hoping for international team and coverage of the other leagues in Europe?”

“Yes,” Joe sounded a litte sheepish. “I know, I know, it’s quite a high expectation, but we’ll get there eventually. Let’s start with the WSL and Continental Cup. Definitely want to be all over the UEFA Women’s Champions League, that’s the first major goal. From there, you and I can talk about expanding to cover Tier 2. Then, depending on the timeline, we want to cover Tier 3 and Tier 4 so we can encourage grassroots and young girls upcoming through the leagues. Then we want Liga F, Serie A, Feminine, etc, also following the national teams, NWSL in the US, A-Leagues in Australia and onwards.”

“Very large goals! That’s great, a lot to look forward to and to aim for. We’ll make sure to split the goals up to feel more achievable for the team, but I think if they know the long-term goal, it’ll make everyone determined and ready to settle down into the job.”

“That’s exactly what we want. The team building and team trust in each other is vital to make this business a success. Anything you need, let me know and we’ll work through it together, that includes extra positions or professionals. I imagine a recruiter may become useful if you become inundated with the logistics.”

YFN nodded, even though she couldn’t see her. She was taking notes eagerly, excited by the conversation as she responded, a little distracted as she typed. “I’ll definitely let you know if we need anything to help us expand..”

“I heard you’re meeting some of the players, also?”

YFN stopped typing and tilted her head. Lucy groaned. She looked over at Lucy who had a frown on her face, gesturing to the phone. “Um… Joe I have Lucy close by who wants to say something I think?”

Joe was aware that YFN was dating Lucy. YFN had made sure she’d told Joe, fearing a conflict of interest, especially with the need to visit Spain. Joe had had the opposite reaction. She thought it was great that YFN was so involved in the industry, knowing that dating Lucy made her closer with the inner circle of football than just being part of a media group. As for Spain, she’d encouraged her to go, offering to pay for flights and knowing that the more she was involved with Barcelona, the easier it would be to expand into Liga F and onwards. She was particularly interested in Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmati as they had so much influence in the sport. Joe’s ambition was multi-faceted, but positive on all fronts. She wanted to encourage the young female footballers of tomorrow, give women strong rolemodels to idolise, and to bring much needed attention to all of women’s football in general, all around the world. Popular footballers like Lucy, Alexia, Aitana, could help expedite their growth and influence.

“Of course! I assumed she was there with you and then Lucy’s post confirmed it.” She laughed.

Lucy’s post? She looked at a now cheeky looking Lucy as she passed her the phone and stole Lucy’s to check on said “post”. She’d posted the video of her building sandcastles on the beach and grinning at the camera, but more importantly, she’d posted a selfie Lucy had taken of the two of them, YFN sat in-between her legs and being pulled back by Lucy who was kissing her cheek as she smiled. Her mouth dropped open. Hard launch. She looked at the caption.

“Happy place with my happy little Australian” *red heart*

She’d tagged her and YFN looked at the phone in Lucy’s hand, unsure how it hadn’t blown up from all of the notifications it must have had. Lucy winked at her as she moved next to her, resting her hand on her thigh and stroking her thumb there.

“Hey Joe, it’s Lucy.. funny you should mention that, I actually hadn’t told YFN that just yet..”

“Hi Lucy… oh, I’m sorry! I’d heard a few little whispers from a few friends..”

Lucy laughed. “That’s okay, she had to find out eventually.” She looked at YFN who looked curiously at her gorgeously tanned athlete. She couldn’t help reaching out and playing with a few strands of Lucy’s hair that were wildly playing in the wind. “I might as well tell you both.. YFN said a while ago that one of the first things she’d want to do is to have a get-together with a few players to ask them what they want, their likes and dislikes and to start building those relationships.” YFN’s fingers stroked down the side of Lucy’s face from around her temple, down to her jaw as she watched her speak. Lucy leant into her as she did. “So a few of the girls and I made a few phone calls to get some players together for dinner tonight.”

YFN’s fingers paused on her jaw, her eyes softening and heart filling. How did she get so lucky?

“That’s fantastic! A very strong start to everything! Relationship building is the most important thing for us, we want to build and maintain those special relationships with all of the players, so this dinner tonight is going to be the perfect start for that. I speak for our whole company when I say a big thank you to you, Lucy. This is just… beyond the start I was expecting.”

“You’re welcome, and to be fair, I know a lot of the players are excited for this. As you said, word has been spreading for a while now and heating up in the last few months so we’re all excited to see this come to life. The girls I’ve spoken to have been so under represented and misrepresented for so long that they’re excited for this to happen. YFN’s going to have a lot of work, but I know she’s going be the most amazing asset for you and create magic, like she does with everything else.”

YFN’s hand dropped and she looked at Lucy with an embarrassed but thankful expression. Lucy touched that little dimple, her eyes unable to leave it. She handed the phone back to YFN who was almost crying. So much work. She wondered how busy she would be in 13 days when she needed to head to Spain. Joe was aware of it, of course, and immediately approved, reminding her that she didn’t need her permission.

They spoke for a little while longer, talking about the email and the team members they had. The call ended and YFN folded up her little note taking book, pulling the band over it. Lucy’s mouth on hers was surprising, but not unwelcome. She kissed back eagerly, tilting her head and their tongues meeting. It grew a little bit more desperate as their hands tangled in each other’s hair, and Lucy pulled her on top, straddling her in a sitting position. YFN groaned into her mouth at the feel of Lucy’s body against hers. Then her phone rang again.

She jumped, assuming it was Joe calling back and looked at the phone.

“Nan calling. Baby bro calling.”

“Oh shit, Joe really distracted me.” She answered the phone on loudspeaker, sliding off of Lucy, noticing her confused expression. “Hi Nan, hey bro.”

Lucy understood and settled herself behind YFN, legs either side of her and pulled her back to lean on her body. She pulled a blanket around them.

“Hello!”

“Hey sis.”

They changed to Facetime and it was impossible for them to not see Lucy. YFN’s nan adjusted her glasses to better see and her brother looked surprised and unbelieving.

“Oh shit, you weren’t joking.” He choked.

Lucy laughed. “Hi! It’s nice to finally meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you two.”

“Oh, YFN, she’s stunning.” Her nan said, making her choke out a little of the water she was sipping. Lucy and her brother laughed as she coughed the water out of her lungs.

“It’s not just about looks, nan!”

“No, but it certainly helps, doesn’t it?” She laughed.

YFN could feel Lucy’s whole body vibrating as she laughed behind her. She rolled her eyes knowing that Lucy loved compliments.

“Oh and I saw the photos online, very nice!”

Her nan was far past retired, she was a pensioner who spent most of her time playing games on the iPad YFN had bought her, and looking through Instagram and Facebook she’d installed on there for her. She had no idea how to use them and only had a few friends and followers, but that’s all she needed. After that, Lucy took out her phone and followed them both, making sure it was okay first and warning them about random follows that would ultimately pop up.

They spoke for a while, Lucy immediately loved by both, of course. Everybody loved Lucy. Lucy and her brother clicked surprisingly well, perhaps even better than YFN did with him, though she suspected a part of it was his idolisation of athletes and Lucy was nothing if not an athlete. She felt Lucy’s abs against her back, her strong biceps cradled around her own arms and she held her and laughed with her family like this wasn’t the first time they’d all spoken. God, that woman.

