#I need to do at least a little something besides work/being at home because otherwise my depression/anxiety kinda worsen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suashii · 26 days

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— 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒹 ౨ৎ

miya atsumu x reader. 715 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mentions of injury ﾉ repost!

“is sitting in front of the tv your only plan for the next six weeks?” you ask atsumu as you hand him a plate. the sandwich you made him from lunch is far from gourmet, but he sends you a weak smile in appreciation anyway.

“can’t do much else,” he answers before taking a bite of his food.

“that’s fair.” you plop down on the couch beside him. the cast wrapped around his ankle is keeping his movement pretty limited. “but are you going to spend all your recovery time watching volleyball? seems like it’s just rubbing salt into the wound.”

if someone asked you to describe atsumu in limited words, your first thought would be “career-driven”—so much so that he was willing to ignore the growing pain in his ankle until it was too late to prevent further injury. all it took was one miscalculated landing for him to end up in the hospital and off the court. now that he’s confined to the house, there is a notable difference in his demeanor, the air about him.

“gotta stay sharp,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth, “i can’t play or practice so this is the next best thing.”

you’ve always admired his work ethic, but his unwillingness to relax every once in a while concerns you. even when he’s being forced to take a step back from his job, his mind still finds a way to circle back to work. you never want to see him hurt, out of the game, but you’re glad that he’s finally physically resting.

“i know it sucks, but maybe you really needed this break. even if you didn’t, at the very least, it’s a reminder to be more careful and listen to your body.” you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “i’m sure it’ll feel like no time before you’re back in action.”

the blonde hums in acknowledgment, though, it’s clear that your words do little to console him. the thought of having him home more often leaves you happy despite the circumstances, but is it really worth it if you’re in the presence of only a shell of the man you fell in love with?

your mind wanders to thoughts of how to cheer atsumu up while you wash the dishes from lunch. by the time you’re finished, you’ve come up with an idea that is a sure way to pull your boyfriend out of his slump.

you return to the living room with a pouch of stationery supplies and take a seat on the floor near atsumu’s propped leg. he glances down at you, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes as you uncap one of the colorful sharpies.

“what are you doing?” he questions. looks like something other than volleyball has captured his attention.

“what’s it look like? i’m decorating your cast.”

atsumu huffs out a laugh and shakes his head but his gaze stayed glued to your carefully moving hand as it drags the ink across the cast. he bites his cheek to hold back a laugh at your tongue poking out from between your lips. he can’t quite tell what you’re drawing, but he can confidently say that you’re laser-focused on it.

“all done!” you proudly announce, tossing the pen off to the side. simple doodles and phrases like “world’s best boyfriend” and “japan’s #1 setter” are scattered about the cast encasing the lower half of his leg. you might be biased, but it doesn’t look half bad. “what do you think?”

your act is a childish sentiment, but you can’t help but hope the silly gesture is enough to bring the setter some much needed joy.

atsumu smiles—the first genuine smile he’s worn since receiving the news that he wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season. while he’d much rather be busy at work than restricted to his couch and bed, he has to admit that being able to spend some time with you is the best of this otherwise unfavorable situation. he figures that you had picked up on the shift in his mood and were attempting to lift his spirits. how could he not love it? “looks great. way better than plain white.”

and you smile, too. because when atsumu is happy, you’re happy.

thanks for giving this a read! consider reblogging if u enjoyed :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu drabbles #haikyuu drabbles

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the-xolotl · 4 months

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Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

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⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu #fanfic #writters on tumblr #fandom #domestic fluff #painting #oneshot #lnds #character x reader #romantic #romance #rain

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television-overload · 17 days

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of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 21/34 - eggs benedict

[Read on AO3]

It’s strange, staying with Sheriff Adderly and his wife Ellen during this case in Vermont. If he had his way, he’d be checked into a motel instead of infringing on their hospitality, but he’d been given no choice. They even refused reimbursement for their troubles, which did nothing to lessen the feeling—however true or untrue it was—of him being a burden to them.

Ellen Adderly had pulled out all the stops for their guest, preparing decadent meals on fine china for every meal, claiming she’d have done it whether he was there or not. He has a hard time believing that. He can’t imagine living in such a way every day of his life. He and Scully barely manage to set out real plates to eat on when they order takeout at home, and he certainly doesn’t expect her to have a three course meal set out when he gets back from work. Besides the fact that she’s always at work with him, it’s just not something he thinks is necessary. Is that something she’d want to do? He doesn’t think so.

The routine they have works for them, that’s all that matters.

But after getting a taste of his own personal brand of domesticity, it’s… odd… to see how others do it. He’d never have thought there were so many different ways to balance home life, much less enough that he’d start to form an opinion on them. His parents had been one way—not a particularly healthy relationship—and he and Scully are… well, they’re not really anything besides roommates, but that still counts, in his book.

Whatever they are, he likes it. Far better than this constant fussing, at least.

Mrs. Adderly must notice his discomfort, because at breakfast as she masterfully puts the finishing touches on his eggs benedict, she says “I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you,” and for some reason, that assumption grates on his nerves.

He takes a measured draw from his cup of steaming coffee, swallowing back his immediate retort.

“What makes you say that?” he asks instead. She probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but it still comes off as rude. He has someone to take care of him, thanks very much. Just not exactly in the same way as Mrs. Adderly insists on taking care of her husband… and apparently Mulder too.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen says, realizing her statement had come out somewhat offensive. “I just mean… I didn’t see a wedding band.”

She nods at his left hand sitting atop the table, and he follows her gaze to the bare ring finger.

“Do you have a significant other, Agent Mulder?” she asks.

Significant? Yes. Very. Other? That’s a good descriptor. Single, married, other. Yeah, he’d select other, if this were a multiple choice question. Although he’s pretty sure that’s not what she meant.

“I’ve– um…” he starts, wondering how best to describe his situation to this woman. “I’ve got a wife, actually.” He pulls out the ring on its chain to show her. “It can be dangerous in my line of work to have it on display,” he explains lamely before tucking it back into his shirt.

Ellen smiles. “Ah, well that’s good. Don't miss out on home and family, Mr. Mulder. I imagine with all the things you see, you need that refuge more than most.”

Her words hang in the air, a bit of sage advice from a woman he otherwise has very little in common with. But before he really has a chance to think about what she’s said, Sheriff Adderly makes an appearance, and it’s back to business. Ellen excuses herself to go check on their daughter, leaving the two of them alone to discuss the case.

Mulder remains seated at the table, staring down the sheriff with a knowing look. He’d begun to suspect—and now his suspicions are all but confirmed—that the man had been unfaithful to his wife, and it makes him feel sick. Here this man has it all; a loving wife, a sweet baby that they didn’t have to jump through a million hoops to get, and yet he’s willing to throw it all away for some cheap thrills.

He’ll never understand it.

The man is no more forthcoming about his knowledge of the case than he had been before, so Mulder lets it slide for now. The last thing he wants to do is show all his cards too early and spook him. He gives him just enough to leave him rattled. To let him know that he knows .

He lets the unspoken threat hang between them until the sheriff folds, squirming away to take a shower, or so he says.

He’s still seething in bitter disgust when Ellen returns, carrying her sleepy baby in her arms. It’s a well-practiced juggling act, Mulder can tell, as she goes about fixing herself a plate of her now lukewarm breakfast. With only one arm, she clearly struggles to transfer strips of bacon out of the pan, and Mulder gets to his feet.

“Here, let me help,” he says, joining her in the kitchen. What he’d meant was that he could help assemble her plate, but as he goes to reach for the spatula, he instead finds himself being handed a baby, and his eyes widen comically. “Oh, right,” he says, then plasters a forced smile on his face. Sure, this was what he’d meant to do all along.

The little girl is heavier than he’d expected. Like a sack of flour, though with limbs jutting out everywhere. It takes him a moment to adjust, his hands holding her awkwardly beneath the armpits.

“Hi,” he says conversationally, looking down at her like she’s a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment. The baby just blinks at him, a blank stare on her face. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, lifting her to his hip and returning to the table. He makes every effort to not look like this isn’t the first time he’s held a baby in—well, basically forever, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

Ellen smiles across the table at him and digs into her meal.

“Do you have children, Agent Mulder?” she asks, “You and your wife?”

It still makes his heart flutter to hear someone refer to Scully as such, but he supposes that to Ellen, it really is that simple. Scully is his wife, that’s all she knows.

He’d always thought conversations like this to be so dull. ‘So, Dave, how’s the ol’ ball and chain? Kids staying out of trouble?’ But, now…

Well, it’s different now that he actually has something to contribute to the discussion.

“Yeah, actually, one on the way,” he says, giving a self-conscious little smile.

He’s never told anybody about this other than Skinner, but he supposes there’s no harm in telling this random woman in Vermont. It almost makes him feel… normal. Like he can relate to other people over the simple fact of his impending fatherhood. A shared human experience. A milestone in his life that doesn’t involve aliens, ghosts, ghouls, or any manner of cryptozoological entity.

“We’re adopting,” he further explains. “Only a couple months left till the birth mother’s due date.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ellen exclaims, smiling up at him over her bowl of fresh fruit. “You must be so excited!”

“Very,” he says, looking down at the drooling baby on his lap. “We never really thought it was possible. That we’d ever—”

He pauses, the shrill tone of his cell phone breaking into their conversation.

“Speaking of my wife,” he says, flipping open the device. “Hey, Scully. How’s the stakeout going?”

Her voice crackles over the other side of the line, drawing a genuine smile out of him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, Mulder, so that I can give you the good news I just received.”

His stomach does a flip. “Good news?”

He pictures her nodding, sitting in that grimy, cold room surrounded by surveillance equipment, somehow brightening it with her smile. “Krista called and we had a little chat.”

Mulder looks up at Ellen from across the table, where she’s watching him with a knowing smile. “Oh?” he says.

“Mm-hmm. And you know what she told me?”