By the end of the phone call, Lucy had already managed to convince them both to come over and watch a game, offering to pay for their flights and accommodation. YFN made a mental note to argue with her about that later, or pay before Lucy could. Somehow she’d even convinced her nan who had always said she was too old for flying, Lucy managing to sweet talk her about first class and how much room and food you got. She was excited at the prospect of seeing them both. She’d seen her nan only a few weeks before, but the distance was cruel. Also, she hadn’t seen her brother in 8 months as he was living in Japan, exploring and doing god knows what.

They ended the phone call after a good period, both agreeing to come and watch England play at some point in the near future. She was excited at the thought of seeing her family soon and wriggled back into Lucy to show her happiness.

When the call disappeared from the screen, she saw the notifications and groaned nervously. She opened the post.

*Lucy Bronze MBE tagged you in a post*

*Caitlin Foord liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Caitlin Foord commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Jordan Nobbs liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Jordan Nobbs commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Alexia Putellas liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ruesha Littlejohn liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Millie Bright liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ridley liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Ridley commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

*Leah Williamson liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Mariona Caldentey liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Katie McCabe liked a post you’re tagged in.*

*Katie McCabe commented on a post you’re tagged in.*

She didn’t finish reading the notifications before she cleared them and put her phone away. She’d look later. Right now, she was with Lucy, and she was more than aware that she only had her for one more day. Lucy hummed her approval and kissed her temple.

“Busy third date, hm?”

“Cute lunch, majestic sandcastle, exciting work call, successful first meeting with my family… I’d call that a brilliant third date.”

Lucy nodded against her. “It’s getting late, little one. We need to go; I want us to get unpacked and showered before we go out for dinner.”

“Okay…”

“What’s on your mind? I can hear you thinking.” Lucy nuzzled behind her ear.

“I was just thinking about how I need to say goodbye to you in a day..”

“Don’t think about that.” She whispered. “Let’s enjoy it.”

“I am. My heart is starting to feel sad already though..” She turned slightly to look at Lucy. “Also, just out of curiosity, are we going to not have sex tonight, or just be quiet so Jordan doesn’t hear us?”

Lucy’s head fell back as she laughed. It was one of YFN’s favourite sounds. “Oh, we’re having sex tonight. As for the noise… I’m going to make sure you’re thinking about it for the next 13 days so… good luck staying quiet.”

#lucy bronze #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze x reader #woso #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

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

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #fc barca #footballer #imagine #barca #gavi x you #footballer imagine

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therhythmafterthesummer · 8 months

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Safe Haven (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: SpaceRebel!Chan x WitchQueen!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy AU | Sci-Fi AU | Royalty AU | Soulmate AU | Slow Burn | Mutual Pining | Angst | Smut | Fluff. Word Count: ~127k | AO3 Synopsis: Being a rebel fighting against a galactic oppressor was no easy feat, but it was something Chan took great pride in. As they took part in a stealth mission, Chan and his friends found themselves stranded on an unknown planet, and meeting a mysterious ally; an ally that, over the course of five long months, will help Chan regain hope.

Series Warnings: Third person POV · Very loose and liberal usage of Star Wars concepts (mostly to refer to weapons and tech). you don’t need to know anything about SW to read this, trust me · Physical descriptions of the main female character such as: can visibly blush, having long hair, and being short · Violence · Swearing · Mature themes and language · Original characters · Graphic smut (later chapters) · Mentions of the members of other groups (later chapters) · No one is straight, beware · Each chapter will include its own individual warnings. Chapters marked as M (Mature) either include highly detailed violence, or smut.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Index: Day 1. | Day 2. | Day 3. | Day 4. | Day 5. | Day 6. | Day 7. | Day 8. | Day 9. | Day 10. | Day 15. | Day 17. | Day 60. | Day 82. | Day 90. | Day 91. | Day 92. | Day 152. | Day 159. | Epilogue.

Post story drabbles/one shots ⤷Available exclusively on AO3. An account is required to read these.

Author’s note: the idea for this monster started while i was watching Obi-Wan Kenobi… one thing led to another and now we’re here. this series is special to me, i fell in love with every single one of the characters and i’m ecstatic about it. i’m really just posting it for the heck of it since this is purely self-indulgent (i literally went mmmm, i need more fantasy AUs, guess i’ll do it myself). English is my second language, so constructive feedback on grammar, pacing, plot, etc is always welcome :) 16/08/2023: i started writing this series sometime in July 2022... then i started to publish each chapter from September 2022 until November 2022. in July 2023, i decided i wanted to re-work it since my writing has developed quite a bit and i felt like i could do a much better job... so i did. i’m genuinely much happier with this version of the story, and i hope that those that read it back then, and those that will read it now get to enjoy it as much as i do (: if you notice any weird formatting/sentences, don’t hesitate to point them out to me! this fic is a monster, and there must be things that i missed for sure hahah

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

#stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #neverendingdreams #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #✨🌙✏

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valaruakars · 1 year

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Let's Get Physical (Part 7)

Viktor/F!Reader || 6.3k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW

Bitches hate you for your overzealous approach to supporting your friends and deeply anxious behavior. Viktor is not bitches.

A/N: Omg. We're here. We're back on our bullshit. Thank you to everyone who beta'd and/or provided me free therapy about this for that past um... seven months. Oops. Thank you to everyone who reached out over the (unintentional) hiatus with encouraging comments and asks. I hope you'll understand why I took so long to handle this with care and unpack some of my own issues. Very cathartic. Would recommend.

Part 1 → Part 2 → Part 3 → Part 4 → Part 5 → Part 5.2 (nsfw) → Part 6 → Part 7 (Ao3 Link)

Before you know it, two weeks and a day have passed. They make no palpable difference.

Except maybe in your quadriceps.

The same weights you’ve been using feel almost effortless, too easy. You don’t fatigue as quickly into heavy breathing and the urge to cheat yourself a rep or two—not lunging with the dumbbell gripped at one of its wide ends, not squatting while it’s clutched close to your chest. It’s suddenly not enough.

Nobody’s around to see it, but progress is progress. Turns out, you’ve finally graduated to heavier weights on this lonely leg day you’ve committed to.

That’s a bit of a misnomer, though. The day is mostly past you now. It’s evening—crisp and wispy, sky like striated fire outside the garage—and as the sun sets, you’re reminded of the late start you’re up against. All because you forgot something.

A good attitude is optional. A scrunchie you can live without. But your shoes? Leave them forgettably kicked off in two different directions on your bedroom floor and you’re fucked. It’s a small miracle you’re here, dragging around weight plates, setting up a barbell. There was a very real danger of tripping and falling into bed—totally by accident, never to get up again—when you drove home and stomped upstairs to grab them.

But whether or not he knows it, likely the latter, Viktor keeps you accountable when no one else can. It’s because the only running you truly love is the risk of seeing him, which still requires proper footwear. And for you to leave the house.

Though by the time you whipped into the driveway and thrust the gear shift into park, it’s empty. He’d left already; you didn’t get to see him off on his reluctant shuffle through the garage. But lucky you—he tends to come straight home after physical therapy. Call it friendly concern that you’re paying attention.

It’s probably an odd way to think about a friend. You need to work on that.

Your phone vibrates dully on the padded bench beside you. Nearly knocking your water over in the process, you grab it to find a text from Jayce—the usual culprit. You slide it open, accidentally brushing the top of the screen with shaky fingers. It catapults you to the beginning of your most recent messages before you can read the new one.