Scully is extra cheeky this morning, huh? He misses her horribly. This is the last time he’s letting Skinner split them up for a case. After this, no more. He’s putting his foot down. What are they going to do, fire him?

“What did she tell you?” he asks, turning to instead stare at the floorboards, giving himself the illusion of privacy despite the constant watch of Mrs. Adderly.

“She told me the sex of the baby. Would you like to know?”

His heart thumps in his chest suddenly, its rhythm erratic. This, he hadn’t expected first thing in the morning. He hasn’t even finished his first cup of coffee yet.

“She finally found out?”

“Yeah, Krista said she was a lot more cooperative at this appointment than the last one,” Scully explains.

Mulder freezes.

“She?” he says, his voice raspy with awe. “It’s a girl?”

He hears Scully release a shuddering breath before her voice comes back, with all the telltale signs of happy tears that he’s come to recognize in the last few months.

“It’s a girl,” she confirms.

It’s a girl. He’s gonna have a baby girl.

“That’s– that’s amazing, Scully! That’s… wow!”

“I know,” she says. “I’m– You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “Why would I be disappointed?”

Disappointed is the absolute last thing he’d be feeling right now. Elated is a better word. Maybe a little scared, but he’ll get over it.

“I don’t know, I just thought… You know, you talked about coaching little league, and I’m sure you want someone to watch basketball with you…”

He laughs. He can’t help but laugh. “Just because you don’t like basketball doesn’t mean other girls don’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “And have you seen girls softball teams, Scully? They’re brutal. You try getting hit by one of those giant neon yellow ostrich eggs at 50 miles an hour. I volunteered to practice with the girls once in high school. Almost lost an eye.”

“But what if she doesn’t like sports at all?” Scully asks, and he’d bet good money that she’s chewing on her lip right now, the way she does when she’s worried. “What if she’s on the chess team or plays the violin or the piano?”

Oh, Scully.

“Then I’ll learn all the names of her concertos and cheer her on at every chess tournament,” he answers simply. “Look, Scully, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I are both gigantic nerds. I think we’ll be prepared for whatever she’s interested in when she gets older.”

She . They can finally stop talking about her in abstract terms. A girl. A daughter.

“Your mom’s gonna flip,” he says when she doesn’t respond. Margaret Scully has a grandson, but no granddaughter. He can just see the little plaid dresses, frilly socks, Mary Jane shoes, and giant velvet bows in their future. She’ll be spoiled rotten.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Scully says, sounding wistful.

“Me too,” he agrees. “When I get back, we’re going out shopping again. I think maybe this time I’ll be able to hold it together in the clothes section.”

That earns him a laugh.

“I’m willing to bet it will go the same way as last time,” she teases back, and she’s probably not wrong. Just picturing this baby, a little girl like the one he’s holding now, has him emotionally on edge.

“I– I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he says, glancing up at the clock. “Let the thought of warm baby snuggles keep you from freezing your butt off.”

She sighs, the annoyance of her less than ideal assignment returning. “Thanks for reminding me, ” she intones.

They stay on the line a moment more, waiting to see who will be the one to hang up. Eventually he hears a soft click, and he smiles down at the phone in his hand. Goodbyes have never been necessary between them. Maybe that’s just another way they’re weird, but he likes it.

The baby in his lap gurgles, and he sets his phone on the table to turn his attention back to her. He sees her differently now, with the knowledge that he has a little girl on the way too.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Ellen says, eyes shining as she watches him.

Mulder feels his cheeks beginning to burn. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, really,” she says more insistently. “You seem to care a lot already. And wanting to be involved… Well, that’s everything. Your wife is a very lucky woman.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” he says, and he truly believes it.