Mon, Oct 10

[Jayce Talis, 5:56am]: Did you leave the back door unlocked last night? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: And the pool lights on? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: Was Viktor in the pool?

[7:32am]: Holy shit. Good morning. [7:33am]: No, no, and why do you think I know these things??

[Jayce Talis, 7:45am]: Sorry, it’s all good. He’s alive.

[7:46am]: ???????

[Jayce Talis, 7:49am]: You guys didn’t hang out after I left?

[7:57am]: Idk if you would consider it that. [8:02am]: But has anyone invited him to cards on Saturday??

[Jayce Talis, 8:17am]: He already said no. [Jayce Talis, 8:18am]: Although… [Jayce Talis, 8:19am]: You could try telling him it’s strip poker. Haha :)

[8:20am]: Blocked. Reported. Banned. NOT DOING THAT.

[Jayce Talis, 8:21am]: No wait! I was kidding. He’s not a creep :(

Tue, Oct 11

[Jayce Talis, 3:38pm]: Wait did you actually block me?

[3:50pm]: Yes.

Sun, Oct 16

[Tayce Jalis, 8:00am]: Can I have my t-shirt back today?

[8:31am]: Oh the really old anime one? I left it with some stuff to be washed, ask Viktor. [8:32am]: Maybe the dryer did you a favor and ate it.

[Tayce Jalis, 8:34am]: Hey! Naruto is timeless.

Today

Tayce Jalis unsent a message

Not fast enough to scroll back down, caught revisiting those unremarkable little messages, and now you’ll never know what Jayce’s butt managed to text you this time. Oh well. Keep your secrets.

You toss your phone down behind you with a leathery slap. Back to working on the whole stop pining after Viktor thing.

Right, and your legs.

The barbell bites into your hips as you roll it into your lap and adjust it, the bench presses into your shoulder blades. It’s heavier and harder to manage, but you do, driving down into your heels to get your ass off the ground, hefting yourself into a nice, solid bridge. From there it’s as easy as dipping your hips, which isn’t quite easy at all. No, it’s brutal.

It burns from your core down to your thighs; has you clenching your jaw, gritting your teeth with the strain. Even your biceps are active, lifting some of the steel-hard pressure off your hip bones.

You’re so zoned in—no thoughts, head empty except for the number six over and over until it’s seven—that you only hear the hiss of your breath in and out, the hammering rush of blood behind your ears. You don’t hear Viktor come home.

Not until he’s standing above you.

He had the heinous metal on metal sound in his old beige car fixed—that grinding, grating death knell in its engine. One of several potentially life threatening reasons the check engine light was always on—maybe still is. And though you much prefer him living, it’s harder to hear him coming over the steady music without paying attention.

Bad timing for Miss Carly Rae Jepsen on your Upbeat Workout Jams playlist, considering you do really, really, really like him. Him and how he stands at the end of the bench, staring down; how he fixes you with that sliver thin smile, a manila folder tucked under the arm of his long cardigan.

You seize with embarrassment, frozen on the upswing of your hips. “Hi,” whispers out on the end of an exhale, caught ragged in your throat.

You can’t do pelvic thrusts in front of him.

You just can’t.

It’s bad enough that you’re sweaty in every skin to skin crevice and certainly flushed, t-shirt sticky and legs trembling as they hold your awkward position, but then there’s him.

He wears that same look much better. On him, it’s healthy color across the cut lines of his cheeks; it’s still-damp curls at the nape of his neck and the jump of his lean throat when he swallows, dry when he must’ve forgotten a water bottle again. It’s suggestive. It’s hot.

And it’s the endorphins that make you feel that way, surely, more than any affinity for men in gray sweatpants that are far more revealing than they must realize.

You clear your throat, finding your own parched voice. “Watch your feet,” you warn, on the side of caution, dropping butt and barbell to the ground with a metallic thud. You let your head drop back against the bench pad, staring up at him with the dazed satisfaction of calling it quits. Only for the moment, of course, as you blindly feel around for your phone to turn the music down.

And good fucking god is what you see unholy. Viktor shifts his weight before you can look away, and the ache in your core redoubles—different, deeper than any lactic acid buildup. Did his pants shrink in the wash or is it really that m—?

Nope! Absolutely not!

You can tread no further with that thought because, really, there’s no such thing as having a platonic appreciation for your friend’s dick. Not when the friend is Viktor.

“You’re not finished yet?” he asks. Innocent. Oblivious to your mental struggle out of the gutter.

Typically you would be by now. Equipment racked, the citrus scent of disinfectant on your hands, picking at innocuous conversation while you walk inside together. How was your day? Did you hear they’re demolishing the old physics building? There’s a guest lecture next month that might interest you.

“About another thirty minutes,” you breathe, “and then I’ll be done. I’m running behind.”

“Ah, interesting. That looks to me more like sitting,” he says, which is terrible enough to earn an eye roll, and snarky enough that your lips wobble and break into an insurmountable smile.

“It’s called resting, thanks. This would go faster if you stopped distracting me,” you huff, muscles loose, lips looser.

The little spark of mirth in his eyes, so bright and awake, makes your stomach clench vice tight. “Mm. There’s no rush,” he shrugs, “but… Rio might enjoy a visit.”

Your smile is skeptical as he pulls the file folder from beneath his arm. “Oh really?” It widens as he starts to fan you from above—chilly in the garage, but you’re still sweating buckets. It’s futile, although he’s sweet to try and help.

He nods, gravely serious, “She told me herself.”

You crane your neck unconsciously to let it cool the sweat that lingers there, sighing as little wisps of loose hair billow feather light and tickle your feverish skin.

He isn’t holding it right, though. His grip is too loose on the edge.

At once, a flurry of white comes raining down on you. It’s instinct that your eyes clamp shut against the onslaught.

“No, no, no,” he hisses as if begging could stop gravity.

It doesn’t, of course.

His papers flutter and scrape across the floor. An unlucky one sticks to the sweat on your scrunched up cheek. He’s quick to dip forward and snatch it back first, the easiest to reach.

You blink off the surprise and snicker, “Oh, how the tables have turned. Who’s the clumsy one now?” Rolling the barbell away over your outstretched legs, there’s nothing in its path to be crumpled beneath the weight.

But Viktor doesn’t answer with a crooked smile or a quiet laugh, no dry wit to be found. His dark, heavy brows furrow and he insists, “No, just—just let me,” while he crouches to the ground, distributing his weight between his cane and the end of the bench.

“It’s okay,” you insist, reaching to gather what’s scattered between you, “I’ve got it. No big deal.”

“To you,” he mutters, snatching two away before you can turn them over. Makes him lose balance. He narrowly catches himself before he can veer face first into your spandex lap,, blunt, bony fingers digging into your thigh at the hem of those skin tight biker shorts. It crushes the papers all the same.

“Top secret nuclear codes?” you tease, drowning his muttered apologies. It sounds stupid and obvious that you’re trying to distract from the fumbling tension when his hand stays put for moments too long. Yours, too, on his shoulder to brace him.

Just until he’s able to sit himself solidly on the ground beside you.

He purses his lips, “My work is with reactor cores, not weapons.”

It’s only been a week since you got an impromptu lecture about nuclear fusion in the kitchen. It’s not like you’d forget so quickly. “I know—”

Impatient, Viktor reaches over your lap, too close for comfort. Whatever you were about to say is struck from your train of thought.