He’s the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

~~~

wife guy / girl dad mulder says you get another chapter :)

Chapter 22/34 - pizza boxes

The sound of keyboards clacking fills the dimly-lit room. A greasy bag that once held at least a dozen cheap tacos from the place across town sits atop a stack of empty pizza boxes, not that the inhabitants of this particular abode pay much attention to that kind of thing.

“Hey, here's something weird,” Langly says, looking up from the computer monitor, the unnatural light of it reflecting off his glasses.

“What? Is it Krycek again?” Frohike asks, crossing the short distance to lean over the other man’s shoulder. “What’s that little rat up to now?”

Langly adjusts the bright, warm-toned desk lamp to minimize the glare on the screen.

“No, just something strange in my sweep of government records,” he says.

“Mention of a virus? Shadow government stuff?”

Langly shakes his head. “It flagged a document mentioning Mulder and Scully's names.”

This bit of information piques Byers’ interest from across the room. “What agency? Homeland? DoD?” he asks, joining the other two at Langly’s computer.

“County court in Annapolis, Maryland,” Langly reads off the screen. “Dated December 24, 1999.”

“Open it!” Frohike demands impatiently.

It takes only a few seconds to hack the database, which is a little alarming. What would the public think if they knew how insecure county records are? But that’s a concern for another day.

The document slowly appears on screen, and three pairs of eyes take in the information all at once.

“That's… unexpected,” Byers says.

“Married? Since when?” Frohike exclaims.

Langly looks up at him with a condescending glare and smacks the older man in the stomach. “Since Christmas, idiot, haven't you been paying attention?”

“Not that, stupid,” Frohike says, quick to respond with a slap to the back of the blond man’s shaggy head. “Since when are they an item? Did I miss something?”

“You seen a rock on her finger lately? I haven't,” Langly comments.

“Get Mulder on the phone, that little sneak owes us an explanation!” Frohike snaps, pointing a finger at Byers.

The phone rings a few times before it connects, the voice of their friend coming through on speakerphone.

“Now's not a good time, boys,” he says. There's some kind of noise in the background, someone speaking, but they can’t make out who it is. It doesn’t sound like anyone they know.

“Mulder!” Frohike yells into the phone. “What gives, man?!”

“Yeah, bro, we'd have thrown you a bachelor party if we'd known,” Langly adds.

A sigh crackles through on the other end of the line, and Mulder murmurs something indistinguishable to someone before finding somewhere quieter to talk.

“How'd you find out?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“Your marriage license record came up in one of our regular sweeps. No other threats, by the way,” Byers answers.

“Except maybe Frohike,” Langly jokes. “He might want to challenge you for her hand.”

Byers snickers.

“Shut up! I'm happy for them,” Frohike says, glaring at his friends.

Langly rolls his eyes. “You never stood a chance.”

“There's an explanation for this, I swear, now's just really not a good time,” Mulder says, insistent.

“What's there to explain?” Frohike asks. “You guys fell in love and got married without telling your best friends. No big deal.”

He’s not genuinely trying to guilt trip Mulder, but it does sting a little that they hadn’t said anything to them. Maybe just a little tiny guilt trip. A guilt excursion, if you will.

“It's not… really that simple,” Mulder says, his words hesitant.

“What do you mean?” Byers asks.

“I know you didn't knock her up, obviously, so what more is there?” Langly says, as delicate as a brick to the face.

“Well,” Mulder says, “I kind of did, in a manner of speaking.”

“Scully's pregnant?” Byers asks. This is shocking news. It should be impossible! “But—”

“No, Scully's not pregnant,” Mulder quickly corrects before the conversation can spiral out of control more than it already has. “But… we are expecting, actually. Hopefully.”

“IVF?” Byers asks.

“Not IVF. We tried that last year though, you're a little late to the party.”

Jeez, what haven’t they missed? Maybe the real conspiracy is whatever the heck is going on with Mulder and Scully.

“Then, what—?”

“We're adopting,” he says, interrupting them. They can almost hear his smile over the phone, all goofy and care-free. “There's a woman that selected us to adopt her baby when she’s born, so… I'm actually at this class for new parents with Scully right now. I should probably be getting back. Don't want the teacher to flunk me.”

“Wait wait wait,” Frohike says. “Adopting? How long have you guys been… you know?”

“Well we only started talking about it back in November. It's honestly moving pretty fast, but we're excited.”

“Not that,” Frohike says, waving his hands in the air. “You and Scully!”

“Oh,” Mulder says awkwardly. “Um, we actually aren't. A couple, I mean. If that's what you're asking.”

Frohike’s jaw drops. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“But you're married!” Langly insists.

“A formality.”

“The IVF!”

“Favor for a friend.”

“Yeah, right!” Frohike says with a laugh, sharing a disbelieving look with the other Gunmen.

“You love her, don't you?” Byers asks, sincerity breaking through his friends’ incredulity.

“If you're just gonna harass me, I'm going to hang up.”

Okay, so he’s done sharing for now. They’ll just have to try to get more out of him later.

“Mulder… what are we going to do with you?” Frohike asks, shaking his head.

“Listen, guys, I've got to go. We're learning how to change a diaper and I'd really like to not make a fool of myself, if at all possible.”

“Wait,” Frohike says. “Tell Scully congrats for us. We're happy for you, Mulder.”

“Yeah, we just think you're a complete idiot too,” Langly adds bluntly.

“Thanks, guys. We're really happy. Sorry I haven't been around, it's been crazy.”

Well, now at least they know why Mulder has been missing their poker nights and D&D lately.

“Don't worry about it, Mulder. Just—maybe tell us what's going on next time?” Byers suggests.

Mulder puffs out a laugh. “Sure, next time I marry my partner with the purpose of adopting a child, I'll let you know.”

Frohike points seriously at the phone, despite the fact that Mulder can’t see it. “Watch it, buddy, you're already on thin ice.”

“I'll talk to you guys soon,” Mulder says. “Oh, and if you're ever looking for me, I'm staying at Scully’s apartment now, by the way. I gave up my apartment.”

“Dude…” Langly says. There's something seriously wrong with those two.

“Alright, I gotta go. I'll tell Scully you say hi.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving the three amigos to take in everything they’d just learned.

“Aren't a couple…” Frohike grumbles, repeating his words. “They're a couple of idiots, I'll tell you that.”

Byers nods his agreement, and Langly shrugs.

“Lucky kid, though.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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snnnailmail · 1 year

Note

I see you need some Howdy requests °^°, I am here to provide!

I think it would be cool to see Howdy grow some kind of self-awareness much like wally. Its small stuff first, seeing a small thin crease line up where the sky is and he probably thinks its just his eyes playing tricks on him. Then it would start to derail to seeing the seems of his friends, and feeling that something is isnt quite right no matter how he twists and turns, his body doesnt feel like *his* now, and we're basically here to try to do some damage control because he draws attention to himself (wally side eyeing him heavily)

-🌼

:DDD here’s something like that!! Sorry if I didn’t hit everything,, when I start writing my own visions take over and I forget I’m filling out a request. Anyways,,, I think the concept of walk-around puppets in this universe is horrifying. Here’s my take.

GN! Reader / Ambiguous species

cw: horror and unreality

additional tags: hurt and comfort (you comfort Howdy!)

Also remember my guy has a Transatlantic accent,, so cool so swag. All that time watching Westerns has paid off for me.

<333333333333

When you step into the shop, you’re met with all kinds of pleasantries.

‘Howdy-hey! What’s the news today, sweetheart?’

‘Oh! You’re just in time! I’m having a special on jokes! This ones a kicker! Heard it from Barns himself!’

Not this.

The seven-foot-tall pillar of Home fiddling with his hands like they weren’t his own. If he weren’t your friend it would be grotesquely unprofessional.

“What’s got you down, Howdy?”

You tried to approach this like it was just another bit. Like he was going to announce that someone had picked up the wrong order and he’d send you on a quest around town to find the oblivious culprit. Hilarity ensued.

The look on his face told you otherwise.

No script this time. Just terror.

He shook his head, like some sort of thought was trying to come loose that he just couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh, ah, nothing to bother about. I just got a late shipment to fuss over… right before closing time, too! A shame. I’ll be getting home late tonight. Good thing my home is upstairs, ey? Haha!”

The change in demeanor was relieving, but you were still uncomfortable.

“Oh… I’ll give you a hand, in that case!”

Two hands found his cheeks, one flipped towards you bashfully. “That’s so sweet… you think I need six hands to get around here? By all means!”

You grinned, forgetting whatever your reason was for stopping by. You stepped behind the counter.

But then you paused. It hit you, that you had never been back here before. No one has.

Howdy looked at you happily, blankly. “Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He headed towards the back. You took a second to confirm with yourself that neither of you were going to elaborate. At least not yet, you think. You followed him.

He did indeed have a shipment. All kinds of inventory. Fruit, snacks, cleaning supplies.

“Our little town sure goes through a lot.”

He was beside you with all four hands on his hips.

It was silent for a moment.

“Who brings you these?”

Howdy laughed with closed eyes. “That… I would love to know.”

The two of you worked quietly. Whether occupied with stocking, or just processing the events prior, you didn’t know. You didn’t mind the silence, but the air was heavy. Like there was something you two should have been acknowledging, but it was lost, or hiding.

You decided to stick around and help him close. Putting up food and taking apart warmers, mostly.

“I can’t believe you do all this by yourself every night.”

“All in a day’s work! ‘Sides, being busy ain’t too bad.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It feels good to be good for something. Even here.”

The silence was back, but now you were looking at him.

“Less time to think, right?”

Howdy’s eyes widened, like the notion had been ready to jump off his head the whole time, and he couldn’t believe you put it in the air like that. And then his eyes sank in relief, because you felt it too.

“Don’t be shy to come around when you need to quit all that thinking. There’s plenty here to keep you busy.”

“I will.”

Work resumed, putting everything in its place.

“Be careful, darlin’.” He said, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You too.”

And he laughed, and you didn’t like that.

When all was said and done the two of you looked at the pristine store with some sort of pride, muddled by grief that you weren’t even contemplating before you stepped in. Hazy orange shadows coated the walls and floor.

“How about you stay the night? Wouldn’t want you out and about in the dark.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

But this wasn’t a sleepover of games and stories and staying up past bedtimes. You just needed to be there, and be real. As real as you could get.

Howdy was gazing out the window of his bedroom.

“Funny how dark it gets out there. You would think… I’m not so sure, actually.”

You scooted over to confirm. His window might as well have been a pitch black rectangle. You could just barely make out the outline of Home and their kind eyes.

You closed the curtain.

The two of you settled down for the night. Howdy’s sleeping routine involved spreading out a blanket and rolling himself up in it like a cocoon, or a burrito, and that was kind of funny. You laid right beside him and kept your eyes glued to the ceiling. A night light glowed softly to the side, shaped like a butterfly. A gift, probably.

Howdy didn’t have many qualms sleeping. He worked too hard for his mind to stay wired through the night.

But you sure made it easier, he thought. He imagined the hours rolling by a lot differently if he was alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of scary things, like the sky. The pitch black sky. Like a sheet had been thrown over the entire expanse of home. Everyone knew what the moon was. Where was it?

You shifted beside him, and his train of thought pushed the breaks, coming to a gentle stop.

Wally approached you the next day, casually, as you were tending to some plants.

“Hi, you. What were you up to last night, neighbor?”

You gave him an odd look, but you were used to nosy neighbors at this point.

“Oh, with Howdy! I had no idea I hung out till dark, so we had a sleepover.”

Wally hummed. “That’s sweet.” And walked away. You let out a breath of air when he was out of earshot.

You’ve been paying more attention to your caterpillar friend since then.

He’s been distant. On the occasion he leaves the shop, he’s always glancing around like someone was going to leap out of the bushes and tell him he’s been duped.

He’s always been suave, persuasive. A cool cat or whatever. With so many arms and hands and fingers you can easily spot the anxiety creeping into his form. Your friends noticed, too. Wally seemed especially worried. Poor guy.

You were at the shop one day, just visiting, checking up. Howdy’s demeanor was… upsetting. He kept all his hands in a ball, fidgeting.

It was well past closing and a little yellow figure was passing by the doors. Howdy ushered you to the back. You went along, albeit slightly alarmed.

“You good?”

Howdy rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah— you bet, you bet. Just don’t want any last-minute customers. Love em’, but they’re a pain to clean up after.”

You weren’t convinced. You looked back towards the entrance, but Howdy had taken your hands.

“Just tell me something.”

Unexpected, but this is the most you’ve gotten out of him about the whole conundrum in a while. You nodded.

“Alright. Now this will sound strange, but I need you to put your hands on my hands. Just feel em’.”

His two lower arms raised towards you, and Howdy was your friend and frankly you didn’t care about how strange it sounded, so you reached out and intertwined your fingers. Gave them a squeeze. Just like everyone else, they were soft and cushiony. If you pinched hard enough you could feel your fingers on both sides, but that would hurt. You looked back up.

“Okay.” He replaced those with his upper set of arms. Not having second thoughts, you took those as well.

And paused.

Solid. Completely. You could almost say they were warm. You looked up at him in alarm, still holding his hands, squeezing them, like if you held them long enough they would go back to being normal and you two could laugh about this, but you knew that wasn’t a possibility. Your thumb was on his wrist. It was beating, flowing.

“There is something terribly wrong with me.”

#howdy pillar x reader #howdy pillar x you #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you #howdy pillar #welcome home x y/n #howdy pillar x y/n

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antvnger · 2 months

Text

((Disclaimer: I really don't know how prisons function in terms of medication and accommodations, but I don't really hear good things so that's where part of this is coming from.

Also, as per usual, I went overboard LOOOOL. Enjoy!

This is a very good question, and I think the answer to the first and second questions comes down to the recognition of such an integral person in the Stark household: Jarvis.

Oh yes, Jarvis is 100% still around in this AU, and why not? For the Stark home would run more amuck without him than it already was. While Charlie was away for work purposes, and Maria had all of her engagements and responsibilities as a Stark woman, the boys were in the care of Jarvis (and a nanny here and there but mainly Jarvis). And Jarvis learned very quickly that these two boys would not be ready on time for anything without a guiding hand to help them.

While Tony is more like his mother, he did inherit quite a few things from his father besides the last name, and one of those things was the enjoyment of little rebellions against Grandpa Howard Stark. The other was being naturally fashionably late. Which also became a little rebellion of sorts. Howard Stark was a stickler for being on time. Charlie was not. Howard was the “five minutes early is still late” kind of guy, and Charlie was the “five minutes late is still on time” kind of guy. Now if it was something pertaining to his wife, his kids, or something he enjoyed - things he deemed important - Charlie would move heaven and earth to be on time. Otherwise, Charlie was fashionably late by nature. Tony is also fashionably late by nature, unless he deems it of the utmost importance to be there on time.

Scott is not a fashionably late by nature kind of guy. He prefers to be on time when he can be, but he’s more of the “stumbling in or rushing in late while somehow managing to hold it all together” type. That’s mainly due to his ADHD. He’ll think of at least ten different things he needs to do before he leaves to go somewhere which will only take a second to do but in reality take ten minutes per thing. And each thing could potentially lead to at least two more things that he’s reminded of. This is also assuming he’s having a good day with his ADHD, and he didn’t forget he needed to leave in the first place. If he has to go somewhere he doesn’t care to go at all, well, it’s extra easy to give into those ADHD tendencies, if you know what I mean.

That’s where Jarvis comes in. Jarvis keeps the boys in line and on time. He is British, of course, so you can imagine how he prefers things in tip top shape. On an average day, Scott is easier to get out the door first because he prefers to be on time to things. Jarvis sometimes has to put more effort into getting Tony out the door unless Scott’s having a bad ADHD day. But since Jarvis was in charge of making sure Scott took his meds for a long time, that wasn’t a big issue.

As they got older though, these behaviors didn’t change; they just became more cemented.

For Tony, inheriting the Stark empire at such a young age and falling into Stane’s wicked grasp in the process further cemented Tony’s choice in what he deemed important. Fashionably late by nature also became fashionably late by choice. A statement. Anyone who understood him only had to pay attention to when he arrived at an event to see what he valued most. And as time carried on, how much he drank at said event to numb himself to the negative feelings pooling in his belly but that’s neither here nor there.

Then Afghanistan happened, and a lot of Tony’s choices were taken away from him, including when he showed up to the beck and call of his captors. If they summoned him, and he didn’t answer in a timely manner, they’d drag him out and teach him better time management. He quickly learned that to stay ahead of this game, fashionably late was not an option. It took him a long time after the fact to not let himself give into the panic that would swell in his chest when he had somewhere to be he didn’t want to be. Fear was a teaching tool too many people in his life liked to use, and he refused to bow to it in this part of his life too.

After he was rescued, fashionably late became a reminder that he is still human, still him, and he has the gift of choice.

For Scott, the struggle to be on time despite his ADHD tendencies became more apparent after losing his parents, losing Jarvis, and losing Tony to Stane and Stark Industries. Basically his whole support system. College was tough, not because of the classes but being on time. Once Maggie came into the picture, she helped him stay ahead of the game because was a woman of precision, and she helped him remember to take his meds. She was patient and understanding about all of that.

Prison was exceptionally challenging to him and his ADHD. The prison didn’t really care if he ran out of meds or not. The meds didn’t keep him alive, so they weren't a medical priority, even for a Stark. There were a few medical staff who liked him well enough to remember his meds for him when he ran out, so at least there was that. But he couldn’t keep them on his person or in his cell because others would steal them, and that fact caused its own problems. The prison didn’t really care if he was late to meals or curfew or fill in the blank either. You’re late? Tough luck, there’s consequences. He was on his own. Until Luis came into the picture as his celly and saw how Scotty without his meds really was. Luis helped keep him in line to go eat or to be back in the cell for lights out and things of that nature.

Once he was out of prison, it took a long time for Scott to break out of the mindset that if he wasn’t on time something bad would happen to him. Panic kept him on time but exhausted, and he hated feeling afraid of consequences that his anxious mind would fabricate. He never wanted to feel like that again.

After prison, rushing in and holding it all together somehow became a reminder that he was trying, he was doing better, and he was improving all the time. And if he didn’t get it right, that’s okay because he’s still human, and grace is a gift he would give when it was needed, including to himself.)) @loki-notazombie

#for the ant mun #ant mun #loki notazombie #scott lang #ant-man #tony stark #iron man #blood brothers #blood brothers au #the stark boys #jarvis #luis #maggie #stane #stark industries #tw prison #adhd #fashionably late

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prettywordsyouleft · 2 years

Text

You Have Me

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: fluff / friends to lovers

Warnings: none

Word count: 1905

A set of arms slipped around Jinyoung’s sides, making his eyes widen as he looked down to watch hands link together over his waist. He blinked, registering the warmth of the body connected to said arms now snuggling into his back, a nose pressing into the nape of his neck, nuzzling softly.

This had to be a dream.

“I just need a moment,” a mumble came from somewhere embedded in his shoulder blade, and yet he knew it was your voice that accompanied your hands around him now.

This suddenly was a delicious dream. One he didn’t want to ever wake up from.

“How long is a moment?” he asked, attempting and failing to sound teasing in his question. His voice sounded hoarse, too strained. Jinyoung was relieved that at least his body had lost its rigidness immediately, relaxing into your hold on him. He tried to look back outside at the birthday party you both had been invited to, but he was struggling to stop his senses from slipping to you.

You tightened your grip. “Well, it’s longer than a minute.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, turning your head, so your cheek rested against his back. “A moment is rather immeasurable at times.”

“And you need this moment to remain immeasurable?”

“Perhaps.”

“Any particular reason that you need this moment pressed into my back, Y/N?”

You sighed. Or maybe you breathed him in. He couldn’t quite tell. Jinyoung felt giddy, on the edge of something big. Something life-changing. He just hoped that when he took the fall, you remained beside him for it.

Or at least, still nestled into his back in comfort.

“Well, don’t tell the birthday boy, but between you both, your back looks more inviting than Mark’s.”

Jinyoung’s mood dampened. He didn’t want to be a better option. He wanted to be the only one you’d turn to.

“Huh,” he said, hoping his disappointment wasn’t as tangible as it felt. “Guess the gym has helped with that.”

“Maybe I should join the gym,” you commented mindlessly, and Jinyoung clamped his eyes shut, trying to stop the flashes of you working out from cementing into his brain. He couldn’t let the idea exist for more than a second. Otherwise, he’d be convincing you to join, and no doubt getting injured by being completely distracted whenever he saw you.

“Why?”

“So you can return the back hug favour!”

“Do you need a good, strong back for such a hug?” he mused, and you squeezed his middle a little.

“I don’t have a flimsy one.”

“Let me see,” he asked, whirling around in your embrace, stopping when your gaze collided with his. His eyes widened a second time, a thumb coming up to caress the now dried skin under your red eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He gestured with his free hand to your expression, the evidence of previous tears. Your hold remained firm around his middle. You weren’t ready to let go, that much was certain. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m going home,” you whispered, and Jinyoung frowned. When he didn’t verbally reply, you let your focus fall to the arm he had placed around you, encouraging you to stay with him. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the city, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know because you’ve lived here a whole lot longer than me and I—”

“You and I both know that’s not true. You love the city, Y/N,” he cut in, trying to hide the ugly panic swirling in his chest. He didn’t want this to turn into a nightmare. Not when the dream of having you this close had felt so good.