His cardigan drags soft and pilled with wear across your beat up knees. Beneath it, his sweat smells sharp and strangely appealing. It’s fascinating, that draw to something so base and human. It’s unsettling, the way your heart responds like it beats between your legs.

You follow his hand, unabashedly curious, and watch him pick up another overturned paper. Below it, the next sheet is stuck face up to the floor with what you cringe to assume is a drop of your sweat, bleeding the ink of a diagram. Multiple diagrams, actually.

Of stretches.

The familiarity sparks excitement.

By the time he peels up the corner of the page with his fingernail, you’re sure of what you’re looking at. It’s common ground, of a sort; the excuse to end all excuses.

“These are from the physical therapist?”

He sighs, sitting back in an awkward fold of spindly legs. Looks wearier, now, with his shoulders collapsed like the exhaustion of going has finally caught up. “Yes,” he admits, because you’re smart and he’s smart, and any other answer would be an obvious lie.

You’re doing it again—digging your fingers into a soft spot that feels as ripe as it does intrusive. We do not talk about it much, he once said, but it’s hard to stop once you’ve started. You just have to know: “Do you do them?”

His eyes cut down to the papers in his hands. “When time permits.”

“How often does it permit?”

“Occasionally,” says Viktor, which might mean somewhere between rarely and never.

Early mornings, late nights; classes to teach, lab hours to log, projects, papers, and a dissertation that looks done to you, but he laughs bitterly when you suggest it. Still has to find time to eat and shower and sleep, but his eyes are always restless purple and there are wrappers from meal replacement bars scattered around the house, too high calorie for Jayce to be the culprit.

You wonder what will happen when it all catches up with him. Worse, you worry.

Beseechingly, you reach out. Your grip is gentle as you take hold of the printouts at their edge. “Can I see?” you ask, not grabbing or pulling or taking, just there and ready.

His lips form a tight, considering line. “If that is the last of your questions,” he slowly replies. Prickly, but relenting, he lets go before you can ever agree.

So you don’t.

His eyes are on you as you flip through the stack—you can feel it as a strange, shy tension like bated breath, watching and waiting.

Page by page, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Some you’ve even done yourself, but with simple modifications. Hell, bridges are just hip thrusts performed flat on the floor, without the weight. Nothing he’d need help with, which is ideal when you’re not qualified to do anything but make space for him; to emphasize that he’s welcome and wanted, maybe offer up a sweaty-palmed high five if you’re feeling spunky.

You peel your legs off the floor and resituate, tucking them as your turn to face him, direct in every sense. “You could come do these with us on Sunday mornings after we run, before you get started on work. It would make Jayce happy, and Vi has a really funny way of being encouraging—”

He pulls a face—a nose scrunched up, barely concealed, abso-fucking-loutely not sort of scowl.

“Or…” you’re quick to try, “Just with me, when I’m here. It’ll take, what—fifteen? Twenty minutes?”

“It’s a poor use of time,” he says. It’s as avoidant as it is clumsy, with a dismissive edge still dull enough to bruise.

And that’s because: “You stop and talk to me for longer than that sometimes,” you remind him flatly.

He sighs sharply, toying absently with the cane laid across his lap. “That is different.” He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s frustrating that you don’t know how obvious it is.

“Well, what if we could do both at the same time?” you propose. After all, he’s got such a hard-on for efficiency, if that’s what’s stopping him. “I know you’re a good multitasker…”

His jaw works, trapping his thoughts behind imperfect teeth.

“And we probably keep this floor cleaner than the carpet…” you prod, because the silence of a man who can and has talked your ear off is disquieting; because you don’t always know when to stop; because this feels like a negotiation.

“My bedroom suits my purposes just fine,” he says, eventually.

But you never said which carpet. The thought of him sequestered in there, even for this, is fucking depressing. Arguably disgusting when you’ve walked across that rug and felt the grit of dirt, crumbs, and debris that the pattern hides through your socks. And worse: It’s a choice, so why is he making it?

Abruptly, the rubber tipped end of his cane meets like against the rubber tiled floor. He pulls himself up on it with difficulty you can’t ignore, but shakes his head when you move to help. The only thing you do is hand him up the battered stack of papers, tucked back into the folder from which they came, when he stands up fully. You won’t hold them hostage, even if part of you wants to. It wouldn’t keep him from leaving, his back to you such a familiar sight.

You just want to understand, though, if nothing else. To crack him like a cipher.

Softer, you try: “I wouldn’t judge you.” It’s the last, desperate little thing you can think of. They’re like magic words to you.

But the problem is: They don’t work on everyone.

To his credit, his tone isn’t harsh. It’s indifferent, like stating a sterile fact. “This has nothing to do with you,” he says. “I haven’t skipped an appointment recently, and that should be enough.”

Indigence might suit you in those moments you grow a seedling backbone, but it doesn’t suit this. You can’t help it though. His frustration has bled into you, caught like kindling. “Is it?”

“You and I do not share the same sense of priorities,” he replies, but it’s not an answer. Not really.

The urge to turn him upside down and shake him until something definitive comes out is overwhelming—so straightforward until he just… isn’t. “If you’re not going to say yes or no, can’t you just lie and say you’ll think about it?”

He looks you over inscrutably, sitting there in his shadow. “Why would you assume it’s a lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” you huff. But you do. Experience and a certain friend who actually bothers to text you back have given you the answer. “Jayce says you’re stubborn and I’m starting to think he’s right.”

Viktor nods conclusively, but doesn’t care to share what’s going through his head. As evasive as ever when he cares to be, just murmurs,“You should finish this.”

And then, for a reason that is simply beyond you, says: “I will see you later.”

But for once, you’re not sure if you want to.

—

You rap your knuckles against his open door.

Seriously—who were you kidding, thinking for even a second that you wouldn’t be here, doing this?

Yes, it’s well after eight now and you’re pitifully hungry, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave without saying anything. In writing a note or sending a text, you’d simply be spelling out, ‘I’m a coward!’ in far more words. It’s best, you decide, to be polite and mature and just say goodnight despite the awkward taste in your mouth that is very reminiscent of your own foot.

And you get to say it to his back, which should be easy.

But then there’s Rio on his desk like a pissed off paperweight, swimming the foggy side of her holding tank—sorry, prison—without any hope of escape. They’re the angriest, most pathetic wiggles you’ve ever seen. Habitual, given how tongue-smudged and abraded the plastic has become.

“You see?” he says, gesturing to the sound of her scrabbling in his bright rubber kitchen gloves. “It’s just as I said.”

“I think it’s more about you ignoring her.” Rio pauses, slipping down the side. Her little face conveys it perfectly: “Father is cruel? Father is… unyielding? Father hates Rio?”

“No, no… Although, eh, yes, I suppose she does sound like that…” he muses, nodding. “I think she must wonder those things about you, actually.”

Your shoulder hits the door frame, shrugging against it where you lean. “I probably don’t matter much to her.”

There’s a heavy pause, enough for him to breathe in and hold it. Breathe out, softly: “You do.”

And suddenly, you can’t find it in you to leave. Did you ever truly have the will?

The truth is there on your feet—those perpetually mismatched socks. You’d hoped for this, secretly, else you wouldn’t have left your shoes off at the door.