You barked out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. I guess the city doesn’t like me then. I lost my job. You know, the one I was really excited to get a few months ago? I can’t believe that I ever was. And to be fair, I didn’t lose it on my own merit. Rather, I just couldn’t deal with Dean’s constant undermining of me anymore. I went to HR about his misconduct, and guess who the company sided with?”

“They chose him,” he answered darkly, his hand fisting the back of your shirt, so he didn’t fly off and use it elsewhere. Preferably in your ex-colleague’s face.

“Without that job, I can’t afford the city,” you whispered. “I have some savings, but not a lot, and my rent has increased, as has the price of living. So, I rang my Mum earlier and asked if I could move home. Of course, she said yes, she’s my Mum. But I feel like I failed.”

Jinyoung pulled you into him then, your head tucked in against his chest as he cradled you in comfort. He hated the disappointment in your eyes, the way you felt like you had done something wrong. The world was being cruel to one of the few people he knew that was honest, hard-working, and too selfless for their own good. He wanted to scoop you up and protect you forever, but he knew that you were far too stubborn to rely on him for anything more than this hug.

And yet…

“Move in with me,” he announced, and your head shot up from his chest, your eyes round with his statement. He nodded once, determined that he could change this play of fate. That he could keep you here a little longer. He didn’t want you to leave. Not now. Not when he was so close to soaring with the feelings he held within his chest.

But his feelings took a nosedive when you started to laugh.

“Are you serious?!” you chortled, your lips spreading into a smile laced with amusement. “You and me, living together?”

“I can’t see why it’s such a laughable option,” he mumbled, and you grinned before resting your forehead against his chest.

“We’d kill each other. I’m chaotic, whilst you have everything in your house organised and in a set routine.”

“My house has more than one bedroom. You can leave your room as messy as it suits you so long as you leave the door shut.”

“We don’t even like the same foods half the time.”

“So we’ll make compromises and cook for ourselves where necessary.”

You lifted your head but darted your gaze away before he could catch it. “I still can’t live with you.”

“Why not now? I lived in a dorm with six other guys when I was in college. If I can survive that, then—”

“I couldn’t cope seeing you bring home other women,” you said softly, barely louder than a whisper. “Instead of me.”

Had he heard you right? Dazed, Jinyoung thought over the sentence, trying to ensure he hadn’t just conjured the words out of your mouth to please his desire for you.

You took the lapse of focus to your advantage, slipping away from his embrace, the sudden coldness to his body alerting him of you running away. He managed to reach you before you got to the door, his arms now sliding around your waist, tugging you back into him. You stiffened momentarily.

“What are you doing?”

“I need a moment,” he stated gruffly, securing his grip around you. “A really long one.”

“How long is that?” you wondered quietly, the air surrounding you both now charged.

This was the moment he stepped off the edge, praying that you fell with him.

“So long that it lasts forever.”

“Jinyoung—”

“You don’t have to worry about any women coming over. Not when you’re there. Not when I have you.”

He felt your deep inhale and waited for you to release it, to say something. Anything.

“You have me?” you echoed, and Jinyoung buried his face into the side of your neck, pursing his lips into the soft skin just below your ear.

He didn’t answer verbally, allowing his body holding you to voice what it had wanted to for so long. How right you felt in his arms. How eager he had been to go from being a friend of a friend to one of your closest friends. How many nights he had spent in your company like tonight and found it impossible not to touch you, even if he had to tease you to get the chance.

If there was anyone he’d fall for, it was you.

“You have me,” you said once more, without the question in your tone. Turning around, you looked at him, eyes full of wonder. Sparkling with hope and unspoken confessions. “You’ve always had me.”

“I have?” Jinyoung asked, swallowing slowly. “Why plan to leave me then?”

“I didn’t want to believe that I was lucky enough to have you,” you told him, reaching up to cup his jaw in your hand. “It felt too much like a dream.”

“We’re awake right now. There’s no need to dream it when we can have it.”

You couldn’t bite back a snort. Jinyoung groaned loudly when you slapped a hand onto his chest, shaking with laughter. Eventually, you looked up at him. “That was so cheesy.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he lamented, sighing heavily.

“I don’t want to leave you or the city,” you stated once sober from your amusement, the hand still on his chest now scorching through his shirt. “You promise you won’t kick me out until I find a new job, at least?”

“Why am I kicking you out? Did you not connect my words? I always want you in my life, Y/N.”

You beamed at him but then twisted your lips. “I mean, I want that too, but I also know that sometimes I can really grate on your nerves. And your nagging is…”

“Is what?” he ventured when it was clear you weren’t prepared to finish the sentence.

Your lips twitched. “Brutal.”

“You know what’s brutal?” he asked, scooping you up in his arms again, trapping both your hands against his chest. “Having to hear you consider leaving me. You owe me for the heartache I just endured.”

“It’s not like I inflicted it without reason, Park Jinyoung!”

“You owe me,” he insisted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, tapping a finger to his cheek. “Kiss it better.”

“Your heart isn’t up there, you idiot,” you said before ducking your head and placing a kiss over his chest. Jinyoung stilled, his grip on you loosening. He started to fall over the ledge you had sent him off, his heart rate kicking up a notch.

But you didn’t let him fall alone too far, your hands sliding up to cup his face, angling it and pressing your lips to his softly. Before he could respond, you pulled away. “There. Better?”

“Not even close,” he murmured before capturing your mouth in his, deepening the kiss by parting your mouth. You didn’t hesitate to meet his demands, the hunger he felt was pouring out of you too. His hands tangled in your hair, holding you to him, ensuring that you knew how much he wanted you, cherished you before he lifted away to take in steadying breaths.

You were stunned momentarily before you smiled. “I’m really glad I didn’t go and get a back hug from Mark now. I doubt it would have ended like this.”

Jinyoung choked on his own amusement. “For many reasons, I’m glad you didn’t either.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

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trashcankitty12 · 8 months

Text

First off: Sasha, let Cody kill Montague. No one important will miss him.

Besides, you're probably not the first person he's done this shit too. And you wont be the last if someone doesn't put him down. (If not Cody, than let Sonny do it.)

Secondly: go off Maxie!

Maybe its because I'm not someone who has watched GH from the VERY beginning, but Lucy was given what appeared like a good offer. She should have taken it.

Yes that means the ELQ share would be Tracy's, but at least no one would go bankrupt and Maxie wouldn't be in danger of losing everything she worked for.

(Poor James. He just wants to fucking sleep guys.)

Third: go off Brook Lynn!

Maybe this will wake up Tracy and she'll find that money and power isn't everything. That family is truly important. Maybe.

Fourth: gregory... Please tell Chase. Don't let him be the very last to know. Dude is stronger than y'all give him credit for.

Yes he's the personification of a golden retriever, but he's also proven to be great in a crisis, when he's let in on the crisis. Just a thought.

Finally: It's interesting to see one of the "kids/tweens/teens" having a "villain era". (Or a mischief/delinquent era if you prefer since they're young).

That said... Considering its a Cassadine, and Charlotte specifically, are they gonna do a thing like her being a reincarnated Helena or a mini!Helena? (Don't say it can't happen, this show has done plenty of shit before that didn't make complete sense outside of GH land).

And if its not something like... What's Charlotte's motive? She always acts out with a purpose. (The snake in Ava's bag after Ava and Nikolas "stole" her home.)

Does she not like Anna as much as she claims? Is she trying to secretly hook Valentin and Nina back up? Did she read the article on Anna and decide she wasn't good enough for her Papa?

Or is this about trying to make her dad hurry up about a "safe" home? Is it something else? Some unknown disorder?

Also.... Is Charlotte also behind the house fire? Because that seems a bit extreme for her, given her age.

But then they did add in that tarot detail (which always means more in Soap Opera land than it does in the real world) so maybe the spirit of Grandma Helena told her to do it? Or possessed her or something?

I dunno.

What I do know, however, as someone who had a cousin start off with "innocent/kids will be kids" vandalism turn into full-on criminal activity is that Valentin needs to try and nip this in the bud ASAP. Otherwise, Charlotte's gonna find herself in real hot water and there will be very little he can do about it.

#general hospital

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katielovably · 3 months

Text

Note: everyone is mostly speaking Norwegian until it says otherwise... I sometimes forget. this is a continuation of my last fan story of Eddsworld.

For 3 years, Tord "Jr." has been Tord's "son." Even though she hates it, It's not that bad just eh going through childhood again is a pain but being treated somewhat like a king is nice ( and no more worrying about money (Edd would be happy about that) Tord's new wife, Neleta Aasheim is nice and took care of him... even though she's bi and in a "friendship" with a woman soldier named Aashild Henriksen who's also nice to him many because he was a toddler in cute little outfits that "grandma" puts him in.

Tord is more like a big brother than a father figure. At least he supplies Hentai to read the course in Tord's room with the door closed so Grandma doesn't see and takes it away. TJ also watches the news from London along with the babies who became the children when Edd, Matt, and Tom were no longer classified as babies.

Typically, baby/toddler stuff, but Tord felt like he was with them sitting there on the floor in front of the Telly surrounded by toys. Playing with them when they were playing, showing Edd, Matt, and Tom his toys before curling up on the floor and sobbing, missing his friends. Grandma would record the episodes on the VCR for him to watch wherever he wanted... it wasn't the same. He missed them. That was his group. He should be there.

He couldn't watch too many episodes he gets depressed... also, you can only play portend for so long before reality kicks in, and he realized it's just sad what he was doing.

He missed talking with Edd and Matt. Messing/ Fighting with Tom.... petting or playing with Rango. Talking with Odin, who was the closest thing to a little brother. He wished he could have said goodbye. Wished they didn't just abandon him as they did. He thought about that day a lot. He shouldn't have stopped when he said Wait. He should have followed his plan.

TJ was 3. He was watching the telly, the news when a story came on talking about a weird thing happening in London, zombies, and war heroes and stuff.

Wonder what's going on? He said to Tord, who sat on the couch, trying to make sense of the story.

It's hard to tell. But we might go check it out because it's a mess. He said as the toddler tilted his head at the shadowed figure in the background of two soldiers hidden in fog or smoke from the riffles.

I'm curious. He said, making the 5-year-old look back as he was on the phone talking in Norwegian before hanging up.

Guess I'm going. Tord said.

Can I come? TJ said, popping up at his side.

You too... please! TJ begged, which threw off Tord because that was new. He wants to go.

Tord packed for the two of them with the 3-year-old helping by grabbing things they need (trying to sneak some Hentai in, but he would take it for himself replacing it with a children's book)

Carrying TJ, Tord slipped into his car and strapped him into his car seat, driving off with a happy 3-year-old. Tord knew why he was happy. His friends are in London, that's what he connects to London. Tord was going only for work, beside he didn't know where or how to connect them. He's happy. He had never seen TJ so happy. He's usually quiet and calm until you have a baby/toddler screaming to tell you something like, "Put on my show!"

They were close to London, and Tord noticed a car following him. At least he had backup.

Who's behind me? He said on his CB radio.

lieutenant Håvard Sørensen. Figured you should go alone. A gruff Norwegian voice said.

I'm not completely alone. He said.

I saw why you would bring your kid to something like this. The lieutenant said.

Because no one else was home to take care of him. Tord said.

Where's your... you know what, never mind, Corporal. Your family has messed up lieutenant Håvard said.

You have no idea. Tord muttered, slipping the CB on its hook

They hit London shortly after.

Tord living in London since he was in college recognized where the men were fighting the zombies. The man was still there fighting the lieutenant, getting a place for them to stay since Tord was ok and just wanted to talk.

Tord finished off the last of the zombies.

Tord started to call to them in Norwegian but caught himself and switched to English as TJ made his way to the front behind his back, watching out the window.

Eh, who's this guy? One of the men said to the other. Tord realized there were only three of them.

From the shadows came the third, possibly the leader.

This is.... the man noticed Tord's military jackets he had put on before leaving... along with the military vehicle, Tord drove there.

Military. Tord heard him say to the others.

TJ knocked on the window.

Not know. Tord gestured to him, looking back, TJ was glaring at the man.

Just a second. He said and opened the door. TJ got out and went to fight the man but was caught.

HOW DID YOU GET OUT!? TJ snapped.

Uhhhh. Hu? The men said, looking at the others with confusion.

TJ. Shh, let me handle this. Tord whispered to the five-year-old.

This is your fault! The five-year-old snapped getting set back in the car.

Sorry about my son. I wanted to know what's going on or if you need military help. He said as TJ knocked against him.

Not now. He gestured.

The 3-year-old pouted behind the wheel. If he had stopped him... TJ looked at the other two men.

No, we're ok. Thanks. The leader said in Norwegian with a smile before walking away.

Sir? The men said.

we don't need your help. Take your child and leave. The leader said from where he was as more zombies came.

Tord would help, but he has TJ.

TJ move. Tord said.

TJ looked up with a look like that of the first day he ran from the crazy director, regret, hatred, and resentment.

The five-year-old moved to the passenger seat, and they turned around (driving through zombies.

Edd, Tom, Matt! Tord thought instantly and started to drive to the house.

Turn here. TJ said.

Hu. He said

Now before you miss it! TJ said. Tord obeyed and drove.

Stop. TJ said, looking out the window, Tord obeyed.

TJ, what's going on? Tord said as TJ got a torch before turning on the vehicle's location.

TJ, please just... TJ! Tord said as the 3-year-old slipped out.

the lieutenant was right. He muttered.

TJ! He said, getting out with his torch.

He followed the beam of TJ's torch. Tord ran, but the five-year-old would slip away from him every time he would try to catch him.

He was glad that the lieutenant wasn't here to see him struggling to catch a five-year-old. He was a soldier. TJ was a child who spent most of his time in front of the Telly or reading Hentai. How is he so slippery?

Got ya. He said, scooping up the child before looking up at what five-year-old's torche's beam was on. A downed military plane. He walked forward.

What the? They didn't do a report on this? He said.

One news channel did, but it was small, so not many people would have known. TJ said as Tord walked up. Allowing the child to piggyback.

Tord was about to enter but froze seeing the plane number. N0R5K1

Is that my license plate? He said.

You're a soldier, how? TJ said from over his shoulder.

Sometimes, I regret helping you. He said.

Sometimes, I regret stopping when you said Wait. Regret not putting a bullet between your eyes! TJ said.

Rude. Tord said, slipping inside. There was a barrel inside, almost hidden.

It was yellow with a nuclear waste symbol on it.

Hu. He said, trying to read what it contains while TJ did the same, making Tord concerned for his safety before he was placed beside him.

(1 of ????)

#ew tord #ew tom #ew matt #ew edd #eddsworld #edd ew #Eddword fanfic

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goblin-spider · 3 months

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[L⁰g ??????]

-please enter code-

Code: NOAH...|

Welcome back °∆M€₹mer——

⚠️YOU ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING RAPID CELLULAR REGENERATION AND CHANGE PLEASE INSERT CHIP IMMEDIATELY⚠️

[Chip successfully inserted! Welcome back Mer?]

« I've been experiencing the worst throbbing headaches since the event in the cabin and then worse ones since I glitched in Gabe's apartment. I feel fine otherwise, besides losing the majority of my powers. Do I even count as a spidey anymore? Am I really more goblin than anything, even after Bowes 'cure'. I can't shoot webs or stick to walls or even land properly anymore since last night. I feel a little less of a need to hurt people at least. I'm thinking whatever process I was going through has finally finished. My skin may no longer be green but my body feels... Fresher? some how?. Is this how my mother felt? Are these the results of my grandad's serum?. I find myself able to grasp concepts I couldn't before either, like being able to fully picture how things go together and remembering things easier. Other than camping out in Gabe's work room to try and finish the mask I wanted to make him, I've been visiting him while no one's around to protect him from that evil purple AI - no offence norm you're thousands of years more advanced. My problem is with how willy nilly he just harmed a child. None of the androids or AI back home would even dream of doing that, so it scares me. Children are the future. You get rid of them and nothing will regenerate after fall out... As much as I'd love to destroy everything. I know that Lupe's injury is my fault really, though. I just wanted to help my err... friend? Gabe. Sometimes I think about Patrick too and wonder how he's coping with being by himself again. If he wouldn't have said he'd shoot me, I would have gone back already and sorted things out. Instead, I'm here, guarding an unconscious man I can't even spend time with because of this stupid dimensional merge. I really shouldn't be. One thing I know is: I'm not going home. I'm stranded in this new 2099. I Glitched to the point I can't swear like I used to. I swear like them now. I think I need psychological help or something.»

[end log]

#mer osborn #oc post

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troublcmakcrs · 7 months

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▸ @gas-stxtion ⟶ ❛ jack: “Tonight, I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” //for tweek! protect the poor kid from The Horrors ❜

After the first time, it had turned into a habit for Tweek to show up at the gas station late at night when he couldn’t sleep. He found out the same man worked the night shift most of the time, the same one who had helped him through the unfortunate incident that occurred during his first visit, and he came to regard the gas station as a safe-ish place, at least when Jack was working. If, by some odd miracle, there was somebody else working behind the counter, the entire place felt off. Tweek could not shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong with it, and he began to notice strange occurrences.

Once, when approaching the gas station on one of his night walks, he saw what appeared to be a tall figure in a yellow raincoat standing near the dumpster in the back, illumined by the light over the rear door. They stood almost entirely stock-still but swayed a little bit, as if they could feel Tweek looking at them, despite having their back to him, and wanted to assure him that they were real and alive rather than a statue. He did not venture behind the gas station to see who they were and what they were doing because he liked to think that he wasn’t an idiot, but he at least saw them when he was approaching it from the side.

Then, another time, he went into the bathroom and got the distinct impression that he was not alone in there, even though the rest of the stalls were empty. It was freezing in there, and his teeth chattered in his skull, and he did not actually want to take a piss, but he felt about to explode, so he rushed through it and then dashed out of there, refusing to look directly into any of the mirrors in case he caught something behind him. After that, he made sure to always do his business before leaving home because he did not want to take his chances with whatever worse thing might be in the women’s room.

But if Jack was here, it all felt fine, and Tweek sat on a wooden stool, nursing a medium coffee and a pack of gummy bears. He kicked his feet back and forth, thumping his heels against two legs of the stool, one of the fidgets that implied an unusual amount of calmness for him. He was still trembling slightly, which was perhaps why Jack talked him out of a large coffee, but otherwise, he was mostly comfortable and content.

“Okay,” he said, nodding, his expression still troubled by something. Even if he was mostly composed, it was still difficult and rare to drag a smile out of him. “Th-thank you for—hh—letting me stay. I know you’ve got work to do, too.” And babysitting was rarely part of a gas station attendant’s job description.

“You weren’t working the other day when I came,” he noted, looking off toward a display of candy bars—buy one, get one for fifty percent off—“so I left again. I didn’t like the look of the person behind the counter or of the whole rest of the place.” Jack could not work all the time and probably needed days off here and there, but Tweek still disliked being around strangers, especially when there were bad vibes emanating from other parts of the store. He wanted something familiar to latch onto and trust, so he always swung quickly back around when he couldn’t find Jack.

“Jack, can I ask you something?” he said, turning his attention back to the man in question. Then, without waiting for an answer, he pressed on: “Does… do you get… weird… stuff happening here sometimes?” He realized what an idiotic question that was and corrected himself—“I mean, besides all the dead guys in the freezer.” Shit must go down here somewhat regularly if Jack was so blasé about murder and if there were that many corpses of the same guy on the property.

“Like I saw a really—a really weird person standing out back one time, not doing anything, just standing around, but in a freaky way.” Maybe that was mean, and he should not have been assuming the worst about whoever it was, but they were a bit odd in his opinion, and he thought he caught a glance of them again on his way in tonight. Having some reassurance that Jack knew who they were and that they were safe would do Tweek a world of good. Perhaps, then, he could even go out and face the person in the raincoat and make two friends at the gas station, but he would not do it before he was told whether or not it was fine.

“Then, I got a—a weird feeling… the bathroom…” Tweek trailed off and flushed pink, much less confident in his proceedings than he had been. Craig constantly told him how much of his experiences were just in his own head, and now he felt silly. “Like it might… be haunted.” He sipped on his coffee and quickly averted his gaze again. “It was probably nothing, though… S-sometimes, I get—egh—w-worked up for… no reason.”

#ic :: ( tweek )#int :: ( answered )#ver :: main ( tweek )#gas stxtion #//if this was from a meme i sure as hell couldn't find it KFJSKJDF

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earthtooz · 1 year

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hello!! how have u been doing? so i wanted to say something to make ur day better (hopefully <3).

think ab nagi asking u to come over because he noticed that u caught interest in one of his video games and he wanted to teach u how to play and how to master the game :( <3 but mainly bc he has the biggest crush on u (u also have a crush on him but he doesn’t know it yet bc he’s too oblivious)

but anyways once u get there yall play and have fun for some time but suddenly u get a phone call from ur friend and u excuse urself to take the call; u go to the kitchen and start talking to ur friend and everything and then suddenly the topic of your conversion turns to ur massive crush on nagi. so u start saying things like “i like him sm” “he’s so cute when he’s concentrated” or “he’s so JANDJWJD when he’s teaching me how to play” BUT u don’t noticed that he’s been eavesdropping on u long enough to ear ur little confessions (😩)

still not knowing that he overheard ur conversation, u go back like nothing happened and sit beside him. some time passed and it’s time for u to go home, but when u guys reach the door and are ab to say goodbye to each other, nagi pulls u close and kissed u (OSJDJWJDJEJR); not satisfied with the kiss he decided to pull u one more time, but this time u decided to do better and kissed him more feverishly- it just turned into a hot make out session ✨✨✨