It’s warm when you walk in. A space heater that’s been running too long glows electric orange on the floor near his desk. Makes the smell of churned earth and vinegar cleaner that much stronger. And while the clutter is clearly endemic, it seems the fuzzy, stagnant mugs are not. They’re all gone from his desk and the bedside table, replaced by sticky notes, pill bottles, and an avalanche of papers.

You come up and give Rio’s tiny, clawed foot a high-five through the plastic. “Has she been doing this all night?” you ask, looking over.

Knee on the desk chair for leverage, he’s elbows deep in her tank, rooting those waxen, fake plants back into the substrate with unnatural posture. It’s that stiffness you’ve always noticed—ramrod straight from the mid-spine up. It’s easier to see in profile, in a thin shirt that clings to his back, that there’s nothing visibly forcing it.

“On and off. She tires quickly now,” he says, arranging a broad-leafed plant near her favorite rocky shelter—scrubbed clean, still damp. “When she was younger, it would go on much longer while I did this.”

“How old is she exactly?”

His sigh is almost lost beneath the hum of the space heater. He answers, “Fifteen,” in the soft, subdued way of someone who hates to be reminded.

There’s many things you’re too afraid to ask him. Such hits as: Why did you dig yourself a hole this deep, does Jayce text everyone about you, and would I even stand a chance if things were different? But right now, most of all, it’s how long do geckos live?

You don’t think you’re going to like the answer.

Viktor clears his throat. “She’s very, eh… spritely for her age,” he adds, fondly this time.

You hum a soft sound in agreement, too shaky through the legs to squat down to eye level with her. When you bend your knees to try, you realize you’ll probably never get up again.

He glances over as you straighten up. “You can sit,” he offers without really saying where. It’s obvious, though. The only option—his rumpled bed, never made, with all its mismatched pillows. One has definitely been stolen from the couch, three are yellowed and missing pillowcases which is… ew.

But you’re not going to refuse. You’d like to hold Rio, after all.

You swallow hesitation and tuck yourself onto the end of his mattress, balancing on the firm edge. At least the intrusive thoughts are fleeting. Only briefly do you wonder what he thinks about at night. What he does. What he wants for.

Not you. That’s for sure.

Your elbows lock out where you grip the ridged edge of the bed. The weight of things gone unsaid, of things left unresolved bears down; it prickles warm at the back of your neck and you can’t stand the waiting silence.

“So…” you drawl, letting your voice fill the void.

“Hm?”

“Are you going to hand her to me now, or…?”

“Ah, no, I’m finished,” he says over his shoulder. “She needs to go back in the tank.”

“Then why am I sitting here?”

“Because I have something to ask you.”

Straightforward. Right. You forgot just how terrifying that can be.

“That sounds just as bad as saying we need to talk,” you mutter, heart twisting into a suffocating, arterial knot.

“We do, though,” he says, too literal, too preoccupied with placing Rio back in her clean terrarium to notice your soul leave your body—preemptively abandoning ship.

But he’s merciful, at least. He doesn’t keep you in suspense.

“I just want to understand at what point you developed such a vested interest in, eh… fixing me, I suppose,” he asks, like wondering what the weather will be tomorrow or what the dining hall might serve for lunch. Conversationally. “Did Jayce put you up to this?”

Your eyes narrow in thought. “No…?” you reply. It comes out too shifty as you toy with the serged edge of his blanket. Jayce put you up to something alright, though that hardly matters anymore. But, in a way, does this count? Would Viktor think that this counts?

“A sure answer, please.”

Fuck.

“It’s just that I would lump that in as part of being friends with you—except I’d call it, y’know, caring?” You draw your leg up onto the bed, closer, tucking your foot beneath your thigh. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”

Viktor flips the grate down with a finality that lights your nerves like a beacon to flee. “So he asked you to do what, exactly?”

“Nothing,” you squirm.

He pivots, solidly on two feet. Doesn’t sit down in the desk chair quite yet. “It wouldn’t be the first time for this behavior, and, with you, I’m sure it was not the last. Do you know that he once provided Caitlyn with a written list of topics not to bring up to me?”

You shrug, “He’s a good friend...”

Now you’re staring down the barrel of being just the opposite—of throwing Jayce under the bus.

“What did he ask?” Viktor presses.

And you break. Made brittle by your desire to put him first, of course you do.

“All he wanted was for me to give you a chance, which was pretty reasonable after you called me annoying—” that word comes out with a bite to it you didn’t intend; sensitive, sore, “—but I never told him about that. He’s just… worried about you in his own way, I guess.”

Viktor quietly raises an eyebrow, and that’s all it takes to snap you into fours next. It practically falls out of your mouth: “He keeps texting me to make sure you’re still alive. Sometimes I think he’s joking, but then one time he told me he had a nightmare that you drowned in the pool, so part of me actually thinks he’s being serious.”

“He is.”

“Wait, really—?”

“Is that why you come so often now?”

Wednesday. Friday. Sunday. Monday too, sometimes, if the day before hasn’t left you sufficiently sore enough. The pain means progress. It must.

“Well, no,” you blink, “that’s mainly because I have a lot to work on.”

“Do you?”

You gesture to yourself. All of you. The way your stomach folds and rolls and fucking exists unappealingly beneath your sweatshirt when you slouch—it could be better. The way your thighs pancake out, smushed against the bed—not getting better, but discipline and toning might shape them into something near desirable. “Yeah, obviously.”

He treads lightly. “I… would not say it’s obvious.” But his eyes are cast down as he carefully removes his rubber gloves and discards them in a bucket of cleaning supplies. He’s not rude enough to agree, but you worry, in all those moments you can feel him looking at you, that he’s thinking it. After all, he’s willowy, sharp and elegant in a way you’ll never be. Soft and fleshy. Never quite right.

“And that’s because you’re, what, zero percent body fat?” you sigh, gesturing to him incredulously. “I’m not implying that’s healthy or ideal—honestly, I’d share some if I could—but…” Your hands curl to your chest, clasped tightly in one another when there is no one else to hold them through the indignity of admitting, “I’m the one that needs fixing. Not you.”

He was right, though, when he said it earlier. This isn’t about you. “Where did you come up with that, anyways?” you ask.

The lines on his face, those deep, concerned creases between his brows, spell out what the fuck. You don’t understand what’s so hard about that question—what he can’t figure out, why the confusion lingers in his eyes. “This… This is the second time you’ve offered to help me.”

“I was trying to be supportive. Encouraging, even—that’s also a good word for it.”

“It all feels the same,” he tells you, taking his turn to sigh. “Which is to say patronizing, sometimes.”

And that was not what you intended. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a saint or anything. That’s not entirely it.” You fight the turtle-like urge to retract into your sweatshirt, which would arguably be more stupidly embarrassing than admitting: “I was just looking for… common ground, I guess. Ways to hang out without dragging you out with us.”

“Are we not doing that right now?”

“Sure, but I feel bad about it.” There’s the silvery peek of his computer, buried on the desk. “I’m keeping you from more important things.”

“You’re not,” he says—no, placates, but the disbelieving press of your lips makes him reconsider. “Well, eh, perhaps, but I can manage. I’ve dealt with Heimerdinger’s high expectations and, mm, sadistic deadlines for years. The weekends work well to make up for lost time, and there is all night after this too.”

“You should sleep.”

“I can’t. Not well.”

You give a creaky little bounce—not much of one, no spring to it—to demonstrate: “Maybe because your mattress feels about as hard as sleeping on the ground.”

“One problem of many, yes.”

You count yourself among them, in one way or another. You’ve been leaking these awful insecurities all night.

Is it any wonder that another slips?

“It’s just—the last thing I want is to bother you. Everyone, really, but especially you.”

“Is that because of me?” he asks quietly. “Because of what I said?”

Oh, you’ve carried this around since day one. Let it color his tone and his words and his actions. Let it haunt you trying to reach for others, the freshest nick in a line of scars that was never stitched properly. That’s what you get for letting all those little anxieties run wild with knives in their hands. That’s what you get for forgiving him before he ever asked for it, as if that would make things easier. For you. For him. For everyone.

It hasn’t.

Viktor crosses the three steps between you on bare, nobby feet. His weight dips the bed beside you ever slightly, like he’s hardly there. But he is, by the way his leg bumps your knee, and you scoot over to give him space.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, grasping at some distant thread. They’re as awkward as he is in saying, “I can’t recall what I meant at the time, but it… it wasn’t that. It would’ve been fine if you thought less of me for it, but not of yourself.”

You shake your head. “It’s—don’t worry, it’s not all you,” you say, softening his guilt, perhaps at your own expense. “I have a lot of anxiety, and that’s a long running thing, okay? It’s mostly… me.”

“That’s… good to know. About you, I mean. Not that it’s—it’s good. Just, eh, helpful to know.”

“I guess that’s generally the benefit of being upfront about things,” you shrug as if it comes easy.

“I would prefer that, I think.”

It doesn’t, but the light, fizzy feeling of relief makes you want to try, if only to have more of it. Maybe more of his shy little smiles too. This time with more intention, and less leaky word vomit.

“Okay…” You shift to face him fully, mirroring his posture in leaning back on your hand for support. “Then in no uncertain terms, I want you to know that I’m not trying to fix you.” Been there, done that, got the shitty dunce hat. People don’t change unless they want to. You know that. “I just wish you were kinder to yourself, but that’s on you. So if you ever decide you want better, whatever that means, I’ll be there. Only if you want me to and only on your own terms—no physical activity required.”

“I might want to consider it, you know…” His voice lowers, softer and softer with hesitation, to the point that you find yourself leaning in. Noticing, as he seems to have noticed, that your hands are a hair’s breadth apart. “As a future prospect, if anything. But you have to understand, I don’t enjoy being watched.”

“I get that.”

“Mm, no, I imagine people stare at you for very different reasons,” he mutters. “Not pity. Envy, perhaps.”

“I promise, most people don’t want these thunder thighs,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap them like a used car salesman. These babies can fit so much soul-crushing insecurity, which is a terrible pitch, really. The occasional bouts of self-loathing are not your strongest selling point.

He lets out the strangest bark of a laugh, so dry it’s almost ugly, as if he can read your mind.

But you didn’t mean to derail. “Sorry, continue.”

“Right…” Viktor draws in a long breath, quiet for a moment before he figures out how to word it. “It’s as simple as that I would rather go unseen. It’s very, ah, personal. And painful, sometimes.”

You think of the age old adage: If it hurts, don’t do it. “Um, not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be?”

“So they say,” he nods pensively, eyes ticking over some distant thought, maybe a memory. “It wasn’t like this before. The discomfort wasn’t… serious. That’s how I was able to ignore it for so long.”

“Ignore what?”

Not the brutal slam of the garage door across the house, for one thing. The pictures on the wall must be hanging crooked now.

Viktor sits straighter—if that’s even possible—and calls out: “Jayce?”

Footsteps—softer, distant.

His eyes snap back to yours. “It’s been a week since he’s come home,” he tells you in a quick whisper. “Mm, well, in the evening. He’s here in the morning—”

“To work out at the ass crack of dawn? I know.”

“You were invited?”

“He knows better than to think I’ll get up that early. I saw on his Instagram.”

Footsteps—louder now.

Viktor nods sagely. “Ah, yes, the stories. By my count, he has written, eh, ‘rise and grind’ forty three times since the first of the year.”

“That’s…” Your math isn’t great but, “More than once a week,” you whisper back, on the cusp of giggles as Viktor nods. And then, it hits you. “Wait—”

But the footsteps have stopped.

And instead, there’s Jayce’s stoop-shouldered figure braced in the doorway. He sniffles loudly.

He’s still dressed in the khakis and blue button down he wears to work—rumpled, sleeve cuffs smeared darker. His eyes have that red, raw, burning swell of someone who's tried very hard not to cry, and failed spectacularly.

Viktor finds the words you’re looking for with immediate precision. “Has something happened?” he asks, voice tight, hand tighter on your shoulder as he leans around you to look his roommate over. “Jayce?”

They spend a lot of time apart. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re best friends too.

He swipes at his nose as it runs into the raw little divot above his lip. Beyond sadness, there’s a guilty cast to his dark, hazel eyes, turned down to the floorboards, but you can’t find your voice to tell him that this isn’t what it looks like.

“Are you… injured?” Viktor tries again.

Jayce shakes his head. No.

“Is your mother alright?”

“She’s fine,” he rasps. “Um… Can I just—?” he asks, gesturing weakly to the two of you.

Which you think must translate to: “You want to come sit?”

“Yeah.”

Viktor’s of course comes without apprehension, without judgment. Only with the apparent surprise that he even needed to ask.

But Jayce, in several long legged strides, doesn’t come sit. No, he collapses face first onto the bed behind you, all broad, shaking shoulders and quiet sniffles seeping out from behind his arms. They hide his face and nothing else. Hands curling, clenching into his shirtsleeve, there’s the thick band of a tan line striped across his middle finger.

You turn yourself around, scooching closer, folding up cross-legged to face him.

You’ve never seen him like this—laid so low. A sweat stain blooms dark at the small of his back, up between his shoulder blades, but sweat is sweat and Jayce is Jayce. You reach out to rub his back despite it. “It’s alright…” you whisper. Feels like putting band-aids on a bleeding heart, but it’s all you have.

Soft cotton weave catches the peeling skin of old blisters as you soothe your hand in circles. His shirt leaches the vetiver smell of cologne, but somewhere beneath it, there’s an elegant, cloying perfume still lingers. It’s no secret where he spends most of his time these days.

You meet Viktor’s searching eyes and mouth: Mel.

He nods gravely as if to say he drew the same conclusion.

Say something—that’s your next silent suggestion, canting your head toward Jayce.

But instead, Jayce takes a deep, wet, shuddering breath and asks, muffled into the mattress, “Can… Can we go to Taco Bell?”

“Sure…” you murmur. He could’ve asked you to drive him two states over to bury a body and you would’ve agreed just as thoughtlessly. Anything he needs. “We’ll take you.”

He doesn’t move. Just sniffles at a prompting little scritch to the nape of his neck, where his hair fades out to shadowy, peach-flesh fuzz.

So you ask, “Do you want to go change, and then I can drive us?”

“Can I just have a minute? Please?”

“Why?” demands a perplexed Viktor, still soft spoken. Desperate for an answer that isn’t made of cobbled assumptions; blunt in its pursuit.

And worried. You can tell that he’s worried.

As if you’d been the one to ask, the personification of wet, doleful misery lifts his head and looks up at you. His face is a ruin of dark, clumpy lashes and tear-tracked skin. His lip wobbles, the pressure of withholding little sobs building, building, building. But speaking it aloud makes it real. Speaking it aloud breaks the levee.

“I think we just broke up,” he finally whispers.