he then finally says “i like u, yn… so much” AND WHEN I TELL U THAT U COMBUST RIGHT THERE. u tell him how u feel and now u guys have a date on saturday <33333333

just my nagi brainrot taking over me </3 sorry not sorry (if u can turn this into a fic i’d be forever grateful and love ur works btw! 💌)

-💋 anon (if u don’t have one!!)

hello hello 💋 anon, welcome to my blog !!!! if you wouldn't mind dropping ur preferred prns so i can add them to my list, that'd be great :)

anyways, i love this :((( best thing to wake to ever in the morning, especially since i was so mad at tumblr for all the shit it was putting me through. this brightened my day tho so thank u <3

nagi being a homebody makes imagining homely and domestic scenarios with him SO TASTY. his apartment is relatively clean and well-cared for, he has a minimalist lifestyle (not by choice though, he's just too lazy clean up after it otherwise).

but i think nagi is also someone who values his space and privacy, so when he asks you to come over and play some games with him- HIS NUMBER ONE LEISURE ACTIVITY- it's pretty obvious you mean a lot to him. well, to himself at least. you don't understand the memo just yet, but it's safe to say that nagi is overjoyed to finally have someone use his second player remote.

connecting another controller to the console felt surreal and it made him a little giddy on the inside. he grabbed whatever beanbags he had and placed them in front of his tv, setting up a little, but formidable space for the two of you to game freely.

you show up with his favourite snacks and he's ready to get on one knee and propose (you weren't even married), especially when you bring all of his favourite snacks. there's ramen in there too.

the night goes smoothly, thank goodness his setup is working properly, he doesn't use the tv very often to game but since you were coming over, a phone screen and monitor wouldn't be fitting. the clock eventually hits 12 am and nagi says he needs to take a shower, self-conscious about any stench that might come from him that would drive you away. it doesn't seem like the gaming is going to end any time soon, so you tell him to go and you'll chill for a while.

THEN, your friend shoots a text since you told them that you'd be going to nagi's for a hangout, asking how it was. immediately, you call them and they answer before the first ring and you retreat into his kitchen to discuss.

nagi's shower doesn't take too long, just a scrub down and he's back in action. when he reappears in the living room, you're still in the kitchen, too caught up in your ranting to realise that he can now hear you through the thin walls of his apartment.

you're saying things like 'i like him so much, he's so cute', 'he's so sweet, even when i lose', 'he's so funny that it makes him even more attractive!', and nagi is LOSING HIS SHIT. his heart is racing in his ears and he's cursing himself for it bc all he wants to hear is how you're gushing about him when you don't know he knows. shit, you were going to end him, nagi's sure of it.

when you return to the living room, you're a little surprised to see that your white-haired friend has returned. you immediately panic at the realisation that he could have heard you, but the way he's acting all nonchalant and normal indicates otherwise. okay... maybe you were okay.

the night continues on for another hour or so before you let out your first yawn, signifying that it was probably time for you to leave, despite neither party wanting for that to happen. nagi reluctantly gets up to let you out so you can go home, concerned for your wellbeing since it was so late already. he wants to ask if you could stay the night because he's so selfish but hey, nagi's human, and humans have desires.

but when he opens the door, it feels wrong to just hug you as a farewell, so without thinking, he grabs your face and pulls you in for a searing kiss. it catches you off guard, eyes widening for a moment before realising what was happening and melting into him.

without even seeing what he was doing, nagi slams his door shut and presses you against the wood for some kind of stability. you're not too sure when this evolved into a makeout session, but you hardly have any reason to complain, especially since nagi kisses you like he's been wanting this a long time.

it's between kisses that he murmurs a confession of 'i like you', pressing kisses against the corners of your lip in his delirium, unable to get rid of his need to be as close to you as humanly possible.

safe to say you stay the night, plus, you earned a date for saturday!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ constellation: 💋 anon #earf's favourites (real)#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #< not my idea tho! just tagging this so it can be found again!

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eievuimultimuse · 7 months

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As much as leatherhead knew it’s not exactly smart to go interrupt their brother when he’s deep doing- work. Whatever it is that counts as work, but. They see little choice in the matter. Not with their insides feeling like an all out brawl was going down between the upper and lower intestines, they are never eating bepop’s cooking again,

So, the titular superfly would see a shadowy sillohuette standing in the entrance hallway the only light from a pair of dusty looking night vision goggles. Slouched down more than normal, tail dragged on the floor. “Mate? I threw up.” The voice is mumbled between a barely moving maw. He’s a genius, he’s certainly got to do some genius thing to fix it.

IT WAS TRUE; Superfly did have a habit of getting quite engrossed in whatever technological-related task whenever he was at it, surprisingly capable of tuning out a LOT considering how noisy their home usually was, what with having a total of nine inhabitants. Sure, if a fight broke out or something, it’d snap him right to attention. Otherwise, the only way to get it was to talk to him directly, which…yeah, he didn’t exactly make that an easy task either; he often lacked patience for it and he wasn’t exactly known for being good at hiding this fact. How he saw it, though, it just meant that it’d teach them to save their interruptions for something more urgent.

He’s got his claw braced against the metal, using it to help keep balance as he’s leaned very close to the contraption, carefully trying to screw something in. A table’s been pulled up beside it with the other screws he’ll need, figuring it’s quicker than going back and forth across the room to fetch them. He’s so focused on the task at hand that he doesn’t even register the sound of his sibling shuffling in the hallway to see him. It’s only when he’s finished with the screw he’s dealing with and going to grab another that he notices them. At first, he’s just casually reaching out to get it — then his head snaps in their direction, emitting a buzz that undoubtedly gives away that fact that the green glow startled him. If that didn’t do it, then surely the fact that he bumped into the table that HE put there and knocked some of the screws off would do it.

In the moment between when he did that and when Leatherhead speaks, he shuts his eyes and inhales sharply, brows furrowed. He’s definitely prepared to say something, but they’ve already spoken first, and when they do he promptly releases a sigh — still a little frustrated by what just occurred, but otherwise patient. Okay — getting sick ? That is certainly a valid enough reason for them to come to him. He’ll give them that.

“ That right, “ he mumbles, placing the screwdriver on the table ( he’ll pick up the screws after; it’s more just an inconvenience than anything that he dropped them ). Looking them over, it’s certainly still evident that they’re still not in the greatest shape. At least it saves him from having to ask if they think they’ll throw up again, because it certainly looks as though they could. It doesn’t take long for him to offer a solution; lord knows with the sort of lot he was dealing with, throwing up wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence. “ Lemme see if we still got some Pepto ‘round here somewhere. “ He’s hoping he doesn’t have to make an impromptu run out to fetch some, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had to make such a run.

Before he goes digging for that, though, it’s only natural that he questions, “ The hell’d you even eat, anyway ? Ya’ seemed fine just an hour ago. “

#eyeknowmayhem #SUPERFLY. / IC.#SUPERFLY. / VERSE 002. FLY ON THE WALL.#ASK.#vomit //#emetophobia //#( lord help him his siblings are gonna put him in an early grave. trying to give htis poor guy a heart attack /SILLY /JOKING #htis is so funny like genuinely KJGHFKGJ!!! sibling jumpscare #it rlly IS hard to be a single mom when u have no kids & also are a male teenager /ref )

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yes-i-have-thoughts · 1 year

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Rebel Rebel, What’s Your Gain

CW for not-great parenting, /a2t otherwise in case I missed something

“Adam, you listen to me, or so help me god I’ll send you to your room and Evelin can go right home!”

Adam rolled his eyes in response. Evelin giggled nervously and pulled her hoodie sleeves over her hands to playfully swat at him. Dave shook his head. This “day out” was taking longer than expected.

The original plan was that Dave just dropped Adam off after an after-school thing. Yet Evelin had turned on her charm and sweet-talked him into letting her hang out for a little while, despite the fact that they had other arrangements later. The agreement had been fifteen minutes; which turned into thirty, which turned into an hour. They were going to be late at this point.

Evelin burst out laughing, getting a rare smile from Adam. That alone was enough to convince Dave that rescheduling the next thing for later wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“That boy is going to be the end of me,” Mary fumed, walking over to stand next to Dave. “I swear he never listens. It’s like living with a rebellious 17-year-old. The boy is 13 and he never does a damn thing I tell him to!”

“He can hear you,” Dave whispered to her.

“I don’t care. I’ve just about had it with him, David, I swear.”

The worn-out woman made her way over to the kitchen table and wearily sat down in it, resting her chin in her hand as if she could barely keep her head up. Dave awkwardly stood beside her as she heaved a long-suffering sigh.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “If you’re having so much trouble with him, why don’t you tell the system?”

“What’re they gonna do?” Mary dropped her hand to look up at him. “The boy changed housing every three years for most of his life. The least I can do is keep him until he ages out.”

“But if you drive each other crazy–”

“I don’t drive him crazy. He drives me crazy. I swear he’s trying to send me to an early grave.”

Dave thought back over the times Adam constantly told Evelin about the many times Mary drove him up the wall, but kept quiet. That was likely a conversation meant for the two of them. Adam needed no help speaking for himself.

“Did you know he’s started skipping classes?” Mary spoke again. “He’s started hanging out with teenagers. Teenagers! Who knows what they’ve gotten him involved into. And if I try to get him to talk to me about it, he just tells me to fuck off!”

“Well, do you ask him or force him to talk?��

Mary’s dark look told Dave the answer was the latter. “Don’t get cute with me, Lee. The boy’s got a rebellious streak a mile wide. You don’t ask him, you tell him.”

“Eve tells me what I need to know,” Dave said with an innocent shrug. “And I give her space in return. It works out.”

“I wish I’d had the girl placed with me.” Mary dropped her head onto her now folded arms. “She sounds so much easier to deal with.”

“She’s ‘easier to deal with’ because she has room to place her own boundaries, Mary. What boundaries does Adam have?”

“Go to bed at 9. Supper’s at 6 whether he’s here or not. No games after 8 PM–”

“Those are rules. Not boundaries.”

“Okay.” Mary sat back and crossed her arms, pinning Dave down with her hazel eyes. “What boundaries does Eve have, then?”

Dave sensed he had crossed a line and wanted to drop it. Mary’s expectant look demanded otherwise. “I can’t go into her room without knocking first, um…Her phone is her business, and she has five minutes of leeway regarding being out past curfew.”

“Does she have a lock on her door?”

“We’re saving up for one.”

Mary’s hazel eyes turned tired. “I’m trying,” she whispered. “I’ve done my best with Adam. I’m sorry it’s not enough for you.”

“I didn’t say–”

“You don’t have to.” She dropped her head again. “Your tone of voice says it all.”

Dave figured the conversation was over with that. After mulling over an apology, he gave up and walked out of the kitchen.