And cries face-down for another hour after that.

#arcane #viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #reader insert #arcane x reader #my writing #literally beating tumblr with a stick i've been formatting this for fOURTY FUCKING MINUTES #GOD.#negl crying like a little bitch from the relief of finally posting this #pour one out for heraldeez who has to listen to me #just like jayce fr fr

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ficwriterwastakenalt · 10 months

Note

c!quackity where he is coming back from a night in the casino and he just wants some love from his gf, so he gives her kisses and hickeys along her body…

Left this fandom but this has been in my ask box for like 6 months so (since Jan). (i'm going to start another blog for a new fandom that i enjoy more than i do with the whole DSMP and such)

I also got an ask about why me and @/kitybur (pretty sure this is their ask lmao) don't interact anymore and all I got to say about that is me and Kity have both gone our different ways they moved onto a different fandom (I believe) and so have I. So please be respectful, go show them some love and to whoever (Anon) asked that I hope I answered your question (if you're reading this) OH WAIT... another ask also asked me if I was the person that Kity was talking about in one of their post and all I can say to that one is that I don't follow Kity anymore and I don't go stalking their account so i'm not sure what post you're talking about and if they are oh well nothing I can do about it Kity has her own feelings and opinions.

ANYWAYS ONTO THE STORY (all translations are from google translate so don't get mad)

Hoping to Get Lucky (it's short)

Yn sighed and closed her book before she glanced up at her clock; it seemed like time was passing so slowly because her boyfriend was due to return from his casino around Midnight, but the time now read 3:00 Am. Yn sighed and got to her feet, dropping her book on the couch before heading to their bedroom, where she laid on Quackity's side and turned out the bedside lamp.

Soon after falling asleep, Yn was woken up by kisses on her thighs and then her belly. "Well hello to you too," Yn remarked in a snarky tone as she glared down and saw her boyfriend's ridiculous beanie. "Sorry mi amour, I didn't mean to stay out so long," Quackity said with a pout as he looked up and met Yn's e/c eyes. Yn frowned and crossed her arms.

Quackity said in between kisses, "Mi amor por favour lo siento." Yn simply shrugged and turned her face away from her boyfriend, who then sat up next to her and kissed her cheek, muttering, "Conejita, por favor, lamento no haber querido quedarme fuera tan tarde." Yn then glared at him from the corner of her eye before turning her body completely away from him.

Yn grumbled, "Quackity, please just go to sleep," as Quackity moved his hand up and down her shoulder before bending down and kissing her neck, down over her shoulder, and down to her hand, which he took up and held so he could kiss the back of it. Quackity frowned as he saw his girlfriend close her eyes. He sighed and hugged her, Yn broke the silence, "I bet you were hoping to get lucky, huh." Smiling uncontrollably, Quackity leaned in and gave his girlfriend a quick head kiss "just a little mi amor."

#dsmp x reader #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x y/n #mcyt #mcyt x reader #dsmp x you #quackity x reader #quackity #c!quackity x reader #c!quackity x you #c!quackity #c!quackity x female

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for telling my mom I don't want my older brother moving back in?

People involved: Me (F25), my mom (F55), my older half brother ("Joe", M39), Joe's wife ("Nina", F28)

This situation is way too long and messy to give a full account of, so I'm gonna give the super condensed version. My mom has a lot of health problems and medical debt, and I live with her to help her. We both work 2 jobs to make ends meet and the house is falling apart in some places, but we're barely getting by.

Joe has been living with our grandmother for the last few years, but she's selling her house and moving into an assisted living facility. Joe has known about this for 2 months, and called my mom in tears 2 days before they close on the house asking her for help. Him and Nina have nowhere to put their dog (a rottweiler). Him and Nina have nowhere to put their boat (that they never use and I have no idea why he still has). Him and Nina have nowhere to stay (he had 2 months to find somewhere???)

One of my hard rules when I moved in with my mom is that Joe and Nina not be allowed back in the house for many, many reasons. To name just a few:

Nina is the reason Joe lost his 4 children 6 years ago, and the reason he hasn't done anything to get them back. She failed a drug test while she was pregnant with another man's baby (yes, she cheated on Joe). The baby was taken away as soon as it was born, and she was court ordered to not be around Joe's children until she passed a hair follicle test. Joe brought her around his children. Their bio mom found out and took him to court. Joe lost them. Now he can't even begin the process of getting them back until he and Nina can pass a drug test. Our family has offered to pay for said drug tests, but Nina refuses. She says she doesn't do drugs anymore and could pass it, but she just doesn't want to deal with the kids. Joe is apparently fine with this.

Joe and Nina both have stolen from nearly everyone in our family. They were regularly stealing from my grandmother while they lived with her, all of our aunts and uncles and most of our cousins have cut contact with them because they steal from them at holidays and birthdays.

Nina is lazy as fuck and can't do anything for herself. She lays in bed all day while Joe works 2, sometimes 3 jobs to support their drug habit. She won't cook. She won't clean. If she wants something she SCREAMS for Joe to get it for her.

And probably most importantly: Joe and Nina have stayed here dozens of times before, and it has never ended well. They always say they're only gonna be here a week or 2, but it always turns into months. They always trash the house. They always steal from me and my mom. They always drink and do drugs in our house. Several times I've gotten into physical altercations with Nina when I find her snooping through my room. The last time they were here we found out Joe was prostituting Nina for drugs from our house. We found this out because the cops came looking for them, and told us our house was "a known drug house". When they left, they told the family they left because I was a drug addict who was stealing from THEM.

Now I'll admit: all of this happened years ago, pre 2020. Joe SAYS he and Nina are clean, but I've heard that before. Joe SAYS they just need a month or 2 to find a place to stay, but I've heard that before. Joe SAYS he and Nina are sorry for how they treated us in the past, but I've heard that before.

My mom is a bleeding heart softie and is ready to let Joe come back with open arms, but I put my foot down and told her if he moves in I move out, and she KNOWS he won't help like I do. She tearfully told my brother he can't stay here, and has since been moping about how he's still her son, how she can't believe I'd put her in this position, how no one will give Joe a chance to prove he's changed, etc etc. But I just feel like I HAVE given Joe dozens of chances, and it's not my fault he kept throwing them back in my face. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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csuitebitches · 1 year

Text

How to Build Identity Capital

What is identity capital? Identity capital is essentially investments that we make in ourselves. Things that play a role in defining who you are, such as, your job, degree, the extra-curricular activities you participate in, where you’re from, how you look, speak etc.

Your identity capital is your autobiography.

Identity capital helps you move up in life, and can play a role in getting you to your goals faster too. It’s sort of like you’re very own personal brand that you’re curating.

A very important thing to note- personal growth, including identity capital, does not happen overnight. It will take time and consistent efforts. There is no get rich quick scheme here apart from discipline.

On a personal level it includes:

1. How we speak

2. How we look

3. How we solve problems

4. Our relationships

5. Our hobbies

On a work level it includes:

1. Resumes

2. Degrees

3. Associations

4. Organisations

5. Accomplishments

So how does one do this?

Get a piece of paper and start answering the questions I’ve noted down. You’ll see a summary of the questions as points below.

Hard skill questions:

1. If I had $3 million in bank account and I had to spend 10% of it on charity, which is the first cause that immediately comes to my mind?

2. Do I need money to give back to that cause or can I also give my time?

3. When was the last time I updated my resume? Can I ask someone for a second opinion on how it looks?

4. What is a skill that is important for my job/ potential or future job for at least the next 3 months?

5. Are there any topics or subjects that I’m naturally attracted to that has no direct relevance to my work? (For instance: I’m very interested in women in history)

6. What is one workshop I would love to attend, if everything was at my disposal? (Example: I’d love to go to a chocolate making workshop)

7. What is a hobby that my ideal self would have?

Soft skill questions:

1. When was the last time I spent time quality time with people that mattered to me?

2. Am I interested in learning a new language?

3. When was the last time I took a social media break?

4. What would my bucket list look like right now?

5. What are some short term goals I know I can achieve with effort by the next month?

6. When was the last time I went over my finances? Can I reach out to someone who can guide me better?

7. Is there anything I enjoy collecting?

8. What is a subject I wish I had in school or college?

Notes of hard skill steps:

1. Giving back to a cause that matters to you

2. Keeping your resume updated

3. Learn a new skill and practicing it for a few months

4. Watching one educational video on YouTube/ one podcast such as TED talks a day to improve your knowledge

5. Attending workshops

6. Keeping a gratitude journal

7. Engage in some sort of a creative project or hobby

Soft skill steps:

1. Spending time with people who matter

2. Learning a new language

3. Social media breaks

4. Making a bucket list

5. Making a list of short term goals (Achievable in the next month)

6. Evaluate your finances and set financial goals

7. Start a collection of something you enjoy

8. Take a class in a subject that interests you, even if it doesnt relate to your job or degree

(Source: The Defining Decade by Meg Jay)

https://gentwenty.com/51-ways-to-build-identity-capital/

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powertaco · 5 months

Note

What are your thoughts on WR development overall and your thoughts on WR being developed/made canon in V10?

Ugh I am going to ramble about everything here I can feel it...well you asked for it. I apologize for none of it, and if you all hate me at the end well I don't mind.

Volume 6 and before are pretty much great. They go from kinda at odds to tentative friends, learning to trust, and rely on each other, best friends, pining over one and other and V6 was a loooot of WR for us to feast on.

Afterward I felt like it got sidetracked. There could be various reasons for this (in hindsight I feel like Penny being given a way bigger role so her death could hit harder is to blame for part of this because realistically how long has Ruby known Penny? A month?)

Even if you don't like the ship they're supposed to be canon best friends so I take personal issue with almost all of volume 9.

I think it was sloppy writing that didn't move the story forward, and even though I don't care about Bees I feel like they still got shafted since they basically were forced to confess to move things along, and them doing so made them miss out on the sister/supposed friend and her problems, and only showcased the worst sides of the relationship.

For example Yang let's Ruby scream at Weiss but only moves to do something when Blake gets yelled at. Blake and Ruby still have...less dialogue than Ruby does with Ren I think etc.

Jaune was too present merely because his entire deal took away from Ruby's imo.

I've said it before but frankly Nora falling and learning who she is away from Ren so when she sees him in V10 she's ready for the relationship is far more satisfying to me narratively.

Leave Jaune above ground so he has to deal with the fact that he thinks he failed his friends and they all died and let him learn from that experience instead.

This also doesn't take into account that Jaune's one interesting change in 9 (being old) is taken away via random deaging (although I guess this makes deaging canon and hey young maria this is how dwr can still win! more at 11!)

Generally when characters go through a volume you want some sort of arc for them to go and change through. Weiss gets none of that. Out of all the characters nothing really happens to her, and she doesn't change at all. She's just sad about Atlas. Neat.

There's no time for it just like there's no real time for Ruby.

In Ruby's own words 'gotta help Jaune right?' and they do. Ruby removes herself from the census, which is how its framed, and they stop to...help Jaune.

There are a few moments that are WR'ish in 9. The Nevermore summon, Weiss believing in Ruby, and calling her name first etc, but overall Weiss's main job is to backslide.

I said it before but in the market Neo, the perfect assassin is after Ruby, and they split up. Weiss goes 'gross nosehairs', and ditches her best friend who she already knows by that point is NOT doing well.

This is not Volume 1. This Weiss is not that petty, and she's literally had to manhandle corpses. The fact that she wouldn't stay near her canonical best friend, and leader is asinine, and only happens so she can be alone to meet the smith.

Even if Weiss can't help Ruby fight Neo she's an extra pair of eyes (and Neo doesn't care how crowded it is in the market), and just being there for Ruby can help.

With all that said RWBY is big into symbolism. When WR are together in almost all the side spin off material it means something. Manga Anthologies has them making heart eyes and flirting like every other page. Ice Queendom was a love letter to WhiteRose (precious?). The movies, etc.

When their weapons rest next to each other on screen like the Bees do? It means something. When their flowers break ranks to be near each other (and Weiss's flower is the lily please note)? This means something.

Ruby can stand and jump from missile to missile but has to wrap her arms around Weiss to stay seated?

If Chibi continues it's pattern of predicting things in the main plot then the fact that Weiss is the woodsman in the fairy tale means a loooot as in several versions of that fairy tale the woodsman marries little red after helping her deal with the wolf problem (which varies by the story).

They're the knight and princess for each other. Ruby comes into Weiss's live turns it upside down, and helps her change. Likes her for her genuinely and wants to be her friend at the start. Through this she changes the world for Weiss, and helps her grow, and Weiss in turn helps Ruby be the leader she can be.

But yeah I guess that's just friends things and they should date some guys they've had like a half a dozen lines with instead? I don't get it really.

She and Oscar punch each other in the face, and they talk about strategy. Oscar has a younger kid crush on her, and Ruby is awkward because that's her headmaster in this kids head. Oh right he went in for a hug she ignored. Peak romance.

Jaune and Weiss have almost no interactions, and when he saves her at Haven her response isn't to be like 'omg i love you' it's 'keep doing it i have work to do'. Are they friends now? Sure, but that's about as far as it goes.

It remains that outside of group hugs the only person that's allowed to initiate contact with Weiss almost all the time outside of battle is Ruby.

Ruby knows when she needs help and will guide her away when she needs it, but other people don't' touch Weiss unless she does it first because they know she doesn't like it...except Ruby.

I have tried to look at other relationships for them, and I honestly don't see them as realistic.

Even Penny would need a lot more development to make it work. I get that it's cute and wholesome but they've known each other for again a month, and Penny just defers to Ruby.

Ruby needs a partner and equal not a submissive enabler. That's a relationship you have with a pet, and not a person.

Now if Maria were young and hot that'd be different...

Anyway...

Ruby and Weiss are partners. If they're allowed to have the much needed conversations they never seem to get, ie haven, ever after, Ruby's mom, everything, etc.

Then is it possible? Maybe. If they do go WR I suspect it'll be more hints, and slow ramp up until the final season.

I would expect it either on the eve of the final battle, or literally during it maybe as in Weiss gets feds up with waiting, and decides to do something about it.

More likely at this point is they'll both just end up single with maybe faint hints so fans can imagine what they want for it.

Would I prefer it if it was WR so the team can truly be family? Yes, but I don't even know if we're getting a volume 10 at all to be honest. The fact that it wasn't announced at the last festival, and we get an extended eppy, and then nothing after the last movie?

Not making me feel super confident. I could be wrong though. On many things. Except Young Maria.

#rwby #whiterose #kinda #i still hate volume 9 #so much #taco's rambling hour #thanks for the ask #asks #that you prob regret

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