The two pre-teens weren’t in the living room anymore. A door slamming upstairs told him where at least one of them was. Evelin knew she wasn’t allowed into Adam’s room–one of Mary’s house rules–so either they got into a fight and Adam kicked her out or Adam bailed and she was somewhere else.

Dave made his way up the carpet-covered stairs. None of the doors were clearly marked as to whose room was who’s, though music loudly blaring from the room farthest from the stairs gave away which one was Adam’s.

The music was paused when Dave knocked on the door. When nothing else happened, he took it as an invitation to come in and opened it.

Adam’s room was, as assumed, a mess. A (thankfully empty) hamper was tipped over, books and CD cases were piled on top of almost everything and a black desk had been haphazardly cleared away to rest a fairly new laptop. A black dog plush poked its head out from a half-open closet and a dresser drawer was left open due to being overstuffed with a variety of shirts. Sitting on the other side of the bed with his back to him was Adam.

Dave stepped over a black school bag and tried not to think too hard about the amount of socks sitting in the corner. Adam didn’t respond to his whispered “hey”, so he leaned against the bed; careful not to intrude on his space too much. “We’re–”

“Heading home,” Adam cut him off. “I figured. Eve’s already in the car.”

Dave nodded slightly. “You heard all that, hm.”

“Of course I did. I can hear everything in this fuckin’ house.”

The hard edge to his voice backed up the claim that he’d been listening since the beginning. Dave winced.

“Do you…Want to get out? Even just for a night? I’m okay with you sleeping over. It’s a school night, yes, but you and Evelin go to the same school anyway.”

Adam didn’t respond. Dave sat on the bed and looked around. After about a minute, Adam made his way over to sit next to him.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Dave waiting until he was comfortable and clawing for a way to break the ice. He gestured at one of the horror movie posters. “Mary let you see Rocky Horror?”

“God no.” Adam’s laugh was weak. “She’d throw a fit if she knew I had seen it. She thinks I’m not old enough.”

13 was a little young to be seeing a play like that in Dave’s opinion, but now wasn’t the time to be a parent. “Who’d you see it with?”

“Pirated a movie copy.” Adam stretched casually, though his usual spunky pride was starting to show through again. “The last house I was placed in, the dad really loved the movie and promised that we’d watch it one day, when I was old enough. Obviously since I’m here now, that won’t happen. So I just pirated it instead. 13’s old enough to watch it, right?”

Dave shrugged idly. “I dunno. I’d say it’s a little young, but then again I saw it when it came out and I don’t think I was much older than you.”

“Hell yeah.”

Dave ruffled Adam’s hair. The blond leaned away from him, but his little smile gave away his real feeling about it.

“C’mon.” Dave stood up off the bed and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Get your stuff together. I’ll tell Mary you’re sleeping over tonight.”

“Can I sleep over two nights?”

“I’d love to say yes, bud.” Dave shook his head. “But that’s not up to me.”

#FAITH AU #Dave Lee #Adam Murray #Evelin Miller #TMC #the mandela catalogue #El writes

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beastofwant · 1 year

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So Savannah Smiles were, according to the only source I could find because it was redacted on the official Girl Scouts website, released in 2011 and discontinued in 2019. I liked them because they tasted like Lemon Coolers, which are the best damn cookies in the world and if I can’t find a box somewhere I’ll make them myself. As a treat.

In less fun news,

It has come to my realization that the entirety of my Girl Scout Career is a gaping black hole with only Facts About The Situation floating ambiently around the void.

I started very young and was very passionate about it.

My troop’s leader was an abusive monster.

My mother did not pull me out despite the above.

Eventually, it got so bad the troop ended up literally having a schism, and I was able to join the different troop led by a friend’s mom instead.

My memory picks up a little after that last event. We’d meet at the community center really close to where I lived, but we didn’t end up doing much of anything aside from coloring pages. All of the adventures were had with the Monster.

I don’t even remember her name or what she looked like, other than dark hair and Loud. I don’t know if she actually resembled my mother in body type or if that’s just something I’m projecting onto her because of how my mother would eventually become? last name [redacted], which I only remember because I can remember her kid’s first and last name because she joined another kid who severely bullied me, there was a whole group and it was definitely because I was weird and either autistic or already traumatized, and I was asked to list... everyone. who was doing anything to me. First and last name.

-I’m beginning to think I didn’t have a very fun childhood.-

but I think that was where my trauma symptoms really started to begin. And my mother was around for almost all of it, especially when I was really little. Why didn’t she do anything? I didn’t have to go to Girl Scouts on top of dance practice at church and ballet and tap and, of course, school and homework. And trying to fit my own hobbies in there, too...

Oh my god I was such a busy child? and I’d have to go to a lot of doctor’s and dentist’s appointments because I may be cute but I did not win the genetic lottery otherwise. and because my mother was chronically ill & disabled, and didn’t want to leave me home alone until I was a teenager so I’d have to come with her... and there’s lots of trauma there too that I’m not touching right now because I don’t need to unpack it all right now lol

She knew about the Monster troop leader and the full extent of her wrath and she knew about the severe bullying I underwent- we literally almost had to file a fucking restraining order against this kid- and she saw how sullen I became when my grandma (her mother!) died. Why didn’t she fucking take me to therapy? My father at least had the excuse of working all night, he was a truck driver and supported us both so he wasn’t around most of the time.

I’m going to dig her up so I can fucking kill her myself or something. Fuck. I hate that I have to see her grave beside my Papa’s and Grandma’s if I ever go back there. Every time I think I might be able to, on some level, forgive her or remember her in fondness, I Remember something new. And then I also remember why I laughed when I heard she died. When I was crying at the funeral I wasn’t mourning her because I had done that when I was around 13 and realized I was being abused and that it was not okay. I was mourning myself; The child she had killed.

But nobody there except someone I’ll rightfully never speak to again knew that, and so everyone just said that we were so close. I hated her. I prayed for her death because I knew it was either her or me. I wouldn’t have survived.

#diary

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 2 years

Text

Day 10: Channel

Modern AU. Estinien is begging his wife to change the channel. Kinda NSFW.

“Agi for fuck’s sake, change the channel.” Estinien groaned as he sat next to his wife on the couch.

“What? Why?” Agnes asked, sipping her tea. One of Estinien’s long muscular arms wrapped around her broad shoulders. “There’s new episodes of Hunting for Houses and Reno or Sell-O!”

Put a bullet in my head. Please. Just...please. I love my wife. I love her more than anything on this star. I want to have a ton of babies with her. She’s the sweetest, kindest, sexiest woman in the history of mankind. BUT HER TASTE IN TELLY IS SO SHIT! “Sweetheart, those shows rot your brain I’m sure of it. Not that I’m saying your brain is being rotted right now!” He added quickly upon seeing her “I’m getting annoyed with you” face. “I just don’t understand why you like this stuff.”

Agnes shrugged and put her mug down on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I just do. I like judging the houses and…the people. It’s just funny to me.” She patted his thigh and then reached for the remote. “But we can put on something else, love.”

Fuck, now she sounds sad. She deals with high-energy children all day and simply wants to shut her brain off in the evenings. Plus…you cannot deny…that you…fuck, love to be a gossipy twat about these shows too. Fuck. “No, no. If it makes you happy, then so am I. Besides,” he pressed a kiss to her head. “this’ll give us good practice for when we go house hunting.”

The squeal of delight his wife let out was both ear-splitting and heartwarming. To see her happy is the greatest thing in the world…next to sex with her. That cannot be topped. Except me! She can top me any time she likes! “Oh good! A new episode is starting right now!”

Oh goody.

“I’m Adela.” A blond Midlander on the screen said. “And this is my fiancée Bataar. We met at university when I participated in a cultural exchange with Steppe University.”

Agnes snorted. “Big guy. Tiny girl. Seen it a million times.”

“I mean, I’m a big guy, and you’re shorter than me.” Am I not getting something?

“Oh love,” she patted his thigh again. Oh gods, she needs to stop doing that. I’m getting way too turned on. “She’s little and cute. Thin and pretty. And he’s HUGE. He’s got to be near seven fulms tall, no? She seems barely five fulms. There’s a big difference.”

I still don’t get it but okay.

“What I love most about Adela? She’s got a kind heart like the Dusk Mother.”

“I don’t go comparing my lovely wife to Halone, mate, but you do you.” Estinien muttered.

Agnes giggled, grabbing her mug. “No, you say I’m Menphina come to life. Especially when we’re fucking, love.”

That’s because it’s true!

“I’m from Gridania—”

“Of course you are.” Agnes snorted. “I swear people from Gridania are so fucking weird. Weird about the woods. Weird about outsiders. Just…weird.”

“And we want to stay in Gridania near my family and job.”

Seems reasonable enough…

“I’m a jewelry shop assistant, and Bataar is a carpenter. Our budget is four hundred thousand gil for an at least four-bedroom single family home with at least two full bathrooms.”

“WHAT?!” Agnes and Estinien shrieked at the same time.

“There’s no fucking way they can afford and get all that in Gridania.” Agnes stared at the television. “Not with those jobs! Unless their families are helping?”

“Have to be…otherwise, they’re in for a rude awakening.” Estinien squeezed her shoulder. “That’s completely unrealistic.”

“Our realtor is Adela’s aunt Bertha—”

Estinien grunted and pointed his beer at the screen. “There ya go. That’s it. Family realtor.”

“I may have to give Adela and Bataar, specifically Adela, some hits with the reality stick. I don’t think she understands how the market in Gridania works.”

Agnes laughed so hard tea almost came out of her nose.

“This cannot be the house? It can’t be, right? Bataar?” Adela yelled as they approached a dilapidated cottage in Old Gridania. Bataar tried unsuccessfully to calm her as her aunt opened the door.

“Now, it needs some love—”

“We are not getting a fixer.” Estinien said, eyes narrowing. “I want everything ready to go.”

“Oh love, but those are cheaper, AND we can make it our own!” Oh shit, she’s got a dreamy look in her eyes. Oh shit. Oh fuck. “Just imagine the possibilities!” The only possibilities I’m imagining are you and I in our tastefully decorated home and fucking in every room. NOT A BLOODY RENO!

“Sweetest,” Bataar pleaded with Adela. “I can do some very fine work here…”

“AUNTIE, WHY DID YOU SHOW US THIS?!?!”

“Because your budget is shit, sweetie.” Agnes snarked, taking a brownie. “It’s especially shit in Gridania itself. Try the South Shroud with the swamps, and maybe you’ll get your money’s worth there.” My wife is so sexy when she’s being sassy. I fucking love it.

As the episode continued, Adela threw tantrums at the other properties (a small cottage that’s move-in ready and another fixer in the North Shroud). Estinien guessed correctly that they would choose the small cottage.

“Wow love, how did you guess?”

Estinien shrugged. “No fuss with that cottage. So what it’s not as large as she wants…at least it’s all ready.”

Agnes kissed his cheek and reached for the remote, changing the channel to All About Food. “You’ve suffered enough, my grumpy man. I think your favorite is going to be on…the one about chefs being forced to cook through challenges?”

I love my wife.

Even though she watches garbage.

#agnes currai #modern au #agnes varlineau #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #wolstinien #estinien x wol #ffxiv write #ffxiv write 2022 #agi watches HGTV nonstop #estinien's more a food network dude

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